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raised-u-fr0m-perdition · 12 days

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Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to cafekitsune)

A/N - feedback is my fuel :)

two - sunflower

PREVIOUSLY ON LMF:

I crept down the stairs, treading light in fear of startling Will. I gently tried the door, hearing a little girl whimpering. Then I spotted a middle aged man holding a gun, and a small brunette girl hugged my legs, terrified.

“It’s ok.” I whispered, training my gun on Will Brown. “It’s ok, sweetheart. As for you,” My eyes focused on the man, “Sheriff’s department, put your hands where I can see ‘em-” He fired, and my trigger was pulled in a quick response, aiming for his shoulder while his bullet got me clean in the gut, which was caused by me moving to protect Harriet at the same time. The little girl screamed, while Beau and Jenny started yelling from upstairs. I collapsed against the wall, sliding down as Harriet crawled up to me, looking terrified.

“He hurt you.” She whispered, crying, but I shushed her and brought her head to my shoulder, ignoring the riddling pain in an attempt to soothe this little girl.

“Hey, it’s-” I was overcome by a cough as my hand moved to stem the flow of blood, “it’s ok, sweetheart. Perfectly fine, you’re safe, ok?” I stroked her hair, closing my eyes briefly as the red liquid stained my fingers. My head spun from how damn painful it was, like a thousand daggers piercing one spot on me, driving in slowly. “Just calm down for me, my friends are coming.”

As if on cue, Beau and Jenny rushed in, and once they realised that my attacker and Harriet’s kidnapper was downed, their attention turned to me. Beau instantly knelt in front of me while Jenny checked up on Will, his expression freaked out and pale. “Jesus- Jesus holy Christ, Belle, we’re gonna need a paramedic. Hoyt, call it in, now!” Then he turned back to me, putting his hands over the bullet wound to put pressure. I coughed slightly, hissing, but I kept stroking Harriet’s hair, not wanting her to get too scared.

“Just get her out of here.” I nodded to Harriet. “I’ll hold on, just keep her safe.” My bloodied hand reached out to grip Beau’s bare forearm. “Take her home.”

NOW:

The world around me turned from black to blurry colour as I opened my eyes, the cold breeze of somewhere unfamiliar hitting my face as I groaned softly. My finger twitched, something heavy clamped onto it, making me let out a small, admittedly pathetic whine of confusion. My head hurt slightly, and there was a bearable throbbing pain in my stomach. I saw a woollen blanket over me, the room smelling of antiseptic and the walls painted blue and white with telltale plastic chairs and tables beside the bed, along with monitors beeping with my vitals on display on either side of me. The tables had flowers and small presents on it. The hell would someone be thinkin’ to give me all this? My head fell back against the pillows piled up behind my head as I registered where I was.

The hospital.

“God, it’s been a while since I was in one of these.” I grunted to myself, then I found a nurse standing at the door. She smiled upon seeing me awake, instantly coming over to take the tube out that was inserted into my arm.

“You’re awake, Deputy Joyner.” She chuckled, looking at me in admiration. “My name’s Lydia, I’m your nurse. Your vitals seem stable, so I can report back to Dr Jones and also notify your visitors to come and see you, if that’s fine with you.”

“How long have I been out?” I asked, coughing slightly. I felt at ease around Lydia, her friendly disposition making the fact that I had a bullet wound in my stomach a lot more bearable. I caught sight of myself in a mirror- tired, worn out, almost identical to who I saw six years ago in a hospital mirror, minus the cuts and bruises.

“Six days. You suffered from blood loss, so it’s understandable.” The information almost made my heart shatter. It was Liv’s birthday tomorrow, and had I not woken up today, her auntie would be in hospital when she was needed the most. I turned to Lydia, nodding slightly.

“A-Alright. Who’re my visitors?”

“Quite a few, actually. There’s Jenny Hoyt, Emily Arlen, Cassie Dewell, Denise Brisbane, Beau Arlen, Olivia Barlowe and Dean Barlowe.” I wasn’t surprised that Mark wasn’t on the list, but I smiled anyway, knowing that I’d be seeing one of my best friends, Dean, after a long time.

“Let ‘em in.” I grinned, and she nodded, leaving. A minute later, the room was now full of every person on that list, all of them exclaiming in relief that I was ok, making me laugh. “Guys, I’m ok.”

“The hell you are, you had a bullet in you!” Dean scoffed, though there was a wide grin as he came over and hugged me cautiously. I patted his back, looking him in his green eyes with a smile.

“Well, now I am. Nice to see you, pal.”

“I’d say it’s nice to see you, but you’re in a hospital bed, so I’m gonna say it’s nice to see you alive.”

“Don’t hog her, dad.” Olivia pouted, practically shoving Dean away (albeit half-heartedly) before bear hugging me in a way that I wouldn’t get hurt. I stroked her hair, kissing it as I took a deep breath out.

“I’ll always have time for my baby girl.” I grinned, rubbing her back as I felt her shaking and holding back tears. “I’m ok, sweetie. I’m safe.” I shushed her gently, my eyes closing as I rested my cheek on her head. I opened them, looking up to Beau and Jenny with a small nod. Then my eyes landed on Emily, and I chuckled softly, raising my hand slightly from Liv’s back. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey, Elle.” Emily grinned, waving. I sent her a smile in response, my eyes glancing to Beau briefly before back at his daughter.

“Givin’ your dad any trouble?”

“No, no trouble.”

“Good.” I then let go of Olivia, kissing my niece’s forehead before looking at Jenny, Denise and Cassie, who all looked sympathetic. “Y’all need to stop lookin’ at me like that. I’ll be up and about in a few hours, like hell I’m missing my girl’s sweet sixteen.”

“You need to rest up, Belle.” Beau interjected softly, gesturing to me. “You took a bullet to the gut.”

“I’ll rest up when I’m dead.” I joked, moving to sit up, and Beau, with his Southern gentlemanliness, instantly stepped forward to make sure I didn’t strain myself.

“Easy, easy.” He helped me sit up, pulling the blanket further over me. “Don’t push yourself, ok?”

“You got sent presents.” Cassie pointed to the flowers and small gifts. “The Browns were ecstatic that you brought their daughter back.”

“So they sent over some beautiful forget-me-nots.” Jenny smiled, coming over to pat my shoulder. “We’re so glad you’re ok.”

“Bo-Bo, she deserves a raise.” Denise snickered, looking at Beau and waggling her eyebrows.

“Shush, Denise, I’m doing my job.” I chuckled. “The one I signed up to do, remember? You’re bound to get a bullet or two out there.”

The next day, it was Olivia’s birthday, and I’d gotten myself discharged from the hospital so I could be there for my baby girl. I had to wear a button-up dark blue plaid shirt, since that was easier to get on with a hole in your stomach, along with some comfy jeans. I was looking at a photo of my sister, Lucy, who was eight years older than me. Even so, she treated me like I was her everything, and she was mine too.

“Hey, Luce.” I whispered, my thumb rubbing over her broad smile. It was almost like she was here with me, with that twinkle in her blue eyes that we shared and her brunette hair that was cropped at her chin but still somehow fell in beautiful waves that made her look ethereal. “It’s been a while. Six years, to be exact, and I miss you. Dean misses you, Mark does, Liv especially. She’s grown up to be so… so beautiful, so you.

You’d be so proud of her, Luce, she even has your brains and we’re all the better for it.” I laughed a bit, then looked back. “I wish you could see her, I really do, but I hope you’re watching. Wherever you are. Love you.” I kissed my hand, pressing it to the frame while my memories with her flashed in front of my eyes like a film reel. “I love you so much.”

“Aunt Isa?” I heard from the door, turning to see Olivia. She looked stunning, wearing a pretty blue sundress that was decorated with yellow flowers, her hair done up with a matching blue flower clip and some yellow flats.

This was my sister’s daughter.

“Liv, honey.” I smiled broadly, going to hug her immediately. “You look gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Really. If I made a daughter from scratch, I’d want her to be you.” The words made a goofy smile appear on her face, and she hugged me again quickly. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, auntie.”

When I pulled away, I stroked her cheek before remembering something. “Oh! Uh, your mom, before she died, she had a shoebox that she wanted to give to you on your sweet sixteen.”

“A…” Liv’s eyes narrowed, “shoebox?”

“Sounds lame, I know. But…” I hurried over to look underneath my bed, pulling out a grey shoebox with ‘Olivia’ written in Lucy’s neat handwriting. I passed it to her for her to open. Olivia took the box with slightly shaky hands, opening the top.

Inside were multiple cassette tapes, eleven when I counted, of Lucy’s favourite songs, along with a couple of first edition books and pieces of her jewellery. Necklaces, rings, at the forefront a charm containing a raven’s feather. The jewellery were mostly silver, but the few gold ones I recognised were from her weddings. Her engagement rings along with a golden locket that Dean had given her. Along with photos of Olivia growing up until she was nine years old.

But something caught my eye.

I saw one of the eleven cassette tapes had a word that I recognised all too well.

Sunflower.

While Olivia was busy admiring the necklaces, I nicked the tape from the box, storing it in the pocket of my jeans. I noticed a large shadow cover the light from the door, and I saw Beau there. I could trust Beau with this. He could help me, so could Jenny and Cassie. I quickly exchanged a look with him that he understood, so he put on a smile, strolling over and clapping me on the shoulder.

“There’s my Southern Belle, all up an’ about. From a Texan to a Kansan, you are what I’d call a Texan 10, even in a faded plaid.” He grinned, squeezing my shoulder slightly and winking before turning to Olivia. “And you, young lady, must be Olivia.”

“That’s me.” Liv nodded, looking between Beau and I. “And you must be Aunt Isa’s favourite sheriff.”

“While I appreciate it, I’m the only sheriff.”

“Exactly.”

“Liv, sweetheart, can you go downstairs? I’ve gotta bring the cake, but start opening your presents.” I said to Olivia with a sigh. I kissed her hair, smoothing it back for a moment before letting her go, and then I turned to Beau when I knew she was out of earshot.

“Something’s up, right?” He frowned, folding his arms and tilting his head. “Talk to me, Belle.”

I held up the cassette tape, a long sigh leaving my mouth. “Titled ‘sunflower’. It’s the nickname my sister used to call me, so I can’t help but think if this is a message seen six years too late.”

“Or something that got mixed up in the wrong box.”

“That’s also a possibility.” I nodded, then pouted in thought. “I’ve got a cassette player somewhere in my study. After Liv’s celebration here is over and she’s out with her friends, whaddya say we have a lil’ listen to it?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Beau agreed, then his eyes landed on the framed photo of my sister and I. “That’s Lucy, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“She looks just like her sister.” He rubbed my arm comfortingly, the backs of his fingers grazing my skin. “How much older was she?”

“Eight years.” I replied softly, leaning slightly into his touch, even though I didn’t quite register it.

“Ah, so she’d be lordin’ it over us if she was still alive. Even a forty-year-old sheriff can’t escape the clutches of an older sister.”

“Neither can a forty year old deputy.” I chuckled, and his hand moved down to hover in front of mine, but my pinky wrapped around his, my breath hitching as I thought of the day I’d skipped down the stairs six years ago and found my sister dead in the garden, multiple knife wounds in her chest. Then the weeks after where I searched and searched for any leads but found none.

My head snapped forward, glass breaking and flying to the left, cutting my cheek as the seatbelt tightened on my chest. My forehead banged against the wheel, a cry escaping my mouth-

“Hey, Deputy.” Beau’s low timbre snapped me out of it again, I looked into his warm green eyes, the ones I’d grown to trust with my life. “You doin’ ok?”

“I… yeah.” I nodded, cracking a smile. “Let’s go celebrate my baby girl’s birthday, hm?” Then I started making my way downstairs, taking the cake from a side room before emerging into the kitchen/dining room and setting it on the counter. Carla, Mark, Dean, Poppernak, Jenny, Cassie, Denise, Cormac (surprisingly) and Emily were all there, and let out a loud cheer upon seeing me up on my feet.

“There she is!” Jenny grinned, pointing to me.

“Deputy of the Month.” Poppernak added with a smile.

“Pops, what did Sheriff say about sucking up?” I winked before going over to hug them each, reaching Carla, who I smiled at happily. “Carla, it’s so good to see you.”

“You too.” She hummed, patting my back before looking me in the eye. “Beau told me about the shooting; are you ok?”

“Perfectly fine, just a few surface scratches, not enough to down me.” I chuckled, then turned to the cake, unboxing it quickly. It was a chocolate cake with vanilla icing and caramel drizzle, and it had ‘Happy Birthday Olivia’ in swirling chocolate piping. I kissed Olivia’s temple, patting her shoulder as I whispered in her ear. “Your mom’s necklace suits you.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Mark walked over with a smile I knew was forced for Olivia’s sake. “Isabelle.”

“Markham.”

“I got Olivia’s present.” He held out a gift-wrapped box, which I put to the side. “Look, you must be really tuckered out from the bullet. I could take Liv for until you get better-”

“I think I’m good.” I smiled briefly, nodding curtly. “I can take care of other people even with a bandage on me. But, uh, thanks for offering.”

He lowered his voice so Olivia couldn’t hear. “I don’t appreciate you keeping my daughter from me. This is why I made the custody claim.”

“Can we not talk about this on my niece’s birthday?” I asked in clipped tones, but I still put on a smile. “I’d hate to dampen everyone else’s parade with your half-assed smiles and trivial personal matters.”

Mark’s grey eyes bore into me for a moment, but then I felt the looming presence of Beau behind me, which seemed to prompt him to back off.

Jenny, Cassie, Beau and I sat down in front of a cassette player once everyone had cleared out. I held the tape between my fingers, trembling slightly as I wanted to find out what Lucy wanted to tell me. Or if it was all in my head.

“When you’re ready.” Jenny patted my back, giving me the strength I needed to put the tape in, shutting the compartment with a click and pressing the play button. The tape whirred, a voice crackling to life. Lucy’s voice.

‘Hey, sunflower.’ It was her. Clear as day, exactly how I remembered her from six years ago. Beau’s hand automatically covered mine, a subtle gesture that told me that he was there. Her voice was shaky, unsure, nothing like the honeyed tones and sweet, soft syllables that I’d known since I was born and even before that. ‘I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, but I want you to know that I love you. I… I had to tell you somehow, but things were getting worse. Much worse, but I didn’t want to worry you. You were so happy with Jack, and I miss you. I guess after a while it hit me. That not having you around makes things that much harder, because it was always you and me. You… and me. Never forget that.’

“Luce.” I whispered as the player clicked, telling me that the recording was over. “What were you hiding from me?”

“I’m so sorry, Elle.” Cassie sighed, rubbing my shoulder.

“My apologies, sweetheart.” Beau rumbled in agreement while Jenny pressed her cheek to my other shoulder to give me comfort. My breath was shaky, as the reality dawned on me like the sun on a night sky when it was the crack of daylight.

My sister’s murder case wasn’t as open and shut as I’d initially thought, and it terrified me.

I woke up in a hospital, panting and spotting the angry scarlet bruises and cuts-

“Belle.” Beau’s voice lulled me out like it always did, and I held onto that sound- his deep, coaxing words that I couldn’t help but relax to - like a lifeline.

Like the only lifeline I had.

“Yeah, I’m with you, just…” I took a deep breath in, “last time I investigated my sister’s murder, I ended up on the tail end of a hit ‘n’ run.” I exhaled the breath, “Ain’t my finest moment.”

I scrolled through Instagram, since Olivia had taught me how to use it over a long and chaotic three hours, and the first thing I conveniently saw was my ex boyfriend Harry McIntyre with his pretty redhead girlfriend, the one who he cheated on me with. The lights of the bar illuminated my drink in purples, greens and blues, and I was beginning to enjoy the silence and tranquility of drinking alone.

“Isabelle.” Markham slid into the seat in front of me, making me roll my eyes oh-so-obviously in hope it would ward him off like salt does a ghost or demon.

It didn’t work. Just. My. Luck.

“Markham.” I replied coolly, sipping my beer as a thousand thoughts ran through my head about how I should stay calm and not deck this man in the face just to honour and respect my elder sister’s memory. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m not exactly going to be subtle or quiet about this, Isabelle.” He frowned, leaning forward slightly. “I am Olivia’s father, and you need to give custody over to me.”

“And I’m not gonna be subtle or quiet about this either, Markham.” I retorted, my mouth set in a thin line. “Lucy left me as Olivia’s legal guardian in her will. I plan to keep it that way. And, mind you, she’s your stepdaughter. I’d rather let Dean be her legal guardian.”

“I don’t trust Dean.”

“You don’t trust anyone!”

“Look, he just doesn’t come off as the good guy to me.” Mark persisted, but I took a sip of my beer and shook my head, scoffing. The audacity of this man.

“And you do?” I frowned, tilting my head in confusion and partial anger.

“I never said that.”

“Sounds like you did.”

“I just think Olivia would be safer with me.”

“Ok, Mark, let me make this very clear.” I smiled, but not the usual one. It was rather… menacing, because my eyes glinted dangerously. “I don’t want my night of peaceful drinkin’ to be ruined. You almost rained on a sunny day when you tried to bring this up at my niece’s birthday party. I’m not giving Olivia up. That girl means the world to me, and I ain’t keen on sending her to you. I do that when I’m on duty, but when I’m not, she’s with me. And it’ll stay that way, y’hear?”

Mark looked like he was about to argue, but my look silenced him. He shrank back, then got up and instantly went out the door. I laughed slightly, gesturing for a shot of tequila from the bartender. I’d had this conversation with Markham before, and it never, never ended in a mutual, calm agreement.

‘You… and me. Never forget that.’ I played that sentence over and over, listening to the quake in Lucy’s voice that only deepened the guilt in my gut to the point where it felt like the Mariana Trench. I remembered when the only expression on her face was pure happiness, and I could never understand why she was so optimistic, or even how she maintained it. All I knew was that I loved it. Too much, sometimes, to the point where Lucy was my everything and I was hers, in the best way possible.

It was always you and me.

It was, wasn’t it?

I looked down at my hands, the hands that could’ve stopped everything, stopped her suffering, the hands that were only a flight of stairs and a trip down the hall away. My ignorance at the time was crippling. The cruel thought that Lucy was safe and sound. It resulted in Olivia losing her mom and everything she knew, and having to live with her auntie.

Not that I’m not the best option, but if I’d picked up my metaphorical magnifying glass and looked closer, I’d see. See that things were wrong. Someone was after her, I didn’t know who, but one psycho was out to kill her, and succeeded.

The one of many times someone’s success felt like it twisted my heartstrings. The worst success.

I remembered the desperation that I had when I first investigated Lucy’s murder. The wild look I had in my eyes when I spotted myself in the mirror, and then one like a wounded animal when I wound up battered in a hospital. I didn’t want to go through that again. Not the false hope that I’d get somewhere. I didn’t need it, I didn’t want it, I couldn’t handle it. I’d possibly go feral if I found out the truth, but all the same, Lucy needed me. It was always me and her. When she was nineteen and I was eleven , not wanting to let her go because she was everything I had and more.

I hadn’t had that stable of a home life growing up. My dad cheated on my mom with his secretary and left her when I was three. Mom did the next best thing to dealing with the loss of her husband, which was filling herself brain high with any booze she could find. Lucy had taken the job of taking care of me, and she did a damn good job at it. Even got rewarded with an apple pie, white picket fence life to boot. I couldn’t have been happier for her, because she deserved every bit of happiness she got.

Even if I didn’t want to deal with the inevitable pain of investigating into my sister’s murder, I owed it to her. I needed to bring whoever killed her to justice.

I reached for my phone, dialling the first person that came to mind who’d help me with this case. I bit my lip, jogging my leg as I waited for him to pick up. ‘Hey, darlin’.’ I heard Beau’s voice from the other end, cherry as ever. ‘What can I do for ya?’

“Hey, Sheriff.” I breathed out, looking at the cassette player with stony eyes. “What d’you say to reopening a cold case?”

LMF TAGLIST:

@deans-spinster-witch @hobby27 @nancymcl

PREVIEW OF CHAPTER THREE

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen #beau #big sky #beau arlen x oc #beau arlen x you #jenny hoyt #jensen ackles #cassie dewell #denise brisbane #oc

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zepskies · 1 month

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Take Me Home - Part 6

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions…

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tinge of spice~

❤️ Series Masterlist

“Michael?! What are you doing here?” you asked.

He stood there with determination set across his face.

“We really need to talk.”

“We already did! Just leave me the hell alone,” you said. If your day hadn’t been long already, you knew it was about to be even longer.

Because just as you began to close the door, Michael slapped a hand on the center of it and pushed his way into your apartment.

You gasped and had to back up a couple of steps. “What are you doing?”

“Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave,” Michael said, staring down into your eyes. “That’s all I want.”

He pushed the door closed behind him, but it swung open, just a crack. In his heated state, he hadn’t even noticed. Neither did you. You stepped back further into the center of the living room and crossed your arms with an angry frown.

“I don’t care!” you snapped. Your patience quota for the day had run out a long time ago. “I just want to be done. Don’t you get that?”

“I know,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. He looked tired as hell; like he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. Now in the light of day and not a dusky bar, you could see the darkness under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks, though he was usually clean-shaven.

“I know and I’m sorry. I hurt you badly, and I never even told you why,” he said.

You tilted your head in contemplation. Because he was right. For all these months, you’d been so incensed at the bare facts of what he’d done, you’d never looked too deeply into the why.

The one time you’d asked him (while throwing his clothes and possessions out of your shared apartment at the time), he’d never given you a good answer.

“Okay, fine. Why did you do it then?” you asked. “Why did you betray me in the worst way possible, and still try to marry me?”

Michael sighed, his shoulders sinking. “The truth?”

That sparked your anger once more.

“No, keep lying to me like you’ve done from the very start!” you retorted.

“It wasn’t from the start!” he barked back. “It was around six months in, when we were dating. You and I had argued about something stupid. Kate came over to talk it out with me…just to talk. I swear to God. But we were drinking and…”

You let out a sigh, casting your gaze upwards. You really didn’t think you wanted to hear this after all. Michael earned your attention back though, when he took a step forward into your orbit.

“She got pregnant,” he admitted.

Your mouth fell open as your breath left your lungs. Your hands went to your temples in disbelief, and you made a sound of pure shock and distress.

“But she lost the baby early on,” he said. “She was devastated. I was too, but…I tried to help her through it. And it became this, this thing that wouldn’t let go of me. She wouldn’t let me go.”

You shook your head as furious tears welled up in your eyes. This was just too ridiculous and upsetting to compute. You didn’t even recognize the man that was standing in front of you anymore.

How could he blame Kate for what they’d done to you, and for clinging to him after losing her baby? How could he keep that from you, even when he asked you to marry him?

And how could he tell you all of this now and expect you to forgive him?

You didn’t have the words, but you held out a hand against him when he tried to take another step toward you.

“I know I fucked up. I fucked everything up. But you don’t have to come all the way here to run away,” he said. “Your parents miss you. Our friends…they all love you. And most of them rightly don’t want anything to do with me.”

He looked down then, with shame coloring his features.

Through your tears and the struggle of collecting yourself, you studied him closely with your arms crossed.

You’d known Michael for several years. Even considering the months you two had been apart, you knew he was the same—stubborn and hot-headed and full of audacity as ever. But…he also seemed genuinely remorseful. And desperate.

“If you give me one more chance, I promise I won’t mess it up again. I’ll be the man you deserve,” he said, taking your hand and uncrossing your arms in the process. “Believe it or not, I took a week off without pay, just to be here and get a chance to say this to you: I love you. I love you. And I know now that it’s meant to be you.”

You hesitated, and even made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They were a crisp dark blue, and yet, not the warm green you’d come to crave. You shook your head.

“I get it, Michael. I really do…but I can’t do this anymore,” you said. “It’s too damn much.”

You began to slip your hand out of his, but he held you a fraction tighter. He frowned.

“Are you seeing someone? Is it that guy from the other night? That cop?” Michael asked.

“Stop it,” you warned in anger. Beau was part of the reason your heart held pain, but it wasn’t the main reason you wanted to be done with Michael Hadley.

You tried to twist your wrist out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you, instead, trying to bring you closer.

“That’s not an answer,” he said in frustration. “Please, we can start over—”

“Let go!” you demanded. You yanked your hand out of his, and the rest came on instinct.

Your slap was loud against his cheek, and it made your hand sting too. You also pushed him hard in the chest. Michael was forced to step back while holding his reddening face. He looked back at you in disbelief.

You were breathing hard, shocked even at yourself. You’d never done that before in your life, but then again, never had you felt the panic of a man holding you against your will.

Michael’s brows furrowed. He called to you in a pleading tone, and he reached for your arm to placate you.

You quickly stepped back again on reflex. Your heel tripped on the tile floor and you gasped as you felt yourself careening back…onto the glass coffee table behind you.

After putting his investigation of Avery to bed for the night, Beau felt drained on all counts.

He punctuated the end of his day by calling to check up on Frank Davis, the local firehouse chief, and the father of one of the firefighters who was killed a few months back. Brett, one of the other victims, had carried the guilt of his best friend’s death to his grave.

Inevitably, that case brought up old memories for Beau. It also reminded him of you, and the situation with your firefighter ex-boyfriend. ‘Scuse me, ex-fiancé.

He also felt bad about how things ended with you in his office. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you.

As his daughter reminded him the other night, if he’d just been a bit more “open” and honest, maybe he could’ve saved his marriage.

Now with Michael likely trailing you, he didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t come to him, or even call him for that matter.

He seemed to be a bit of a hothead too, Beau thought. While he climbed into his truck and peeled out of the station, he debated stopping by to see you. Carla and Emily wouldn’t be getting over to his place for a couple of hours. That did give him some time.

And when it came down to it, was he a man, or was he a coward?

He knew it wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t try to make this right, in whatever small way.

So with that decision made in his mind, he drove over to your apartment complex. When he parked in one of the guest spots, he noticed another one occupied by a rental car, a gray sedan.

A small tingling of unease buzzed in the back of his mind. Beau approached your building, went inside, and started up the stairs. When he began to hear raised voices, a man and a woman who sounded too much like you, that gut feeling became a red hot alarm making his chest tighten.

He took the stairs nearly two at a time to get up to the second floor, where he saw that the door to your apartment unit was cracked open. He could hear glass shattering from inside.

He sprinted down the hall, and with a hand on his gun at his belt, he swung the door open.

The first thing he saw was Michael’s tall frame standing over you, frozen in shock. You were lying on your side amidst a shattered coffee table, fallen through the wooden frame. There was glass everywhere and underneath you, with magazines and pictures and other knickknacks strewn across the floor.

“What the hell’s going on here?!” Beau barked out.

Michael had turned at the sound of the door banging open. He met the sheriff with wide eyes. Beau’s expression set with a grim, angry frown. Though he willed himself to hold his temper in check, he immediately stepped forward and grabbed Michael’s shoulder, pushing him back and creating space between him and you.

“Step back,” the sheriff snapped.

“Beau,” you uttered in disbelief. You had tears in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Hey, darlin’,” said Beau. His voice was still rough, but more gentle for you. He knelt down at your side and carefully wrapped an arm around your waist to help lift you off the glass.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you raised one of your hands from the ground and blanched at the sight of a sizable piece of glass embedded in your palm. Beau’s lips flattened into a line.

He paused for a moment, turning his head back towards Michael.

“Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered, in a tone that boded no argument.

And Michael offered none. He stood there with furrowed brows. He even looked on at you in worry and frustration, knowing he couldn’t help you. He could only watch the sheriff make slow movements to help you out of the glass.

“Okay, slow for me,” Beau said. He spoke to you in low, calming tones whenever you made a sound of pain. He hooked an arm under your knees and lifted you out of the coffee table’s remains.

“Easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, helping you sit on the couch. You folded your legs off to the side, so you weren’t continuing to step in the glass on bare feet. Besides your right palm, your arm and right thigh had a few bleeding cuts of various degrees.

After making a short glance at a still concerned Michael, Beau turned to you.

“Did he push you?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t fucking push her!” Michael said.

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “But he did shove his way into my apartment.”

Beau’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Michael, and his gaze demanded an answer.

“I just—I just wanted to talk! Obviously I didn’t mean for this. Goddamn it,” Michael said, wiping a frustrated hand over his face. “Are you okay?”

You sighed. Beau set a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you want to press charges for trespassing?” Beau asked you.

“Oh, come on!” Michael exclaimed. Beau pointed at him with a hard stare.

“You pipe the hell down,” he said tersely. “And don’t you move a damn inch. Because if you do, so help me, it’ll just about make my day.”

He flashed the other man a look at the handcuffs (and the gun) on his belt.

Beau then returned his attention to you. You were attempting to pick the glass out of your hand. He stilled your movements with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hey, hey, wait on that for me, okay?” he asked. You looked up at him tiredly.

“It’s okay. Just let him go,” you said. You shifted your gaze to Michael. “Go back to Chicago, for real this time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael’s face became disheartened, but his eyes fell to your injured hand. Blood was streaming all the way down your forearm and dripping on the tile floor, along with the other smears of blood amongst glass.

He knew what he’d done. It made him even more sick with himself.

He turned to leave.

You watched him go, and you could no longer hold in your quiet tears. It wasn’t for him leaving. You just couldn’t believe it had all come to this.

Beau lightly squeezed your shoulder.

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. “Do me a favor and don’t move.”

“Okay,” you said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Beau tried to give you a reassuring smile. He gave into the desire to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your eyes, allowing him to brush your cheek with his fingers. You gave him a small smile back, despite your watery eyes.

Beau nodded and got up from the couch. He made swift strides out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind him. He then hastened down the hall and the stairs to catch up with Michael in the parking lot. Beau was hot on his trail to the rental car.

“Hey!” he called out.

Michael paused in his gait. He turned to face the sheriff, sporting a look of frustration.

“What?” he shot back.

“You better take her warning for the gift it is,” Beau said. He closed the distance between him and Michael, but resisted the urge to grab the other man and hurl him against the car.

“It’s time for you to go home,” Beau said. “I don’t want to see you in town. I don’t want to hear that you’re following her around or blowing up her phone. Do you hear me?”

Michael stood straighter, his jaw working in anger.

“Are you threatening me, Sheriff?” he asked.

“No. I’m thinking you’ll be smart enough to take some friendly advice,” Beau said, but his eyes were sharp. “If I have to threaten you, then we really will have a problem.”

Michael was younger, leaner, probably faster, but Beau edged him out by a couple of inches, on both height and build.

“Just let her get on with her life,” said Beau.

Fortunately, the standoff didn’t last long.

Michael’s anger soon relented, letting the guilt and shame shine through.

“Make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Tell her…that I’m sorry.”

Then he turned and walked away. Beau watched him get into his car and leave the premises.

It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine faded away that Beau released the clenched fists at his sides. He pivoted slowly on his heel and made his way back up to your apartment.

And your door was locked.

On one hand, he understood your fears. On the other hand, he’d asked you not to move from the couch.

“Who is it?” you asked, after he knocked.

“It’s just me, don’t worry,” Beau answered. You opened the door with your good hand and let him in, while holding up your bloody one with a bunch of crumpled gauze and medical tape hanging down your arm. It looked like you got the glass shard out, but you were struggling on the “wrapping it up” part.

“Oh, sweetheart, I asked you to wait for me,” he said. His brows furrowed as he took your wrist and elbow to steady you.

“Yeah, well, I got impatient,” you replied, but your attempt at a smile lightened him too.

Beau followed you to the kitchen sink and grasped your hand carefully. You’d already cleaned and sterilized the wound, so all he had to do was wrap it for you with some gauze and medical tape.

“This is kind of deep. You might wanna go to the ER,” he said. “I could take you.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s really not that deep,” you replied.

“You sure?” Beau asked, frowning at you. “How you doin’? You okay?”

Your face had been tight with pain while he tried to get the wrapping right with deft hands. At his questioning, you softened with a wry smile.

“I’m fine, more or less,” you said. “But…how…why were you here to begin with? How’d you know I was in trouble?”

Beau met your gaze for a moment. He was able to delay answering your question until he finished wrapping your hand. Afterwards, he sighed.

“I came to apologize,” he admitted. “But first, can I help you clean up around here? You just sit and relax. I’ll sweep up all this glass and mop the floor.”

You let out a long breath, your shoulders sinking. “Oh, Beau, don’t. You don’t have to do all that.”

“But see, I actually want to,” he said, giving you one of those grins you’ve come to know and expect. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Okay.”

A thorough sweep, vacuum, and mopping, then a couple of cracked open beers and an order of Chinese later (plus cleaning and patching up the rest of your cuts), Beau sat next to you at the dining table and officially made his apology.

“I’m sorry for how things turned out today at the precinct,” he said.

You shook your head. You’d had some time to think about all of that, and there were things you could’ve handled better too.

“Beau, look. I get it,” you said. “You’re dealing with a lot at work, with Carla and Emily too, and…really, we haven’t known each other all that long. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to open up on something that clearly still hurts you. Especially in the middle of your office.”

Beau let out a breath through his nose. He smiled and laid a gentle hand over your uninjured one, earning your widened gaze.

“You’re a sweetheart for that, but the truth is, you had a point today,” he said. “I’m a difficult man to know. It’s a flaw of mine that my ex-wife has pointed out several times. And even my daughter. Sometimes she looks at me like she can’t understand me.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You debated asking the question you wanted to ask. With his hand over yours, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, you were able to gather your courage.

“Does it have something to do with the reason you were in grief counseling?” you asked. “About your partner on the job?”

Beau nodded, his smile fading. “Yeah, it does. It has a lot to do with Randy.”

He took a moment, but you gave him the time he needed to find his words. Eventually he began to explain to you what happened in Houston.

How he’d been an upper-level officer dealing with a narcotics case. His partner, Randy Santos, had volunteered to infiltrate a drug cartel undercover. He stayed in the field for a few months longer than protocol, but he was so close, he’d claimed. One bust, and they could arrest the kingpin. The entire cartel would crumble.

Beau had backed him up with the Chief, against his better judgment. When the time came that Randy had helped arrange a drug deal, Beau was the one leading the squad on the bust.

“It went south so fast,” he said.

And he paused in his story for a moment. His eyes were far away, lost in memories.

You squeezed his hand over yours to bring him back. He met your gaze.

“When it got down to it, I had two choices,” he said. “Take out the boss, or take out the guy right in front of me, Dante. Now, Dante had his back turned. He couldn’t see me. Would’ve been fish in a barrel…but I went for the head of the snake. I shot the kingpin. I didn’t realize that Dante had already burned Randy. Knew he was a cop.”

Beau met your gaze then. “Dante shot Randy in the head, point blank.”

Your mouth fell open in disheartened shock. Beau took a long sip of his beer, wishing it was whiskey.

“I saw it all…in slow motion. Just like the movies,” he said. “I see it almost every night, without fail.”

You shook your head helplessly. “Beau. It’s not—”

“Not my fault?” Beau gave you a sad smile. “Oh, but it was. Nothing else to it. Bad leadership. bad police work. Bad friend.”

He continued to drink his beer.

“And I checked out,” he said. “My wife and daughter paid the price of my absence. Picking myself off the bottom of whatever crusty bar would have me that night. Refusing to go to counseling. Generally making an ass of myself.”

You covered his hand with your bandaged one. It got him to look at you and forget his beer for a moment.

“It was a hard call,” you said. “Anyone could’ve made the same one you did.”

“Yeah. And it got my best friend killed,” Beau said. “His wife, his ten-year-old boy, his parents. They’ll never be the same because I messed up. I can’t abide that.”

He sucked in an unsteady breath. “It still…sometimes I wake out of a dead sleep, and I see his face. I see the body they brought back.”

His eyes were red and shining. The emotion in his voice choked you up as well, making your eyes sting.

You raised a hand to touch his cheek, your thumb drifting tenderly across his chin.

“You’re not a difficult man to know,” you said. A tear found its way down your cheek, and then another. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you care. About your team, your family, everyone…even messy, accident-prone women.”

You gave him a smile at the last bit. He was able to give you one back, through his own unsteady breath.

“Especially those,” he agreed. Your hand moved down to his shoulder.

“And you also like to eat. A lot,” you quipped. “I think you’ve got about three stomachs.”

“Probably four, realistically,” he said with a tearful laugh. He wiped at his face with both hands. You waited for him to meet your gaze again before you continued.

“You’re also an old-fashioned cowboy,” you said, with a brighter smile. Your hand slid down, this time to his chest, over his heart. “But you’re a good man, Beau. That, I knew from the very beginning.”

Beau clasped your hand where it lay on his chest, almost on reflex. He was sure you could feel his heart tripping up, double timing. He reached out for your cheek, guiding your face up to his. He leaned over slowly, giving you time to say no, whether with words or with actions.

But your eyes, though still a bit shiny from tears, were nothing but beautifully welcoming. So he took a shot. He began to cross the distance between your lips and his.

And his phone buzzed on the table, making both of you jolt.

It was just a text message. Frowning, Beau looked over and read the preview. When he saw Emily’s name, he cursed under his breath. He reached for his phone and opened up the message.

Hey, where are you?

“Shit,” he said. “Emily’s been staying with me all week and Carla’s joining us tonight, to be safe. They’re there already, asking where I am.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed beyond measure, but you nodded.

“Then you should go,” you said.

You squeezed his hand before you released him. Beau wasn’t happy about it either, but he did the same. He helped you clean up the dining table and gathered up his wallet and keys. You walked him over to the front door, where Beau debated how he should leave this.

The door was open, literally and figuratively as you leaned against its frame. You couldn’t hide your unease. You didn’t know where this left the two of you either.

Beau sighed and propped a curled finger under your chin, earning your gaze.

“I need to settle some things. After…” he trailed. You nodded at what he was trying to say.

“When Carla and Emily have stability again, we can talk,” you finished for him. “I’ll be here.”

He looked at you in wonder.

“You’ll really wait for that?” he asked. His brows creased, and he truly marveled at your patience with him. “You know you don’t have to.”

A smile curved your lips. “Something tells me you’re worth waiting for, Sheriff Arlen.”

Beau grinned at you fondly. He cupped the side of your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, thank God for that,” he said. ��Really, thank you…”

Lord help him, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally crossed the distance and kissed you.

Your chest rose with your breath, but when your eyes fell shut, you couldn’t help but melt against him. You gripped the front of his buttoned-down shirt for stability while his fingers tangled in your hair. It all grew with heat when he tilted his head, tasting you deeper with each new kiss.

He pressed you into the doorframe, trapping your body with his. You held onto him like a lifeline.

While his hands drifted down your back and rested on your hips, bunching the material of your pretty yellow sundress, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. He felt your every curve, soft breasts and thighs and sweet sighs.

He released a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat. His lips veered away from yours to burn a slow trail down to your neck. He was satisfied by the way you moaned and struggled to catch your breath at his ministrations.

Your fingers wound up sweeping through his hair. It both soothed and aroused him, somehow. But Beau knew if he didn’t stop here, he wouldn’t be able to again.

He laid one last kiss under your ear that hinted with teeth, making you shudder. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. You two breathed together for a moment, just existing here, hearts racing.

“I gotta go,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You nodded, biting your lip. He pulled back further and thumbed at your lower lip.

“Don’t do that, or I just might have to go back on my word,” he said, giving you a smirk.

You smiled in amusement. “Promise?”

Beau chuckled. He stole one more heated kiss before he withdrew from you, his hand lingering on your cheek. Heaving a sigh, you turned him around by his broad shoulders and reluctantly sent him on his way.

Halfway down the hall, he slowed to look back at you. Seeing you leaning against your door, still catching your breath, all hot and bothered…it nearly broke his resolve.

“Nope,” he muttered.

He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking until he hit the stairwell for the umpteenth time today.

He would stop three more times on the way to his car before he actually left your building.

AN: 😘 So, how'd you like the official "end" of Michael Hadley? And finally, finally, we get to a first kiss. In Part 7, we enter some even deeper waters...

Next Time:

“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve kinda got a question for you.”

“Kinda?” you echoed with a smile, but you pat her on the knee. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

Emily looked a little unsure. It had you giving her your undivided attention.

“It’s about my dad,” she began. Your smile slowly fell, but now you were really listening.

“Okay,” you nodded.

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the lights in the entire office went out.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 7

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