A few hours have gone by since I got back from the store and made Beau lunch. It’s nighttime, and I should be on the way home, but I’m worried about Beau being alone. I am finding it hard to leave him. The hundreds of ways that his situation could become worse have been floating around in my head all day. I just can’t bring myself to leave him.
“Delilah?”
“Yes?” I turn away from the TV to look at Beau.
“Why are you still here?”
“No reason.” The last thing I want to do is tell him I’m worried about him. He’d make such a big deal about it.
” It’s not because you’re worried about me?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Beau places his hand on his chin and stares at me, with an amused glint swimming in his eyes.
“What?”
“It amazes me how you think just because you can lie about being worried about me that I will believe you.”
“I am not lying; it’s the truth. I’m not worried about you.”
“It’s funny how you think I can’t tell you are.”
“Okay!” I finally say, exasperated. “Maybe I am worried about you, but I believe that’s normal considering what you did for me. Anyone in my shoes would be worried.”
“Yes, anyone in your shoes would be, so why do you feel the need to lie about it, Delilah?” He prolongs the pronunciation of my name as he says it. I always loved it when he used my full name. He is the only one that calls me by it. And he’s right; I shouldn’t have to deny that I’m worried. It’s perfectly understandable. But I was concerned he might read too deeply into why I care.
“I didn’t want to inflate that huge ego of yours.” It’s partially true at least.
“Whatever you say, Cher, but it’s getting late. You should be on your way home,” Beau says, and attempts to stand up from the couch.
I offer my hand to help him, but he pushes it away. “Will you be okay on your own?” Concern laces through my words.
“Yes, I will.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Delilah, I’ll be fine.”
I think about it for a second before agreeing. “Alright, if you say so, but call me if you need anything. I’ll be available at all times for you,” I say, picking up my handbag from the coffee table.
“I know.” Beau turns and walks towards the staircase while I make my way to the front door.
“Bye,” I call out before he disappears upstairs.
I’m turning the doorknob to leave when I hear a crash coming from upstairs. All thoughts of leaving rush from my mind as I run towards the staircase. I take the stairs up so quickly that I almost fall twice. But that doesn’t bother me as much as what might have caused the crash.
Beau’s bedroom door hits the wall with a bang as I push it open. I look around the room, trying to find Beau or what made that awful noise. Beau isn’t anywhere in his room. But there’s light coming from the bathroom; he must be inside. As I walk towards the bathroom, my heart starts to beat hard against my ribcage. If he’s in there, it just makes things worse. There’s so many ways he could have harmed himself. I open the door, and the scene before me makes my heart drop.
“Oh my God, Beau!” I rush to his side and try my best to not step on the broken glass scattered across the floor. “What happened?” I ask, looking at the blood dripping from his right elbow and the broken mirror above the sink.
“I was trying to take off my clothes.”
“I don’t understand.” I look at him, confused.
“I was trying to slowly take off my shirt because I couldn’t do it quickly with my injuries. When the shirt covered my face, all that was left was pulling it off. I tried to do it quickly but then lost my balance and hit my elbow on the mirror.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me see.” I take his arm and check the wound. The cut is small; I am sure it was through the shirt. “Where do you keep your first aid kit?” I ask, looking around for it.
“There,” Beau points to one of the drawers above the sink.
“Alright, let me get it and clean your wound. Why don’t you sit and wait for me?” I suggest, walking Beau to the bathtub’s edge. I help him sit down before returning to get the first aid kit.
Once I have it, I walk back over to Beau. The whole time I’m cleaning and dressing his cut, Beau is staring at me, and I wonder why.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He’s still staring at me even though I’ve finished bandaging his elbow and I’m putting the first aid kit away.
“Because I can’t believe it.”
“Believe what?” I ask, staring back at him.
Beau doesn’t say anything for a good minute, just continuing to stare at me. Finally, he stands up and walks to where I’m standing by the sink. He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him. Warmth spreads across my back as his hand rests on my waist. I manage to stop my body from crashing into his by placing my hands on his chest. My right hand vibrates as his heart beats fast under it. I wonder why his heart is beating so fast. I feel my own heartrate increase as I slowly lift my eyes and they lock with his. His beautiful gray eyes gaze into mine, and I feel like he can see my soul. His eyes leave mine and move lower down my face. I see a look from him that I haven’t seen in ages. It’s the same look he had when he…
Oh my God, is that what he wants to do? No, he couldn’t. It’s bad enough I’ve been trying to deceive myself into believing that I don’t like his hands on me. But if he does that, then I’ll lose my mind. For the past few weeks, I haven’t asked myself the one question I should’ve asked the first day Beau laid his hands on me. I’ve been scared to because I know the answer would not be what I want. But I can bet if he does what his eyes are telling me he wants to do, then I’ll get my answer, so I don’t fight it. My eyes drift close, and I wait.