The Distance Between Us (Book Two ✓)

thirty-eight

EMMA

I watch Beau storm down the corridor, pressing his cell to his ear, as he grunts to Rocco about finding Rey. My angry stare never leaves his back but still, I don't really see him. Instead, my vision is blurred by frustrated tears welling in my eyes without my knowledge.

"Emma, I love you. But I can't do this right now." His words play over and over in my mind, each time making less and less sense. Can't do what, right now? Can't spare a few moments to talk to his girlfriend?

Mechanically and without any thought, I re-enter our suite, getting to my hands and knees to repack Beau's things when I nearly trip over a pair of jeans. As I fold his cut off band tees and leather jacket, the image of his face when he saw Beck cuts through my memory. Beck did this. Beck reached out to him, and just when Beau was warming to the mere idea of getting to know him, Beck pulled the rug from under him.

Beau had been right about him. The realization shatters me.

Dropping a pair of boots to the floor, I bring my face to my hands and wipe at the tears that have stained my cheeks. Is this my fault? Did I push Beau towards Beck... towards this?

Beau doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, at least somewhat, I argue with myself internally.

Frustration explodes out of me and I let out a helpless shout, standing and kicking the remaining clothing across the room. Just then, my eyes flash down the entryway, into the main room, where the guitar should be waiting.

Heartbeat racing, I sprint into the room and nearly collapse with relief when I find it resting gently across the mattress, my card neatly tucked under the strings. Thank God Beck didn't find it.

Will any of it even matter now?

Beau is off, God knows where, to find Rey. And while I can't be truly angry with him for helping his friend - the memory of frenzied panic as I used to search for Beau still ripe in my thoughts - I can be angry with him for never putting us before her. Before anyone, or anything, it seems.

Even as I'm thinking the thought, fear rips through my chest. Beau has never looked so broken as when he first laid eyes on Beck, holding his wallet, no where close to ushering an apology. The look in his eyes... He didn't look angry or surprised, he just looked crushed.

After that was even worse. I shiver, the emptiness in Beau's expression horrifyingly similar to what it used to be, but even sadder somehow.

And then, as there always is with Beau, there was the anger. The explosive, red hot anger that tends to make him lash out.

I only realize I'm pacing when Zeus stomps his feet next to me, watching me with concerned, brown eyes. Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, I run my fingers through Zeus's fur, focusing on every worried inhale and exhale that I breathe.

I want to be here for Beau - God knows he needs it right now. But I don't know how to be - not when I don't know anything about his mother, or Beck, or Zoey. My head hits the plush comforter and Zeus crawls up to lay at my side.

I apparently don't know much about Rey, either, I admit to myself with a deep sigh. What do I know?

My eyes find the guitar and the little note concealed in its pale envelope, the champagne flutes resting on the night table, just beside a bottle of sparkling grape juice. I crack a small smile, the idea of Beau drinking bubbly juice making me chuckle, despite the numb feeling in my chest.