Label Me Proud

by Stephie Walls

  He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

  I took the seat next to him and scrubbed my face with my hands. There was no logical reason for me to stay; I just hated to go. All of Beau’s points were valid, regardless of whether or not I wanted to consider any of them.

  “Lee, you need to shower. You look like shit. You’re going to start to scare the other visitors in the hospital if you don’t do something to tame your hair…and Jesus, how long has it been since you shaved or brushed your teeth?”

  “What are you? My mother?” I smirked.

  Beau had always been far more concerned with appearances than I had, but that was probably because he had to work to be pretty, and rugged good looks came naturally to me. Or at least that’s what I’d convinced myself every day when I looked in the mirror and decided against additional grooming.

  I’d only been sitting in the vinyl chair for roughly two minutes, and my ass was already screaming in discomfort. Another night in it and I’d need a chiropractor and a masseuse. After confirming with the nurse that they had my contact information and would call if anything changed—good or bad—I conceded to a one-night stand at Beau’s place.

  The buildings we passed were non-descript at night and soon the streets were, too. It was odd to be in a place I knew so little about yet Beau was so completely familiar with. I hadn’t really noticed how different our lives had become when he was away at school because I never submerged myself in his world. He always came back to Harden, and I never thought to ask him about coming to see him at school. It wasn’t my scene, and I didn’t have any interest in it then or now. Then, when he’d come back to town for the wedding, I was suddenly smacked in the face—more than once—with reminders that we no longer lived the same lives—hell, they weren’t even similar except for our histories.

  His house was unlike even that of the one he grew up in. I couldn’t imagine what kind of mortgage this place had on it or what he’d need all this space for. His garage was nearly the size of half my house.

  “So much for a starter home, huh?” I tried to play it off like I didn’t think it was absurd. And then I wondered if I really believed that, or if I was jealous of my best friend’s success.

  “My parents gave me the money for the down payment as a combined graduation and wedding present. Sucks for the girl I actually marry; I doubt they’d do it twice.” He joked, but I knew Beau better than he gave me credit for. He was still basking in the attention Peyton had shown him. The loneliness would set in soon, and all he’d have was this enormous house and no one to share it with.

  I followed him inside and wondered if I were to yell, how many times my voice would echo with the open spaces, hardwood floors, and high ceilings. It was the middle of June in Georgia, and this house was cold. Not air-conditioning cold, just cold—sterile. He could move a football team in here and still not bring any life to the place. Boxes lined every wall, and furniture I’d never dreamed he’d pick out sat in awkward positions throughout every room we passed.

  “It’s a mess. I haven’t had time to unpack anything, and I’m not sure what’s mine and what belongs to Felicity. At some point, I’ll have to go through it. Just not tonight.”

  “You haven’t said much about any of that. You okay?”

  He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, likely so he’d be able to find them in the morning. Nothing in the place was organized, but I had to give him props; he might not have opened the first box, but the man had pizza and beer in the fridge. He handed me a cold one after twisting off the top and throwing it in the sink—Mrs. Chastain would have a coronary if she’d witnessed that. And then he got one for himself.

  “As good as I can be for someone who lost a baby that never existed and his fiancée in the span of a couple of hours.”

  It didn’t escape my attention that he didn’t make eye contact with me. Instead, he leaned against the kitchen counter—one of many—and crossed his ankles. I took the spot across from him at the island and did the same. “You know Peyton’s only going to add to that heartache, right?”

  “I’m not dumb, Lee. I know nothing can ever come out of a relationship with her. It was just nice to have someone compliment me and not criticize everything I did and everyone I associated with. She made me feel good when I needed it.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, still holding my beer. “Does she know that’s all it was?”

  “We talked about it. She doesn’t see her family as the obstacle that I do.”

  I found that hard to believe. “She doesn’t care that you slept with her sister?” Girls couldn’t stand the thought of a rank stranger having touched their man, and a relative would be a pill no female would ever want to choke down.

  “They aren’t close.” That was common knowledge. “But no, she doesn’t care.”

  I kept my skepticism to myself. “Is she serious about seeing you again?”

  “Yeah. She is.”

  “Dude, you’ve got to sort shit out in your head.”

  The red patches began to form on his cheeks, just under his eyes. “That’s just it. I think I feel worse about not feeling bad than I do about not marrying Felicity. She hated everything about me. I didn’t realize it until we were in Harden together. First at Christmas, and then again for the wedding. The only thing she loved was the bank account I was going to inherit.”

  That had to be a harsh realization, although I wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it. “How was she when you guys were in school?”

  “Totally different. We ran in the same crowd, had the same interests, liked the same things. But she hated Harden; she couldn’t stand my relationship with Masyn and wasn’t crazy about the one I had with you—even before she met either of you. It was like telling me she didn’t like Braden and Bodie. She never got it.” He sighed and finished his beer. “I kept thinking that once I took her home and she saw where I grew up and met the people I loved, that she’d change her tune. Problem was…she didn’t know any other songs.”

  “I’m not going to stand here and pretend to give you relationship advice, God knows my first attempt at one hasn’t gone all that well, but I can tell you that anyone who doesn’t love the things and the people you do, isn’t worth your time.”

  “Is it stupid to think Peyton’s different?”

  “Than her sister?”

  “Yeah. I mean, she’s still a Holstein.”

  “You tell me.”

  The color in his cheeks began to wash away when he no longer felt pressured. “Dude, she loved Harden. And I know things were rocky with Masyn, but Peyton seemed like she genuinely wanted to get to know her. She was willing to try anything we wanted to do—I couldn’t have paid Felicity to go off the rope swing. But more than anything, my mom loved her. They hit it off the way I thought Felicity should.”

  It was no secret in Harden that Beverly Chastain approved of the marriage between the two families; she just had no intention of adopting Felicity as her new daughter. Daughter-in-law was the only title she would have ever held in the Chastain household, and that didn’t come with affection.

  “Your mom has a sixth sense about things, Beau. She’s been pushing Masyn and me together since I learned to ride a bike. If she embraced Peyton, you might want to consider it. You just need to go into it with your eyes wide open, and make damn sure that Peyton knows what she stands to lose on her end. Because her mom and sister won’t take kindly to a relationship with you.”

  “You want another beer?”

  I did. I wanted twelve more—or however many it took to pass out, so I didn’t have to think about my dad or the fact that I hadn’t really talked to Masyn in almost forty-eight hours, and the pattern that was forming this week with her avoiding me was pissing me off. “I think I just want to crash.”

  Beau walked me to the foyer and up a flight of stairs to a hall. By the time we reached the fourth door on the right, I contemplated retracing my steps with breadcrumbs so I could find my way back out of here. He reach
ed in and flipped on the light. The mattress was still covered in plastic, the walls were bare, and four boxes sat at the foot of the bed labeled “bedroom six.” I glanced back at the door to see if they were numbered—they weren’t.

  “Help me tear this off. The linens are in the box at the end.” He motioned toward the box farthest from the door.

  Together, we ripped the plastic cover from the mattress and box spring, and then in an overly domestic show of manly teamwork, we made the bed with sheets fresh out of the package. He then pulled several pillows out of another box, along with a comforter set that I was certain cost more than all of my bedroom furniture combined.

  “I know it’s not home.” He looked around with his hands on his hips. “You should be able to get a decent night’s sleep, though. If you get hot, the remote for the fan is on the nightstand—no, in the nightstand drawer. Hell, I don’t know. Just throw off the down comforter and sleep under a sheet.”

  I didn’t need much. A place to lie down and hot water to shower, and I’d be good as new tomorrow…well, maybe not new, but slightly refurbished.

  “The bathroom is through there.” He pointed to a door in the corner. “And towels are in the box marked towels. They should be easy enough to find. If you don’t have soap or shampoo, you’re on your own. I haven’t found those yet.”

  I laughed. “What the hell are you bathing with?”

  “A bar of Ivory and crap shampoo I got at the gas station last night.”

  “Where’s your room?”

  “You’re not going to try to come cuddle with me in the middle of the night, are you? I mean, I’m all for trying to be here for you and everything, but that might be a little strange.”

  I stared at him and waited for him to move.

  “This way.”

  We went back the way we came, apparently the west wing was for guests, and the east was for the lord of the manor. There was a tiny door—which I assumed was a linen closet—just beyond the staircase we came up, and then double doors that opened into a room that took up the entire left side of the house. There were rooms inside of the room—a library or office, a sitting area with a bay window, and then another set of double doors that led to the actual bedroom. It was insane. The damn room was so big, even his king-sized bed looked like dollhouse furniture. And there were two of everything: two long dressers, two tall, skinny towers of drawers—I’m sure they had a name, I just didn’t know what it was—two chairs, two ottomans, two benches at the end of the bed, two fans, and the list went on and on.

  “You realize there are third world countries that don’t have this amount of real estate? Yet you and Felicity bought it for two fucking people?”

  He pointed through another set of doors, although these had little glass panes in them and slid into the wall. “Check out the bathroom.”

  “Holy shit,” I called out the moment it all came into view. “I’ll sleep in here. Screw the guest room.” His and her closets that I swear were the size of Masyn’s room at my house, a double shower with more jets than the New York football team, and a sunken bathtub I could swim in. And to top it off, the toilet had its own door, and there were separate vanities. “You could put a stove and fridge in here and never have to leave.”

  “The master suite is what sold Felicity on the house.”

  I hoped to God there was something he loved here and that he hadn’t just bought the house to please her. “What about you?” I didn’t know what a place like this near the heart of Atlanta would cost, but it’d be a mint in Harden. “Tell me what you exchanged your soul for.” I flipped off the light and went back out to the bedroom.

  “The game room and pool are nice.” Nice. Beau mortgaged his life away for a game room and in-ground pool. “There’s stadium seating in the theatre.”

  “You suck at pool, you have the fairest skin of any guy I’ve ever met and burn under the light of the moon, and you hate watching television.”

  “You compromise when you’re getting married.”

  I’d struck a nerve. It was obvious that being here versus Harden made the reality of his situation a little clearer. He was living in a world Felicity created—without Felicity. And he hated it.

  “Now that you’re not getting married, maybe you should consider what you want.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d be more than happy to help you find it.”

  “Thanks, Lee.” He looked around at all the boxes and crap piled everywhere. “I’m going to need a bulldozer to dig out of this one.”

  “Luckily for you, I know where we can get one.” Masyn’s brother CJ worked on a crew that did grading—not that I really thought we’d bulldoze the house…although it might be pretty damn cathartic for Beau.

  I’d almost made it to the final door in the funhouse maze when Beau called out to me. “She’ll call, Lee.”

  The more time that passed, the harder it became to believe. Voicing that doubt would only continue the conversation, and it wasn’t one I cared to have. I quirked my mouth to the side and huffed slightly. All I could muster in response was a dip of my head and a slight nod.

  Beau needed a damn golf cart to make the walk down the hall not quite so long. The only light came from the room he’d shown me, which I extinguished as soon as I got my phone and my charger out of my bag. I plugged it in and laid it on the nightstand, pulled my shirt over my head, and slid off my jeans.

  The sheets were cool against my bare skin, and the weight of the down comforter almost reminded me of having someone with me. It was late, and there was no way Masyn had been at the shop in hours, yet there were no notifications or missed calls—no messages or texts. I tried one more time to get in touch with her, only to have it go straight to voicemail. She’d shut me out, and until I got back into town, there was nothing I could do about it.

  Right now, I had to focus on my dad. I wished Masyn were by my side. Just hearing her voice would alleviate the huge void I carried in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to be optimistic about my dad’s condition and to believe that once I could explain the misunderstanding to Masyn, then all would be right. The truth was, my dad might not survive, and Masyn may never believe me. And at the end of the day, I had to be okay with either. I just wasn’t sure I’d ever reach that point.

  Sleep came easier than I thought, and in the morning, the sun radiated through the blinds that I hadn’t closed, waking me up like an alarm clock. It was after seven and visiting hours had already started. As tempting as it was to race through a shower and jump back in the car to dash over to the hospital, I lingered under the hot water, and the stream pounded away at my shoulders and sore back. I even took the time to clean up the scruff on my face and make myself look presentable. Somehow, the routine made me feel more human, and like, maybe the day wouldn’t be shit the way the two before it had.

  It took virtually zero coaxing from Beau to get me to stop at a Waffle House to eat breakfast, and by the time we were actually on our way to the hospital, it was nearly eleven. I’d called the nurses’ station twice to check on my dad; although with no change, rushing over there to spend twenty minutes in his room before they kicked me out seemed counterproductive. Or maybe I was afraid the next time I went in could be the last.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Beau acted like he had an assigned seat in the waiting room. He sat in the same chair each time we walked in. I glanced over my shoulder to see him staring at the screen on his phone, and for once, I wasn’t irritated that it was in his face; I was grateful he had something to occupy him so, in turn, he would be here to occupy me. The nurse buzzed the doors open to allow me back into the ward, and I made the trip to my dad’s room that seemed all too familiar.

  For the first time since I’d gotten here on Friday, when I’d held my dad’s hand and sat next to his bed, I started talking. I had prayed, I had watched him breathe, I had paced the room, but what I’d yet to do was let him know I was here. I probably should have told him about Beau’s wedding catastrophe, or that I’d had a new
liner put in the pool, or hell, even told him that I cut my hand. I didn’t do any of those things. He would have given Beau shit for getting wrapped up with a girl like Felicity in the first place, scolded me for spending too much money on a hole in the ground, and worried about whether or not I’d seen the best doctor in town to stitch me up, just before he cussed Farley’s name. He could be rather crotchety at times, and right now, I’d kill to hear any one of those lectures. I also needed to tell my dad how fucking scared I was that he wouldn’t wake up to chew me a new asshole. And that’s what I did.

  “If you give up on me, old man, I swear to God, I’ll have some shit put on your headstone about your love of flowers and fairies. You’ll be the laughing stock of the cemetery. I really don’t want to have to do that, so how about you come back to me instead, yeah?”

  The beeping on the heart rate monitor quickened noticeably, and I watched it, waiting for someone to come racing in, calling out codes and jumping on his bed with paddles to shock him. But the blip only lasted about a minute, and his thumb twitched in my hand. A smile crept across my lips; the old bastard was laughing at me. He was far too stubborn to die without more fanfare. This had been his trial run—go big or go home. It wasn’t big enough, so he’d go home to Roswell. God wasn’t ready for him yet. I could feel it in my gut. Now I just had to wait it out until he decided to share that secret with the rest of the world.

  I left his room, pushed through the doors, and went back into the waiting room with more energy than I’d had in a week. And even though I’d been happy to see Beau glued to that tiny phone screen thirty minutes ago, it ticked me off to find him still playing on it. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he did on that thing. We had the same phone, and mine never held my interest for anywhere near that long.

  “Hey, jacksack, wanna go get some coffee?”

  Beau didn’t look up. His thumbs flew around the bottom of the screen, and when I peeked over the edge to see what he was doing, I realized he was texting with someone.