Snared (Jaded Regret #1) (20 page)

Ever
? I pulled back so I could see her face. I traced my finger along her jaw. “I decided I needed to show you how much I thought about you while I was gone. I’m glad I did.”

April rolled us so she was laying on top of me, her body fitting against mine like it belonged there. “I like your way of showing me,” she whispered. Her fingers traced every outline of every tattoo covering my body, following each touch with a kiss. “I want to show
you
now.”

April

I LAY AWAKE,
staring at Beau’s face as he slept. I couldn’t believe I was here; that
we
were here. After a month of doubting what was going to happen to us once he returned, every single fantasy I’d had came true. I was afraid to go to sleep for fear I’d wake up and this had all been a dream.

I stretched, my body deliciously sore. He’d told me he’d only slept with one other woman in his life, but damn that man was talented. But beyond that, he didn’t just have sex with me. No. He
made love
to me. He used his body to tell me words he couldn’t say. The way he laced his fingers with mine as we moved together or the way his lips moved against mine was so much more than sex. When we’d showered, eaten dinner, and he’d told me he wanted me to stay, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation when I’d agreed.

The bathroom light was still on, giving me an unbridled view of Beau’s body. He was magnificent. Between the muscles of his arms, chest, stomach, and back and the colorful ink that covered him, I could stare at him for the rest of my life and not tire of it.

When I’d seen him fly into his driveway and stride toward me like a man on a mission, I’d been hopeful. We’d come so far over the last ten days of his tour. But never had I thought he’d pick me up and take me inside his house and put me against the door, stripping me of not only my clothes but any lingering doubt I had about how he felt.

I lifted my hands and touched my lips, puffy from the hours of kissing we’d done. I reached out and touched his lips, feeling his breath as he slept. I knew he had to be exhausted after sleeping on a tour bus for a month. Natalie had come home when we’d been eating earlier. She’d taken one look at us—me in Beau’s shirt and my shorts, both of our hair wet from showers—and grinned. We’d had a silent conversation, and she’d left us in the kitchen.

Unable to stop myself, I leaned over and kissed Beau’s lips softly. I didn’t want to wake him, but I needed to touch him. When he didn’t move, I nestled my head on his chest and listened to his heart beating. This man was everything to me, and that both exhilarated and scared the shit out of me. I had no idea what that meant for us, but I knew at this point I’d do anything to wake up next to him again. He could wreck me, and I knew it.

My eyes drifted closed as his warmth cocooned me. Just before I lost consciousness, I felt his lips against my forehead. Smiling, I fell into a deep sleep.

“I have to go back to Orlando later,” I said. “I have to work tomorrow.”

Beau nodded. He’d been quiet since we got up, but I was giving him his space. I knew enough to know it wasn’t all about me. Sometimes he needed to work things out in his head before he could verbalize them. “I want to go.”

“You want to go with me?”

“I want to see Robbie.”

My heart soared. Robbie needed him, and I was starting to think Beau needed him as well. Maybe getting through to Robbie would help Beau see he had another purpose in his life. “I think he would like that.”

“Are we allowed to take him out of the home for the day?”

I leaned over and kissed him. “Beau, you never cease to amaze me. Yes, I’m allowed to take him out for the day. I’ll have to see if I have any court dates tomorrow or any pressing meetings. But if I don’t, or I can move anything, I would love nothing more than to do that.”

“When I was a kid, I always wanted to drive go-karts. I’ve never done that before.”

He had
never
driven a go-kart before? “I’m sure that Robbie would love to do that. Beau, I have a question to ask you.” I knew it made him anxious when I said that, but I had to find out. “What . . . what’s going to happen with us?”

He stared at me for so long I wondered if he heard me. “I-I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.” He moved his hands back and forth between us.

I nodded. “I live in Orlando. You don’t. You travel a lot for your job. I guess my question is—do you want to figure out how to make this work?”

His throat worked, but his eyes never left mine. “I do, April. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But I don’t have any fucking idea how to do that. It terrifies me.”

I was shocked at not only his honesty but how effortless it seemed when he said it to me. Maybe we had broken down some walls with each other. I reached over and laced his fingers with mine. “It doesn’t have to terrify you. There’s just a few things we have to figure out.”

“How about we figure something else out right now.” He pulled me into his lap.

I thought we had
more
than figured that out, but there was no way in hell I was going to deny him.

I opened the grand door to my parents’ house, stepping on the cool marble floor. My shoes echoed through the empty room as I made my way farther into the house.

“Mom?” I knew they were here; it was a rare day off for my dad. Even after almost thirty years of marriage, my parents were the epitome of married love. My mom dropped everything when my dad wasn’t working, and they always spent the day together. I hoped to be the same way with my husband someday. My thoughts immediately went to Beau, but I pushed them away. I couldn’t think like that yet.

“Back here, sweetie!” I followed the voice to the back patio, where my dad was grilling chicken while my mom relaxed in a lounge chair next to him. When I walked through the open doorway, my mom immediately stood up and hugged me.

“It’s so great to see you,” she said. “You’re looking beautiful as always. How’d you get away from work today?”

“I’m on my way to one of the group homes.” I left out the part about Beau waiting at my house for me. I hadn’t thought he’d be ready to visit my parents with me just yet. Plus, I wanted their advice. “I’m going to pick up one of the kids for the day.”

My dad leaned over and kissed my cheek. His eyes sparkled as he smiled at me. “I’m proud of you, April.” There was a time when I wasn’t sure he was going to be proud of me. When I’d told him I wasn’t continuing medical school because I had a different dream for my career, he’d been disappointed. As much as I knew he wanted me to follow in his footsteps, he never let it affect our relationship.

“Do you want a drink, honey? Dad’s about got lunch ready if you want to stay.”

“I’ll take tea. I’m here to ask some advice.”

My mom stopped pouring, frozen as she searched my face to try to figure out what I wanted to know. My dad finished the chicken and turned the grill off. He set the plate on the table in the middle of us.

“We’re listening,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded, sipping my tea so I could give myself a moment to collect my thoughts. Not that I hadn’t been thinking about it ever since Beau and I had agreed to see each other—or whatever we were doing.

“Do you remember Beau?”

My mom tapped her finger against her lips as she scoured her memory. My dad nodded. He was great with names and people. “The drummer from Jaded Regret, right?”

“Ah, yes! I knew that name sounded familiar.” My mom laughed at herself. “He seemed like a nice guy, although he was very quiet. Sure can play the drums, though.”

I searched their faces for any sign of distaste or disapproval of the way he looked or who he was. I saw nothing. “Yes. That’s him.”

“What about him, dear?” My mom took a piece of chicken and put it on my dad’s plate, then one on mine before getting herself one. My stomach was in knots, so I didn’t touch my food.

My dad watched me, his gaze unrelenting. He knew how to read me well. “Well, we . . . uh . . . we’ve been talking since the fundraiser.”

My mom raised her eyebrows. I rarely brought up anything having to do with men, not wanting to get their hopes up about me settling down and giving them grandbabies. “Talking? I doubt you’d be bringing it up if it was just talking. Is it serious, April?”

I fiddled with the fork next to my plate. “It’s still . . . early. I like him a lot.”

“It’s hard to have a relationship with someone in his lifestyle.” My stomach clenched at my dad’s words. Was he judging him? When he saw the expression on my face he shook his head. “Just because he doesn’t stay in one place for long. What is that going to mean for you?”

I nodded. “I know. Things are early, so we’re still figuring all that out.”

“Well, honey, you know we only want you to be happy, but you said you wanted advice, so what’s the problem?” My mom sat back and put down her fork, giving me her full attention.

I sighed. Here went nothing. “Well . . . the reason I wanted advice was because Beau has . . . history of mental illness in his family. He grew up in foster care because his mother couldn’t handle his issues after his father committed suicide when he was young.”

Both my parents froze at my admission. “What’s your question, sweetie?” Dad asked.

“Well . . . you . . . you’re familiar with mental illness, right? I mean, as a doctor, you have to know about all these things.”

My dad looked at me for a moment before answering. “Well, yes, April. What kind of mental illness are we talking about?”

I was embarrassed to admit I didn’t know. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I know depression is part of it. A huge part of it, if I had to guess.”

“Depression is common,” he said. “So what exactly is your question?”

“Is he . . . can he care about me? Can he be in a relationship?”

“Honey, without knowing much about his history or being around him, I can’t tell you about him accurately. What I can say is people with all kinds of mental illnesses can be successful in relationships as long as they have a good treatment plan and support from everyone who is close to them.”

“Can I make him happy?”

My mom covered one of my hands with hers. “Sweetie, happiness can’t come from you. He has to be happy and content with where he is and where he’s going in life. You can’t fix him. I know you’re a fixer and want to make things right for everyone, but regardless if you and Beau decide to be serious or not, you can’t be his rescuer. Doing that will only pull you down with him.”

Every word she said made sense, but I
wanted
to be that person for him. I wanted to keep him out of his head and help him see how worthy he was. “How do I support him when he’s not happy?”

My dad blew out a breath. “If you’re going to be in a relationship, he’s going to have to learn to talk to you when he’s not okay. Communication is the key to any relationship, but particularly in one like the two of you. Regardless of what you decide, he belongs to a rock band, and you are a social worker. You don’t live in the same area. So for you to feel like
you’re
happy, he’ll have to make sure he’s ready to communicate with you. Do you think he is?”

I thought of Beau, our bodies moving together while his eyes drank in every part of me. I thought of his fingers laced with mine anytime he could. I thought of the gentle way he’d kissed me before I left my house. “He does. It’s not always with words. He’s . . . quiet. It’s hard for him.”