Page 28 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
He noticed the pained expression on my face and stepped closer, moving right into my space and stroking down the sides of my arms. “You’ve got grit. I’ve seen it. I’m not making light of what you’ve got going on. You’ve had a difficult month and I understand that. But sometimes even the toughest people need a kick in the ass to snap themselves into a better place.”
I searched his eyes for any hint of exaggeration but they were pure and honest. His faith in me was humbling. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough.”
“Okay. I’m done pouting now,” I whispered.
He chuckled and moved his hands to my face, leaning in to brush his soft, full, pink lips against my forehead.
Oh, boy. I was so smitten with this man.
“How long do you get to stay?” I hoped the change of topic would help me resist the urge to lean into Beau’s space and test those lips against my own.
“Just until tomorrow. Things are a wreck at work so I need to get back but I didn’t want you to wait a whole week for supplies.”
“I’m glad to have you back. I’ll help you unload the truck.”
He stared at me for a long moment, still sharing my space. “We’re good?”
I nodded. “We’re good.”
He squeezed my arms one last time before turning to leave. He’d been back for no more than an hour and I felt like a new woman. He had done the right thing, giving me that figurative kick in the ass. No one had ever done that for me before.
My parents would cater to my bad moods, fussing and fawning over me until I snapped myself out of the funk. Even Felicity had tended to indulge my sad days when we’d been roommates. She’d bring me chocolate and paint my nails until I was ready to get out of bed and go to class or work.
Beau did have a good read on me. Maybe better than I had on myself.
“Beau?” I called from the counter before he could step outside. “Thanks. Most people tend to avoid me when I get blue.”
“You’re welcome. Does it happen a lot?”
“Not so much anymore.” I took a deep breath, summoning the strength to tell him something that I had only confessed to a few people. “I went through a tough time after Janessa committed suicide. She was my best friend in high school.”
That got his attention. “What?”
“She died when we were sixteen.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He came back inside and stood beside me, his hip brushing my knee.
“Me too.” I gave him a sad smile. “My parents and brothers didn’t really know how to deal with me back then. I was sad and angry most of the time, lashing out at them and my teachers when I wasn’t curled up in bed crying. They finally took me to a therapist so I had someone impartial to talk to.”
My therapist had helped me through the darkest time in my young life. She’d given me permission to grieve and feel sad, but she’d also taught me that life goes on and I had to put a time limit on wallowing.
“It wasn’t until after college that I realized there wasn’t anything I could have done for Janessa. But the sad times, they still happen. When they do, I revert back to some of those old habits. I let the sad run its course, then put it in the past.”
“Fuck me.” He rubbed a hand over his beard. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, trust me. You did the right thing.”
“Really? Then why do I feel like such a prick right now?”
I smiled. “Don’t feel bad. Wallowing wasn’t helping me. I’ve been using a coping mechanism that was appropriate for a sixteen-year-old girl, not a thirty-four-year-old woman. You were right. I was moping around and feeling sorry for myself. It was time to get up. Please don’t feel bad. I’m just telling you all this because . . . well, I felt safe telling you.”
He threw an arm around my shoulders. “You can tell me anything.”
Of that, I had no doubt.
“You brought me a TV too?” I screamed in delight when I saw the small box in the back seat of Beau’s truck.
