Beau jabbed the button to release the glovebox and pulled out a tissue to blot at his lip. “If I didn’t say it before, thanks for stopping.”
“No problem. We’re like family, right?” Wade asked, holding out his fist for a bump.
Beau tapped knuckles without much enthusiasm. “Right.”
Wade’s family had moved to Ashe, Kansas, three years ago after a year of falling apart in the wake of his father’s death. His dad’s best friend Trent married Beau’s uncle, making Beau a surrogate cousin of sorts.
The kind of cousin you’d like to kiss, you know, if you did that sort of thing with guys. Which Wade didn’t.
Wade pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Beau directed him to the emergency room entrance. Once he’d stopped, the car idling at the curb, Beau grabbed his saxophone case and climbed out.
“Hey, wait,” Wade said as Beau started to close the door.
Beau paused, arm propped on the frame of the door. The position stretched his lean torso and drew Wade’s eyes to what could only be described as a slender verging on skinny body. There was something about the lines of him, the way he moved, that was incredibly attractive, much as Wade would prefer not to notice.
“I can give you a ride home, if you want?”
Beau hesitated, and Wade held his breath. He wanted Beau to say yes, but he also wanted him to say no.
He couldn’t reconcile his sexuality with his father’s rejection of it, so mostly he chose to ignore it. He dated girls because it was easy and expected. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a nice guy for once.
Beau could use an ally, someone to keep those fucking bullies away. Jeremy and Billy weren’t done with Beau. Wade was sure of that much.
“I’ll be done around 8 p.m.,” Beau answered at last.
“Okay, I’ll be here.”
Chapter 4
Beau’s mother was scowling when he got home after another surreal car drive with a Wade who was polite rather than surly. She sat alone at the small roll-top desk in the corner of the living room. Bills were strewn across its surface, meaning his mom would be in a crappy mood. Household budgeting was not her favorite task, and he felt the familiar flash of guilt that he didn’t spend his time working for a paycheck to contribute rather than volunteering for free.
Uncle Xavier still pitched in, though, and he had told Beau several times that he should focus on school and college plans, not the utility bills. Beau had been a straight-A student his whole life, and everyone in his family seemed to believe he’d be receiving some prestigious scholarship to a faraway school where he would do great things.
That wasn’t going to happen. Beau wanted to be a nurse because he enjoyed caring for people and cheering them up when they were ill or in pain, being more hands-on than any of the doctors he’d seen around the hospital. He’d wanted to be a nurse like his uncle ever since he’d shadowed Xavier at work for one of those career days. He’d idolized Xavier when he was just a little kid, and once he’d begun volunteering at the hospital, he’d been sure of his choice.
Maybe it wasn’t as prestigious as becoming a scientist or a surgeon … but it was a respectable, reliable career field. And even if he had wanted to do something different, he would never leave and miss what could be Gran’s final years. She’d raised him as much as his mother and Xavier had, and she was the only one in the family who seemed to really understand him.
But he hated that he’d disappoint his mother. Maybe Uncle Xavier too. And he knew that even living with Gran, their budget was tight. His mom picked up waitressing shifts at a diner, and Gran received Social Security. Between the two of them and Xavier’s help, they scraped by.
At this late hour, Gran had already gone to bed. She rarely made it much past 7 p.m. these days. He assumed his sister was in her room, texting with her friends or watching some trashy reality show and wishing in vain she had designer clothes.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m starving, so I’m going to grab a snack and go study.”
He turned for the kitchen, hoping to make an escape before she noticed his face. The living room was dim, only one lamp in the corner casting a glow over her desk.
“Hold up,” she said, eyeing the front window with a clear view of the driveway. “Was that Wade who just dropped you off?”
She sounded as incredulous as he felt about the whole thing.
“Yeah.”
Her dark eyes pinned him in place when he attempted to slink out of the room. “That boy is trouble,” she warned without heat. Then, she added, “What the hell happened to your face?”
So close, yet so far.
She crossed the room and gripped his chin, turning his face to the side to examine his busted lip.
He pulled away. “I’m just clumsy.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“Nothing happened, Mom. I tripped. I hit my face on the corner of a metal cabinet in the storage supply closet at the hospital. It’s a tiny cut, and I had plenty of medical staff to make sure I didn’t bleed out.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” she said. “Why is Wade giving you a ride home?”
Oh good, they were back to that. Beau wasn’t sure which topic he’d rather dwell on.
“He was there when I was leaving, and he offered. I figured it was better than walking or asking Uncle Xavier to go out of his way.”
“He was just there,” she said skeptically.
“Maybe he went by to talk to Trent. I don’t know, Mom.”
Beau was a crappy liar, but fortunately, his mother didn’t dig too deep. Most likely because she didn’t believe Wade was all that generous. It was difficult enough for Beau to believe, and he’d been there for it.
“He, uh, offered to drive me to school tomorrow too,” Beau said cautiously.
He didn’t want to reveal the entirety of the truth. Wade had offered to drive him to and from school every day, at least until Billy and Jeremy lost interest in beating his ass. But he had to tell her something, or she’d raise hell when Wade showed up in the morning.
“You don’t need a ride to school,” she argued. “You get there just fine every day.”
“Come on, Mom. I hate taking the bus like a freshman. It’s just a ride to school.”
Even when Ker’s car wasn’t in the shop, she never picked him up in the morning. Beau took the bus, or he walked, and he didn’t like either option.
A warning note crept into her voice. “That boy ain’t never been nice to you. I don’t know what his game is, but I know there must be one. You want to be his friend, hon, and that’s sweet, but Wade is fucked up.”
He stared at her. “Really, Mom? You’re going there?”
Everyone knew Wade was messed up. His father died when he was fifteen, and he’d been in one kind of trouble or another ever since. But Wade was right when he said they were like family, even if Beau would prefer to do very un-family-like things to the guy.
Uncle Xavier’s husband, Trent, had known Wade since he was a baby. He said Wade was once a straight-A student himself and had been a happy kid before he lost his dad. It was difficult to imagine, but Beau would have liked to have known that guy.
“I’m not saying he’s a bad kid, but he’s a bad influence right now.”
“Whatever, it’s just a ride to school.”
She sighed. “Have it your way. Just be careful and don’t let Wade distract you from what’s important. You need to focus on school and college, the life you can make for yourself, not parties or girls or whatever else Wade gets up to these days.”
“I know, Mom,” he said, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that he was lying to her about so many things. There’d be no girls, ever. There’d be no amazing future as a doctor or whatever she’d dreamed up. He wouldn’t be buying her a new house with his six-figure paycheck one day. He’d be pitching in, like Xavier, with decent but middle-class wages.
A familiar guilt ate at him. Maybe he should go pre-med. He could help his family so much more i
f he sucked it up. He swallowed hard and pushed the feeling back down. He could think about it later, when his mother wasn’t staring him down.
“It’s not like Wade and I are going to be best friends. The guy can barely stand me. You know that.”
“So long as you do, too,” she said, turning back to the bills spread out before her. The conversation was apparently over. Beau breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the kitchen to scrounge up some leftovers.
***
Wade pulled into Beau’s driveway the next morning.
He planned to wait in the car, but the front door opened, and Beau picked his way down the driveway in bare feet. He wore pajama bottoms and a wrinkled T-shirt, clearly not ready yet, and his hair was insane. Curly like always and sticking up in three different directions.
Damn, this image of Beau would stick in his head for a while. The whole freshly out of bed look worked for him. Beau wasn’t classically handsome, maybe, but he was interesting to look at. He had large brown eyes that made him seem younger than his eighteen years, lush lips — marred by that asshole Billy the day before but still full and sweet — and clear, lickable skin. Was that a thing? It must be. Wad had been working to shut down that urge for the three years they’d known each other.
He rolled down the window, and Beau bent down to rest his arms on the door frame. “Come in. Gran is making breakfast. There’s coffee and bacon and eggs, and—”
“You had me at coffee.”
Wade opened the door, and Beau led him into the house. As soon as he stepped inside, he was hit by the heavenly aromas of coffee and maple syrup. There was nothing better, and a wall of memories hit him in the face. Sunday mornings with his father flipping pancakes on the griddle, adding chocolate chips just for Wade and flirting with his wife until she blushed. Wade could still hear her admonishing him, Not in front of the kids, and his dad’s reply, They should know what love looks like. Remember this, Wade, for when you have your own wife.
“You okay?”
Wade blinked. Beau stood, head cocked to the side, as Wade stalled in the entryway. Visceral memories like these hit him less and less often these days. It used to be he couldn’t walk into his living room without seeing his father there. The move to entirely new surroundings in Ashe had helped, but it couldn’t erase all the memories. He didn’t want it to, even if he’d rather not experience them while Beau watched him.
“Fine,” he muttered. “You getting dressed today or am I here for no reason?”
Beau was unfazed by his rudeness. That’s what happened when you were rude most of the time.
“Gran will make you a plate. I’ll be ready soon.”
He disappeared up the stairs, a door shutting firmly a moment later.
Wade walked into the dining room, where Beau’s younger sister Maggie sat with a mostly empty plate across from their mother, Twyla, who had only coffee.
“It’s not fair, Mom! I don’t want to ride the bus. Why does Beau get a ride?”
“You want to ride with Wade?” Twyla asked. “Really?”
She said his name like it was a dirty word. He shouldn’t be surprised. Beau’s mother was the least sympathetic person he’d ever met. While other people might give his bad attitude some leeway because of the way his dad died, she wasn’t one of them. He had to respect that, even if he didn’t care for the way she talked to people.
“Can’t you take me?” Maggie asked. She hesitated, then spoke timidly. “Or maybe Carter?”
As a sophomore, Maggie attended the same high school they did. Wade had seen her walking hand in hand with a clean-cut kid with blond hair and blue eyes. He seemed nice enough, but Beau’s mother straightened in her chair.
“Is that what this is about? No, Maggie. I won’t have you riding around with some boyfriend. You want to end up pregnant in high school?”
“You don’t get pregnant from riding in a car!”
“Want to bet?”
“I’m going anyway,” Wade interrupted before they could escalate into full-scale screaming. Twyla had a temper, and Maggie looked frustrated as hell. “You can ride with me and Beau.”
Maggie looked up, eyes wary. Then she pushed back from the table. “Just forget it.”
She walked past, teary-eyed, and Wade glanced at Twyla. Her eyes had narrowed in suspicion.
“Beau fed me some ridiculous story about tripping and banging his lip into the corner of a cabinet at the hospital. And here you are, suddenly Mr. Nice Guy offering him a ride to school. If I find out he’s in some kind of trouble because of you …”
Wade lifted his hands in front of him. “I didn’t hit him.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Beau’s a good guy. I doubt I could get him in trouble if I tried.”
She looked skeptical. “Well, let’s not test that, hmm? Don’t try.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Go grab a plate. Gran will load you up.”
Gran sat on a stool at the stove, but even standing she was several feet shorter than him. Not petite or fragile, exactly; there was something sturdy about Gran. She was made of healthy stock, she’d said more than once when family members worried over her, and she had a strong personality that made you forget her age.
“Good morning, Wade. I’m surprised to see you here of your own volition.”
He smiled. “Hey, Gran.”
He bent to kiss her cheek, the scent of flour and sugar and grease filling his nose. Gran was his favorite family member, though she wasn’t technically a James. She was Beau’s maternal great-grandma. For some reason, she’d raised Twyla and Xavier, instead of their parents, but no one had ever explained all the reasons to Wade. Ancient history now anyway.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“I’ll just take coffee,” he said, moving to the stretch of counter where the brew sat in a pot. He opened the cupboard for a mug.
“Psh,” she said. “You’ll eat a proper breakfast, or you won’t leave. I’ve got bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs and pancakes. There’s some fruit cut up in the refrigerator.”
He grinned. “Jesus, I may have to come here every morning.”
“Don’t use the lord’s name in vain,” she scolded. “And you should come every morning. I bet Beau would like that.” She winked, and Wade had to laugh. Beau’s sexuality must not be a secret to her. He was pretty sure Beau hadn’t come out to his whole family; at least, no one had ever mentioned Beau’s orientation one way or the other. He’d never dated, as far as Wade knew.
“Well, we can’t go making Beau too happy,” he said. He poured a mug and nodded toward the skillets where Gran worked her magic. “Just sausage and pancakes.”
He’d feel bad for the poor old lady slaving over the stove, but he’d learned in the three years he’d been around the James family that Gran loved to prepare food and the kitchen was her domain over all others.
She dished up a plate and handed it over. “Now, go make nice, or whatever approximates nice for you.”
He chuckled. “You know me so well.”
This was why Wade liked Gran. She didn’t excuse his behavior or get angry that he was moody. Didn’t mean she tolerated disrespect; she’d called him out on it more than once. But she accepted his mercurial personality and didn’t try to fix him.
He returned to the table, which was now empty, and shoved in a few bites. He’d worked his way through the sausage, half a pancake and his cup of coffee by the time Beau returned dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt with a faded Spider-Man on it. His hair was slightly damp from the shower but tamer.
“Sorry I took so long,” he said.
Wade shrugged. “Breakfast is good. Must be nice to have someone feed you every morning.”
Beau shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I take it for granted. Still, it might be nice to sleep in and eat a breakfast bar now and then, but that’s not an option around here.”
Wade took his plate to the kitchen, thanked Gran, and returned to find Beau picking up his instrument case.
“Saxophone, right?”
He looked surprised. “Yeah.”
Wade nodded. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Thanks again for doing this. You really didn’t have to pick me up.”
Wade headed to the car, most of his energy in politeness expended. He decided Beau didn’t need an answer, so he started the engine and pulled out. But Beau wasn’t the quiet type, and the silence didn’t last long.
“You have class yet?”
“Not until 10.” Wade felt his cheeks heating at the admission. He’d gone out of his way to get up early and take Beau to school. He didn’t want Beau thinking too much of that. “I’ve got some errands to run for Mom before then.”
“Oh, well, thanks for fitting me in.”
He smiled again, then winced. Wade laughed.
“What?” Beau asked.
“You need to stop being so damn happy, or your busted lip is going to hurt all day. You smile too much.”
“Wow,” Beau said. “I’ve never been told I smile too much. You really are a moody asshole. Bet a split lip wouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“Not true,” Wade joked, “it would get in the way of my make-out sessions.”
Beau snorted. “How could I forget? Most of the student body is forced to watch your PDAs with the latest girlfriend in the school hallways. Who’s the girl this week?”
Wade kept his eyes on the road, trying to ignore the flush crawling up his neck. He hadn’t really thought about Beau watching him when he was with a girl. It made him feel uncomfortable, like a fraud. Which he was.
“Forced, huh? Didn’t know my actions were such a problem for you,” Wade said. “It’s Anna. Same girl as last week.”
Beau blushed and looked away. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
The silence Wade had desired fell like a wall between them. He was almost sorry for calling Beau on his shit. Almost. Even if Wade was a fraud, Beau didn’t know that. He’d been out of line with that comment.
Wade pulled up to the curb in front of the school to drop off Beau rather than suffer through the traffic snarl in the student parking lot. As soon as he stopped, Beau reached for the door.
Room for Recovery Page 3
