I waved off her worried expression and stood to follow her. “Before you go,” I said, stopping at my dresser and digging under the stack of shirts. “It’s looking like I won’t see you tomorrow.” My face creased with apology as I palmed the unwrapped present and shut the drawer. “So, happy birthday, Savannah.”
Her mouth popped open as I handed over the bracelet I’d made. Dark, braided leather with a hollowed-out charm of angel wings woven in.
The smile that crossed her face made me want to do anything to be better for her. Be someone she shouldn’t have to stay away from.
“Did you make this?”
I dipped my head as I watched her turn it around, her smile somehow growing when she found the wings.
“Why?”
My brow furrowed. “Your birthday.”
A soft laugh left her as she slipped it on and turned it to continue looking at the charm. “Right, but . . . you didn’t have to get me anything. And you made me something?”
“I wanted to. You’re my best friend.”
Everything . . . you’re everything. You’re my entire world.
Savannah’s smile changed. Dimmed, so it no longer reached her eyes.
I’d done that. Taken away her excitement because I was afraid for her.
Because about the same time I’d realized that Savannah Riley was more than just the angel who fell into my life and took away my anger, I’d realized that I needed to protect her from me. And that meant keeping my feelings for her to myself. Telling myself it was best for her.
But I hadn’t been prepared to hurt her in doing that.
“I love it,” she whispered. “I love it so much. Thank you, Beau.” She turned for the door and then turned back to me. “I have to go.”
My chest felt like it was burning and crumbling all at once as I nodded and followed her. “Right.”
She stopped just inside the doorway and asked, “What if I’d wanted him to touch me?”
Everything went still. So, scarily still. “What?”
She studied the door for a moment before looking at me. “This morning . . . what if I’d wanted Philip to touch me?”
I would’ve killed him.
The thought was instant and continued to shout out in my mind.
I swallowed.
Tried . . . tried to. Because I couldn’t anymore.
The thought of seeing Savannah around town or in the halls at school next to someone else . . . holding their hand or with their arm around her . . . it made me sick.
But I couldn’t stop her.
I wouldn’t.
So, I forced myself to nod and watched her try to hide the deep disappointment in her eyes as she returned the gesture and slipped out of my room.
I softly closed the door behind her and tried to slowly count backward from ten.
But by the time I got to three, I exploded.
Lashing out and punching the wall as everything went red. Yelling out a curse as my knuckles split.
Not more than a few seconds later, my door flung open, and Hunter came rushing in. Eyes wide as he looked around the room before landing on the dent in my wall.
He sounded all kinds of annoyed when he asked, “Again?”
“Out,” I snapped.
He lifted his hands and started backing out. “Where’s Savannah?”
My eyes narrowed as I stalked toward him, cradling my bleeding hand in the bottom of my shirt.
“It’s a question,” he said louder, trying to get my attention. “She was just here, and now you’re punching a wall.”
“I’m right,” I said through clenched teeth.
“What?”
“Tell me I’m right!” I yelled. “That she needs to stay away from me. That I’m bad for her—that I’m too dangerous.”
“Savannah?” Hunter asked slowly and lowered his hands. “That girl can handle herself against all four of us even better than Emberly can, and Em was raised with us. And, dude, don’t hit me, but you can’t decide what Savannah wants.”
“Move.”
“What?”
“Move,” I snapped when he just stood in front of the door, my chest pitching with ragged breaths and my arms trembling as I struggled so hard not to let that haze take control.
As soon as Hunter stepped back, I pushed past him and ran across the top floor and down the stairs. Our mom yelled after me when she saw me, but I raced out the front door and off the porch, running faster when I saw Savannah nearing the end of our property.
“Savannah!” I called out when she started moving around our fence.
She whirled around, her eyes going wide when she saw me. “What are you doing?”
“Stopping you,” I said through my uneven breaths, slowing as I neared her.
“I have . . .” She looked off to the side, then back to me. “I have dance.”
My head bobbed as I came to a stop a couple feet away. “I know. But I had to tell you that I can’t. I can’t do that,” I said roughly and gestured to her.
Her breath caught when she saw my blood-stained hand, but I continued.
“I can’t watch Philip touch you—I can’t watch anyone touch you. I’ll kill them because I wanna be the one touching you.”
Shock covered her face and a soft blush crept up her cheeks.
“I think your parents are right,” I said, nodding before quickly shaking my head. “I think you’re better off away from me, but I don’t know how to let you go because I think I started falling in love with you the first day you called me a bear.”
A breath of a laugh fell from her lips only to end in a sharp inhale when I stepped closer so I was nearly pressed to her.
Her golden eyes so wide. Her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Filling my head with everything that was Savannah—all sugar with a hint of cinnamon that day.
“You’re not just my best friend, Savannah. You’re everything.”
She pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to mine, and I’m pretty sure the world went still.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her closer as I moved my mouth against hers in what had to be the best moment of my life. A moment I knew I wanted to relive again and again.
Savannah was all unrestrained smiles and dancing eyes when the kiss ended, her cheeks red with heat. She started pulling away, but at the last second, lifted up to press another quick kiss to my mouth.
“About time, Beau Dixon.”
I was a mess.
I’d changed my outfit five times—maybe seven—before realizing with absolute horror that I was dressed for a fancy dinner rather than a day in my home. After forcing myself back into my regular leggings and shirt combo, I’d reached for my favorite necklaces before panicking over the way they would look.
I never panicked over jewelry.
I never panicked over what I wore, period.
I’d turned my curling iron on for the first time in years before forcing myself to shut it off and twisting my hair up in a messy knot on my head . . . and then I’d turned the curling iron back on.
My makeup was usually minimal—mascara if I felt like it. But I’d just finished putting on a slightly tinted lip gloss to complete my fully done face before fluffing the curls in my hair.
All because my husband was coming over.