Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1) (29 page)

“So, I was thinkin’,” Beau said after a while, “maybe we could keep this thang goin’ just a little longer.”

I hummed in question.

“Well, I thought maybe I could drive ya up to New York.”

I twisted around to look at him. The lyrics he’d sung around the bonfire were at the front of my mind. God, how was I going to say goodbye if he took me right to the airport? We couldn’t even leave to go to a bonfire without pawing each other first. “Oh, no, Beau, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Ya didn’t ask. I offered.”

Spinning fully so that I was facing him, I grabbed his hands. “You can’t; it’s too far.”

Dragging his hands from mine, he cupped my face in his palms. “I want to, darlin’. You’ve taken hold of every part of me and I’ve given it willingly. Give me this little bit back, please? Let me stay with ya, as long as possible. I ain’t ready to say goodbye.”

Despite wanting to spend every second I could with him, saying goodbye at the airport was too serious. A relationship-level step I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Plus, it meant dragging him away from Abby sooner than he had to leave. “I don’t—”

Beau silenced me with a look. “At least
think
about it before ya say no. Please?”

“I guess I can give you that much,” I said, leaning into his palm.

I relaxed back against him, but the calm didn’t last for long. His request to drive me to New York played in my mind. The day had been far too heavy already.

Abby. The lake. The realisation that I’d found someone who understood exactly what I’d been searching for since leaving home. The emotion he’d shown when he was singing about wanting me to stay. Everything had been perfect.

At least on the surface.

Underneath the veneer was a time bomb ticking away and getting ready to blow up in both our faces.

Maybe I needed to do a little controlled detonation to avoid outright disaster.

It would be like backing off and letting an aggressive driver have the corner. Giving them the place, but keeping the car intact. The safer bet. It would help us both to avoid a collision with a cement wall.

“It’s getting a little chilly, I think I need to go inside,” I said, tugging away from his hold.

His brow dipped for a moment, and it looked like he was going to say something more, but he stopped himself. I gave him a watery smile and pulled open the door.

“Phoebe,” Beau called out before I could move inside.

God, why did it sound so damn nice when he said my name in that southern drawl? “Yeah?”

“Will ya tell me why you don’t want me to take ya?”

I sighed. “I do want you to take me.” I wanted it far more than I really should, and that was exactly the reason I didn’t want him to. “I just think it might be better if we keep what we had here. Private.”

“So it’s the paps that worry ya?”

“Huh?”

“Are they the reason ya don’t want me to take ya to the airport? ’Cause if it’ll make ya more comfortable, I can just drop ya off and go.”

“It’s not that. I mean, sure I don’t want you to face a scandal when I’m gone, but it’s not that.”

“If it’s ’bout what I said yesterday when ya told me how old ya are, forget it. I shouldn’t have said it. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Besides, my rep’s so squeaky clean, I’m prob’ly due for a scandal or two.”

“Really, it’s not that.”

“Somethin’s buggin’ ya.”

How could he read me so damned well? Better than my own parents. Possibly better even than Angel. “No, I’m just thinking about it. Like I said I would.”

“Was it the songs?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “No. Really. It’s nothing. I just need to relax for a bit. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

“It’d be an easier one if ya had someone to share it with.”

I leaned against the door and assessed him, unable to stop my lips from twisting upward at his words—and his persistence.

“I do love that smile. It ain’t quite as wide as I like it, but it’ll do for now.”

My stomach clenched at the
L
word.

It was undeniably true.

And mutual.

And still doomed from the beginning.

My lips fell back out of their smile.

As soon as they did, Beau was in front of me, wrapping his arms around my neck. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. I won’t let anythin’ hurt ya.”

Clinging to his shoulders, I didn’t tell him the one thing I knew to be true. He may not let anything hurt me, but because of him, my heart would be shattered and raw by the time I had to go home. Every second I spent at his side, I fell deeper in love with him. Further into the rabbit hole that was impossible to escape from.

I needed to put a stop to it before it could hurt either of us more.

There was no way I could let him take me to New York, and there was only one way I knew of to stop him.

GIVING UP ALL thoughts of sleep, I climbed from the bed and moved to stand beside the window. The sun, just cresting the horizon, filled the room with pinks and purples, throwing a romantic light over the space that was fucking unfair given what was going to happen soon.

Leaning my shoulder against the windowpane, I tried to find what comfort I could from the rising sun, but it only brought the pain of knowing what I had to do. I twisted back around to look at my own personal sun, the man who’d brought warmth and life into the last few days of my trip. Who’d introduced me to his sister, despite the obvious emotional toll it had taken on him to share that part of himself. Who’d brought me to a place that was heaven on earth and let me experience true freedom.

“Oh, Beau,” I murmured, needing to fill the silence in the room. “Why did you have to be so perfect?”

Tears pricked my eyes. They’d been a near-constant threat for the better part of the night. Even through my tears, I smiled as I watched him sleep.

My eyes trailed his face, drinking in all the features and locking them away in my memory. His sandy hair was messy from falling into bed while it was still wet. The stubble on his chin was steadily progressing toward the beginnings of a beard after our three days together. A small, dreamy smile played on his lips, making me wonder what his dreams might contain.

“Why did the last few days have to be so wonderful?” I whispered.

My lip quivered as the pressure of what came next built in my chest. My gaze sank lower, over his broad shoulders and sculpted chest, down over the smattering of dark blond hair on his pecs and stomach, leading to a happy trail that headed under the white sheet tangled around his waist.

Beneath that, the bedding wrapped through his legs in a pattern indicating he’d been tossing and turning for most of the night. I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t slept much myself. In just a few minutes, the curtain would fall on everything we’d shared. He didn’t know that yet but had definitely sensed me pulling away ever since his offer to drive me all the way to New York. Maybe he understood what I’d started planning before we’d even reached his bedroom the night before. There was no way I could stay. It wasn’t fair to him, nor was it fair to me.

Even when we’d made love, for what would be the last time, I’d been building the walls around my heart that would allow me to leave him. With his sweet talk and gentle touches, Beau had made them almost impossible to construct.

The truth was, I might have decided to leave him sooner rather than later, but that didn’t make it any easier. How was I supposed to walk away from the one thing that had made my entire trip worth taking?

But with everything that came next, how could I not? What could we do? He had a life in the States, and I had one in Australia. As much as I’d loved my time with him, as much as I would have loved to stay, there was a longing in my chest I couldn’t ignore. A need to be home, to see my family. To hold my baby sister in my arms again. To listen to Brock and Beth bicker like they always did. To help Parker with a damned computer game. To hold tight to Mum and let her make the pain better like she always could. She’d have quite the job of that when I saw her again because I’d never before felt an agony so keen.

My vision hazed over as my eyes flooded with tears. I’d gone overseas in search of who I really was, and I’d found her in Beau’s arms. Despite that, I was still the girl with the expectations and responsibilities. I’d been away for long enough that I’d actually started to miss her.

Beau moaned and thrust his hips as he slept before turning again. A reminder of everything he’d given to me. Nothing more than I’d given in return, and yet somehow so much more because I’d never had the specific notion of saving myself for marriage. All I’d wanted was for it to be something special with someone I loved, and that’s what I had.

Beau had lived by the ideal of waiting for marriage, and yet I’d taken everything he’d offered knowing that not only were we only a temporary thing but that he didn’t even know me. Sure he had my name, and knew what I did for a living, and had his list of observations, but he didn’t know
me
.

Not really.

Not the me who was up at four in the morning to hit the treadmill or elliptical trainer to keep up my cardio strength. The me who was at the track an hour earlier than needed so I could help the mechanics do the final safety checks on the car. The me who had dressed up in fancy outfits and race suits for promotional calendars so often that being in front of the camera didn’t faze me anymore. It was all just modelling work to build my portfolio and consumer appeal.

Those were all things that made up my real life. What I would be walking back into when I returned home. It was what I’d been running from, but I was ready to walk back into it all. I was just selfish and wanted Beau too. But not if all I could have was screen time and phone calls.

Trying to turn my mind away from the impossible, I started to run scenarios through my head of what might happen next, like I would if I was on the track.

Sometime soon, he’d stir and beckon me to him. I’d go willingly because I was incapable of refusing anything he asked of me. He’d wrap me in his arms and whisper his perfect words to me, and offer to take me to his house again. It would end in another long road trip with him where I’d tear deeper into my heart and let him burrow in.

After that, I’d have to look in his eyes and remind him we were out of time. That I had to race up to New York to catch my flight. He’d ask me to stay again. Beg me for my contact information again. I’d relent and then I’d face the torture of being in contact with him knowing that we could never be together with our lives as full as they were with our careers and families.

He stirred. “Dawson.”

The name slipped from him as if it was only natural, but just like every other time he’d issued it over the weekend, it was like a punch to the gut. He’d only just learned the name Phoebe Reede. He only really knew Dawson.

And Dawson had to disappear at the end of the trip.

Knowing I didn’t have the strength to face him, to break his heart while I looked in his eyes, I gathered my things as quietly as I could. It was the coward’s way, but the only way I’d be able to leave without tearing us both apart when we said goodbye. I carried my bag out to my bike and strapped it down.

When I came back into the bedroom, Beau’s mouth had turned down into a frown, and his brow dipped and furrowed as he dreamed.

I found a piece of paper and wrote him a note.

Beau,

I love you. Those words seem ridiculous given the time we’ve known each other, but they’re true.

As much as there’s a part of me that wants to stay, I can’t be happy here. I can’t be whole. I’m sorry I left this way, but I have to, or I don’t think I’ll be able to leave at all. Every minute I spend with you, I fall further under your spell, and I’m not strong enough to walk away from you while you’re awake. I can’t have you take me to New York or I might never get on that plane. And it would seem like the best thing, but in the end, it would destroy everything you love about me.

Know that I will always hold the memory of you and our time together close to my heart. You shone a light on the best parts of me, and now it’s up to me to keep them bright on my own.

I ask that if you love me, even a little, you’ll let me go. It will hurt far too much to talk to you again. Keep these days as a memory of a perfect love, one that time and distance can’t tarnish.

Love always,

Dawson.

I WAS tempted to sign the note with my real name, but I couldn’t. It would be my permission for him to contact me. He needed to remember her, Dawson, the girl he knew first. It was better for us both to end it before it got worse. To cling to our shared experience and leave as unscathed as we could with only our memories remaining.

After folding the note in half, I crossed the room and placed it on his bedside table together with the phone he’d given me.

With that task done, I caressed his cheek. He smiled as he leaned against my hand. My stomach clenched tighter than a fist as I leaned forward to press my lips against his one last time. The gentle scrape of his stubble against my cheek was almost enough to make me want to give up my plan and tumble back into bed with him.

A sleepy moan issued from his throat as he kissed me back, and for a moment, I thought I might have taken it too far and woken him. When I pulled away though, he was still asleep, and his smile was firmly set.

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I pushed myself up from the bed and turned away from him. My eyes stung and my lungs burned from the pressure of keeping my sobs contained deep inside my chest. Without letting myself doubt my course, I raced to my bike and started it. The instant the engine kicked into life, I throttled it and took off up his drive.

Using one hand to steady myself, I lifted my visor on my helmet and wiped one hand over my eyes to clear away the tears.

I risked one last glance back at the house, which would be printed forever in my memory, and gasped when I saw Beau standing out front, one hand clutching the sheet he’d dragged outside with him, no doubt at the sound of my bike’s engine kicking over.

At the sight of the utter devastation on his face, my tears started anew and an uncontrollable sob left me. As much as I wanted my memories to be of all the happy times, I knew deep down that every time I thought of him, it would be that look—one of horror and betrayal—that I would see.

It was only when I turned from his driveway onto the road that I understood something with perfect clarity. It was something that had only been a fear for me until then. I was exactly who I’d always worried I would be. I was just like my daddy. Just like my grandfather.

I was poison, and I hurt those who fell in love with me.

Despite needing to stop to give myself a chance to cry out the knots in my chest, I gunned it and retraced the route we’d taken to the highway. Eventually, I’d have to stop for directions, but for the moment, I figured if I headed north and east, I’d eventually get somewhere close to where I needed to be. It was at least half a day direct to New York, maybe more if I fucked around not knowing where to go, so I had a tough choice. Either hit it straight and end up in town far too early or try to find somewhere to hole up for the night. Both options had their drawbacks, but knowing Beau and his damned tenacity, he was probably already in his truck trying to cover the distance between us.

If I arrived at the airport too early, he’d likely try to find me there.

The thought made me hunker down on the bike and go as fast as I dared.

For hours, I rode hard and fast—taking my emotions out on the bike. It was reckless and stupid, but fuck I needed it. After a while, I couldn’t take the crushing agony that stole my breath away. I hit tipping point when I saw a sign for a fucking pair of cowboy boots, of all things. The tears I’d held at bay until then burned my eyes, and I had no choice but to find somewhere to rest. Too much grief and too little sleep were acting together to make me more erratic than a drunk.

I found a motel off the highway with off-street parking. The clerk gave me an odd look as I checked in, but I didn’t give a shit what he thought. As soon as I was in the room, I shoved my earbuds in and cranked up my emo playlist to drown out my own thoughts.

Only, it didn’t work.

For the first time ever, my infallible list of “cry it out” songs just irritated me. I yanked at the cord to the earbuds before tossing the phone onto my bed. Needing something to distract me from my thoughts, I picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. I channel-surfed for a while until I hit a music video for a country song. The guy in the clip looked nothing like Beau, and yet he reminded me of him.

The flannel shirt. The faded, dusty jeans. The buckle and boots. Everything.

My tears flowed in earnest, and I hugged the pillow and tormented myself with the twanging accent of the country singer. It reminded me of Beau’s campfire performance.

As the songs faded into one another, the tossing and turning from the night before finally caught up with me and my eyes drifted closed.

THE DOOR to the motel room swung open. A stream of sunlight burst through the space, silhouetting the man who’d barged into the room uninvited. Without a word, he stepped in and slammed the door shut behind him.