Page 47 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
“No pictures?” he asked, making me laugh. “Come on.” He nudged my shoulder. “Tell me what’s it about.”
“Me,” I answered honestly. “It’s a lot about me and this experience.”
“An autobiography?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fiction but I based the main character’s struggles on mine. She gets thrown into an unknown environment, she’s cut off from the people she loves, and she’s trying to work through some of the bad decisions she’s made.”
“What kind of bad decisions?”
I took a deep breath before explaining. To divulge my main character’s shame was to share my own, and I was dreading the inevitable disgust on his face and disappointment in his eyes.
“My character is a famous actress. She earned her fame by using others as she climbed. Then she took a proposition to sleep with a director for an Oscar-winning role. In the book, she’s trying to come to terms with those bad decisions and wondering if her career was worth feeling like a whore.”
Beau didn’t say anything and I kept my eyes glued to the path as we walked. The farther we went, the more I regretted telling him about my book. Waves of anger and disappointment rolled off his bare shoulders.
Had I made the wrong assumption? Hadn’t he realized I’d slept with Anton? Beau was smart, so surely he’d read between the lines when I’d told him that I’d been faking a relationship, right?
When he stopped walking, I stopped too, holding my breath as I braced for his response. Turning to me, he slid his sunglasses onto his hair. His eyes were narrowed and his eyebrows were furrowed together.
“You feel like a whore?”
I nodded. “Most days.”
The concern in his eyes vanished in a flash, fury taking its place. Without a word, he turned and stormed down the path. His long legs took him away from me so quickly I had to jog to keep up.
Tears welled in my eyes but I blinked furiously to keep them from falling. My heart didn’t just hurt, my entire body ached. I wasn’t sure what to make of Beau’s reaction, but the more distance he put between us, the more I wanted to curl into a ball and cry.
Up ahead, the trail took a sharp curve and Beau disappeared from my sight. Panic set in at the idea of being lost in the woods alone and I
started jogging again, rushing to catch him before I lost the trail.
Right as I was rounding the curve, Beau’s bare chest appeared and I crashed into him. My feet tripped over themselves and I would have fallen if not for his large hands gripping my arms.
“I thought you left.” I dropped my eyes to the ground to avoid his angry face.
“Sorry. I just needed a second to cool off and get my head back on.”
I nodded and waved him off. “Sure.”
So much for opening up. Why had he gotten so angry? Was my honesty really that upsetting? Our otherwise lovely afternoon was ruined. My feet were steady now and I tried to step away but Beau’s grip remained firm.
“Sabrina, look at me,” he said gently.
“Can we just go?” I asked our shoes.
“Hey.” He let me go and cupped my chin, tipping my eyes to his. “We need to talk about this.”
The last thing I wanted was to dive into this subject any further. Apparently, I had already said too much. “It’s fine,” I lied, avoiding eye contact.
“It’s not. Calling yourself that word is not fine.”
I jerked and my eyes whipped back to his. “What would you call me then?”
“Brave. Selfless.”
I scoffed. “How can you say that?”
“Because the truth feels right. The lies hurt. And hearing you call yourself a whore felt like someone had kicked me in the gut.”
