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“How did?—”
“I was unpacking the last of your stuff. I went to put some things in the drawer and saw this.” She placed her fingertips flat on the image in front of her. “Beau, what is this?”
I swallowed thickly, trying to force down the knot that had formed in my throat. “That—it’s, um, my sketchbook.”
Her eyes rounded. “You drew these?” All I could do was nod. “Beau, these are... they’re beautiful.”
It took a moment for my brain to comprehend what she’d said, but as soon as it did, my shoulders sagged with relief. She wasn’t disgusted or weirded out. She looked at those sketches and saw what I saw: raw, unfiltered beauty.
“How long—” She let the sentence hang, waiting for me to answer.
“It started freshman year of high school. I took an art class for an easy credit and figured out I was pretty good at it.”
“God,” she breathed, awe in her voice as she flipped through the pages. “This is so much more than just beinggood at it. But... these are all me.” Her curious gaze returned to me. “Why me, Beau?”
My head tilted to the side in disbelief that she hadn’t figured it out by now. “You really don’t know?” She shook her head. “They’re all you because I’ve been in love with you since I was a kid, baby.”
She sucked in a sharp gasp, her lips parting, eyes widening. “You—you love me?”
“Of course I do.” I moved closer to the bed, coming to a stop at the foot. I stared down, hoping every ounce of what I felt for her came through in my gaze. “You’re it for me, Presley. I’ve known that since we were kids.” I pointed down at the notebook on the bed. “That sketchpad is full of four years’ worth of it.”
She shook her head, her brows pulling together as sadness darkened her amber eyes. “I don’t understand. If that was the case, if you really had feelings for me...” She stopped and shook her head like she couldn’t get the words out. But I knew what she was asking. If I loved her, even back then, why did I ruin us?
It was a conversation I hadn’t been looking forward to, and one I’d hoped to avoid for longer, but it appeared my time hadrun out. On a heavy sigh, I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing anxiously at the back of my neck.
“It started because I was the only one you gave attitude to, and in my own twisted way, that made me feel special. I could push your buttons and set you off in a way no one else could. You were always so sweet?—”
“Sobubbly?” she tacked on, lifting a brow in a sarcastic way that made me smile.
“Exactly. You were like that with everyone but me. I got the fire you had down deep. You didn’t care that I was popular or my family had money. You didn’t kiss my ass like all the other kids in school did. When I pushed, you pushed back, and it didn’t take me long to discover that I loved fighting with you more than I loved getting along with anyone else. You made me feel alive, and I didn’t have much in my life back then that could make me feel that way.”
Concern laced through her features as she asked, “What do you mean?”
“Things at home weren’t exactly... cheerful. My dad was a miserable bastard. He’d dreamed of being a bigshot football player, but he didn’t have the skill to go pro. When his dreams didn’t pan out, he decided to make them my dreams. From as far back as I can remember, he rode my ass to be the perfect football player, only problem was, when he realized I was better than him, that I actually had a shot athisdream, he resented me for it.”
I shook my head, the laugh that rasped up my throat didn’t hold an ounce of humor. “You know, I’ve tried remembering if there was ever a time when I thought he actually cared about me, and I can’t come up with a single instance where he actually behaved like a father. How fucking sad is that?”
“Beau,” she whispered, sadness laced heavily through that one word.
“I love my mom, and I’m as close to her as I can be, but it’s hard, because no matter what I said, or what he did, she always chose him over me. To this day, she’s still trying to guilt me into having a relationship with the man who went out of his way to destroy my life.”
I looked over at her, my light through the darkest storms. “I know I was a shit when we were kids, and it’s not an excuse. I didn’t know what the fuck to do with how I felt about you. Then our senior year rolled around and I finally got up the nerve to act on it.”
Her brow furrowed, but only for a second before understanding dawned across her face. “The project in Ms. Garza’s Spanish class.”
A smile tugged at my lips as I nodded. “That was the first time I saw what it would be like to have you, and I knew I had to make my move.”
She reared back, sucking in a large gasp. “I knew it! I knew you were going to kiss me. Wait. You were going to kiss me, right?”
“I was,” I admitted, my face falling into a frown. “Then my father came home.” Christ, this was going to be the hardest part, but I had to get it out there. “He told me that whatever was happening between us, it had to end.”
“Is that why you acted the way you did the next day? Why you and Larissa...” I saw the pain in her eyes before she tucked it away, and it was like a knife to the gut.
“I’m so goddamn sorry,” I rasped. “I didn’t know what to do. He said if I didn’t cut you off, he’d start spreading rumors about your dad, cause him to lose business. I didn’t want to be the reason your family suffered. I was young and dumb, and I did the only thing I could think of to push you away.”
She shook her head like she was trying to clear it, and I could see those wheels turning as she tried to make sense of it all. “But why? I don’t understand.”
She didn’t understand because she was a good person, and it was hard for good people to wrap their minds around the actions of the assholes of the world. “Because he’s a bastard?” I speculated, lifting my shoulder in a shrug. “Because he saw that I cared for you and wanted to take that away? Saw that you made me happy and wanted to ruin it? I stopped trying to understand his reasoning a long time ago.”
