Billionaire Lumberjack, page 21
“You can't think like that.”
“Can't I? How am I supposed to think, Brooke? The man was waiting for us outside because he knew I would be there. I always went. He ambushed us and unloaded an entire magazine into us. My father died instantly, which was a blessing. My mother…”
I press my hand against his chest and feel his heart racing at having to relive the memory.
“She wasn't so lucky. Somehow, I managed to crawl over to her despite being shot three times myself. I pulled her into my arms and held her for what felt like hours before an ambulance arrived when, really, it was only a handful of minutes. But it was too late. She was dead, too.”
“But you survived.”
Beau drops his gaze to meet mine again, a single tear trailing down his cheek. “I wish I hadn't.”
“Is that why you went up there? So, you could just wither away and die, choking on your own guilt?”
He clenches his teeth together, his jaw tightening. “As soon as I got to the hospital, I knew I knew I didn't want to keep living after what had happened. I couldn't imagine my life without them. I was very close with them, especially my mother, and when they put me under to operate, I prayed to not wake up.”
I press my hand harder over his heart, wanting so badly to tell him I’ve been there and felt the same things, but I haven’t experienced the kind of loss he has, not like that. Not in such a violent way. But I do know guilt, and I can see now that he’s been drowning in it for years.
He swallows thickly and shakes his head. “But then I did.” His shoulders rise and fall casually, as if the fact that he survived means nothing to him. “And I ordered my best friend, Nate, to get me out of that fucking hospital and to make sure no one leaked any of my medical information. Anyone who operated on me or who worked for the hospital was required to sign an NDA and were threatened if they told anyone, anything, we’d come after them, on top of any HIPPA issues. The attorney for the company released a statement that confirmed the death of my parents and left what happened to me up in the air, saying that my injuries were life-threatening and they weren't sure if I was going to make it.”
Tears sting my eyes, and before I can stop them, they fall. Beau watches them with great interest and uses his thumbs to brush them away.
“It wasn't a lie. Even after the doctors repaired the damage the bullets had done, I had lost my will to go on. I wanted to die, and then the man who shot my parents committed suicide in his jail cell. I never got to see him pay for his crimes, and I spent weeks recuperating at a friend's house and realized God wasn't going to answer my prayer. Right then and there, I vowed to never go back to that life of excess, with everything being handed to me on a silver spoon. I didn't want everything that Mother and Father worked so hard to give me. I just wanted to be left alone in my misery.”
“So, you went to the cabin?”
“The Beaumonts own that entire mountain, Brooke. We’ve been logging it for generations. That building you drove past on your way up the mountain is one of our old locations. I shut it down when I moved up there because I didn't want there to be any chance of anyone seeing me and recognizing me. And even though I wasn't strong enough, even though there was no way I should have been doing it, I went up there alone and I built that place by fucking hand. I did it all the way my father's ancestors did when they came out west, with the help of a few men from town who knew better than to ask questions. I worked for everything I had up there and tried very hard not to give myself the luxuries that I abused so badly down here and took for granted.”
“Except for the good booze…”
The corner of his lips twitches up despite the heaviness of the topic. “I allowed myself a few indulgences. That happens to be one of them. And I had to stay connected to the world—at least, somewhat—because technically, I'm the CEO of the company, even though the board runs it. In ten years, those board members are basically the only people who have true confirmation that I'm still alive. Aside from Sheriff Roberts who only found out because he got suspicious of me up there when I was building my place, and I had to tell him so that he could keep an eye out in case any media showed up.”
“So, that's why there's been so much speculation about whether you're actually dead or not. People think the company would keep up pretenses if you had died?”
He nods and glances toward the windows. “Apparently. I am the last Beaumont, and even though we're a publicly traded company, with a board of directors now, and a number of people who could step up to my position, the stock prices would tank if my death was confirmed. I think that's what makes everyone so suspicious. And now, we have a new environmental law trying to get passed that could affect some of our business.” He signs and returns his focus to me. “They've been wanting me to come out to address it. But I've refused.”
“But you came out for me. You showed up in open court for me.”
His calloused thumb brushes over my cheek. “I did, Brooke.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don't have a fucking clue.”
He presses his lips to mine in a kiss filled with a hundred promises he can’t make. Ones I can’t return. But I still allow myself to get lost in the possibility of Beau, the fantasy that things will turn out okay, and that one day, we might be back on that mountain again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
BEAU
Chaos. That's what coming back has meant. Utter, complete, total, unending chaos.
Between the media camped out in front of the condo building and the way they've latched on to the charges against Brooke as much as the story about my miraculous return from the maybe dead, the last week has been a nauseating whirlwind. And on top of all that, I've had to deal with Nate and the demands from the board that I come down to headquarters to address the on-going issues.
I stare out the window and down at the media vans occupying the street as far as I can see, phone pressed to my ear, waiting for Nate’s response to yet another refusal on my part.
“You need to come.”
Tightening my hand around the cell, I grit my teeth to keep from lashing out at Nate. It isn’t his fault the board is being so damn demanding.
“They cut you some slack before because you hadn't left the damn cabin in a decade. But now that you've publicly announced your return and done so to support an accused murderer, we can't make that excuse anymore. They want to see you immediately. They've scheduled a board meeting for tomorrow morning.”
“I'm not coming, Nate. I have other matters to deal with at the moment.”
He chuckles low. “Like the blond Black Widow you're sleeping with?”
If anyone else but Nate had said that, it probably would have earned them a punch in the gut and face, but my lips curl up into an almost smile because he knows she's far from that.
After everything I've told him, after explaining what happened between us at the cabin and in the time since I came back to Seattle, he truly understands how important she’s become to me.
“How’s she doing, anyway?”
I run a hand over my freshly shaven face, the feeling of the smooth, exposed skin so foreign that I jerk my hand back. “I guess she's as okay as she can be when she's cooped up in here, just waiting for her fate to be determined.”
The only thing that has even remotely kept her or me sane has been falling into each other’s arms at night and spending our days catching up on all the mindless television I’ve missed out on over the years.
“What does Allen have to say about his negotiations with the DA?”
“I talked to him this morning. He was on his way to a meeting with the DA to discuss her case.”
It’s what we’ve been waiting for. He and his team have been working non-stop for a week, conducting interviews, collecting their own evidence, doing everything they could to build a case to help Brooke.
“Allen said he had a lot of confidence in the potential that this meeting would result in a dismissal. Really, between her medical records, the affidavits our private investigator got from witnesses who had seen her injuries or witnessed their arguments and him get violent with her, he doesn't think the prosecutor is going to want to risk embarrassment in front of a jury or the media by prosecuting a battered woman, especially one romantically involved with a Beaumont.”
“That's good, isn't it?”
I glance over my shoulder toward the stairs to ensure Brooke isn't within earshot. “Of course it is, but it's also very hard to know this information is going to likely end up becoming public. The DA is going to have to justify his dismissal, and with the media attention this has already had, he is going to want to save face to use this to show how compassionate the District Attorney’s office is toward true crime victims.”
Nate releases a sigh. “Yeah, I can see that. It's better than the alternative, though.”
“I'm not so sure either of us would survive a trial.”
“Well, I'm not so sure you're going to survive as CEO if you don't show up at this meeting tomorrow, sir.”
When Nate slips into “sir” mode with me, it means he’s no longer speaking to me as a friend but as an employee. It means he’s being dead serious.
I growl and bang my fist against the glass. “You tell the board that they waited for ten years so they can wait a few more days.”
“You know I'll do my best.”
“You always do.”
That familiar guilt settles in my chest, and I look out at the water—one of the few things I actually missed about this place when I was up the mountain.
“Hey, Nate. What happened when I left…I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you did for me. What you tried to do for me. I'm sorry if I didn't show you that back then.”
“I understood, Beau. I loved them, too. You know that.”
“I know.”
Which is what made it all that much harder.
Seeing Nate’s own anguish over Mom and Dad’s death only drove me deeper into blaming myself and wanting a way to escape it all. They were like second parents to him and it was my actions that got them killed.
“Do you love her?”
Shit.
It's the question that's weighed heavily on my mind since the first time she touched me in the cabin, where the answer has only become more convoluted and twisted as time has gone on and harder to answer.
“I care a lot about her.”
“Really? That's all you're gonna say?”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I've known you a long time, and I've spent years trying to get you to leave that damn cabin. And you did it within two days for that woman. If you don't think you love her, you're fooling herself.”
Hell…
Nate chuckles again and sighs. “I'll talk to the board for you tomorrow. You better pray you still have a job.”
“My prayers are tied up with other things at the moment.”
And it’s the first time I’ve spoken to the supposed big man upstairs since Mom and Dad’s death. After He didn’t answer my prayer to take me from all the pain I was in, I gave up on Him as much as I did myself. Just another thing Mom and Dad would have been horrified to learn about how I’ve acted since they’ve been gone.
“Let me know what happens with the DA.”
“I will.”
I end the call and slip my phone back in my pocket, then turn to find Brooke standing at the bottom of the stairs, her hands twisting in front of her nervously.
“Was that Allen?”
“No. Nate.”
“Oh…”
She approaches me slowly, almost cautiously, the same way we've been dancing around each other for days. The only place we seem to not have a problem communicating is the bedroom, holding each other so neither of our nightmares will return while we share the same one—that she might actually get convicted for this.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her to me. She buries her face against my chest, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“The meeting should be over soon. Then, we'll hear something.”
She drags her head back and looks up at me, familiar tears pooling in her eyes. “What if it's bad news? What if the DA isn't going to dismiss the charges?”
I cup her cheek and tilt her face up toward mine even more. “Then we fight it with everything I fucking have. We get the best experts in the fucking world. We track down every person who ever knew Tommy since his birth to say what a violent asshole he was. We put on the best defense money can buy. I have plenty of it, but none of it means anything if I don't have you.”
BROOKE
Staring up into his dark eyes, I know the anger in his tone isn't directed at me. That first night here, when I told him everything, when I finally came clean and bared my soul to him, I thought it was. I thought he was mad I could have been so weak and stupid, but now, I realize it’s because I hid the truth from him, especially that last night before they came for me.
I had every opportunity to come clean, to tell him what was happening, to explain why I was really up that mountain, to ask for his help and support, and I just couldn’t do it. Every time I tried, the words froze on my lips, and instead of having that horrible conversation with him, I lost myself in him again.
That created a wound, a rift between us that sometimes feels bigger than the Grand Canyon, one I’m terrified we will never fully cross. But at least I know he doesn't blame me for this. He believes in me completely and will do anything to help me.
“No one's ever done anything like this for me before, Beau. I don't know how to thank you.”
He presses a kiss to my lips that's tender and soft and all-too-brief. “I'm not about to live my life without you, Brooke. We may have only had a week together in that cabin, but that week showed me something extraordinary.”
“What's that?”
“That I can still love someone. That taking the risk of opening up and exposing all my pain to someone else, laying all my weaknesses on the table, only invites the opportunity to heal and find something better. That I don't have to hide in my own grief and wallow in it alone anymore.”
“What are you saying, Beau? You don't want to go back to the cabin?”
His chuckle makes his chest vibrate against mine. “Of course, I do. This place”—he waves a hand around the condo—“it's so lifeless—so not me anymore. The cabin is where I belong. But it doesn't mean I have to cut myself off from the world so much. Doesn't mean that I have to cut you out of my life. I love you, Brooke, and when all this is over, I want you to come back with me to that cabin that never had any life in it before you came. I spent all my time building a world where I didn't have to deal with anything or anyone and I could work out my frustrations by chopping down tree after tree after tree, where an ax was my goddamn best friend and the only conversations I had were with goats and chickens. How fucked up is that?”
I chuckle slightly but his words, the ones he said so casually tossed in there, make my chest tighten. “And you love me?”
His eyes warm, and he lowers his forehead to mine. “Do you really think I would have come down here and done all this if I didn't?”
“I don't know. I thought maybe you thought maybe you felt obligated for some reason after what we said that night. I saw how you reacted when the sheriff showed up.”
“I was hurt that day when the sheriff arrived. Hurt that you didn't tell me the truth from the beginning. I could have protected you. I would have made sure things were done right from the beginning. And it would have saved both of us a lot of pain.” He pulls back and kisses me softly. “But I also understand why you did it. You fled up into those mountains for the same reason I did, and then, we found each other, almost like it was fate.”
“You believe in fate?”
He shrugs slightly. “Not necessarily, but I believe in what we have. If you do…”
“Oh, God, Beau. Of course, I do.” My tears fall now in earnest. “You saved me from more than just that damn storm. You showed me kindness I didn't know still existed in the world; that I had forgotten about after all the years I spent with Tommy. You understood me in a way no one else ever has. I want to go back up to the cabin with you. There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”
The shrill ring of his phone in his pocket jerks him back from me—the sound ominous when we’ve been waiting for it for so long.
“I should get that it. It could be Allen.”
I nod and step back from him slightly, but he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close again as he tugs his phone from his pocket and answers. “Hey, Allen. I'm going to put you on speaker with Brooke.”
He presses the speakerphone button and a soft static sound fills the condo. I hold my breath and wait for my fate to be told to me.
“I had a long meeting with the DA. I laid out everything our private investigator found—those old videos from the apartment complex that showed several of the older assaults or the immediate aftermath, the affidavits of the neighbors who heard arguments and violence, her medical records, and—”
Beau growls. “Get to the fucking point, Allen.”
“And the DA has agreed to dismiss the charges without prejudice. He doesn’t want to go up against a defense paid for by a Beaumont where we would paint him as attacking the victim of abuse by pursuing the charges.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Wh-what what does that mean?”
“It means you're free, but if they ever get any additional evidence that supports their original theory or that contradicts anything that we've suggested, he still has a right to reissue the charges. I don't think that'll happen though because there's nothing out there for him to find, right?”
“No, of course not. So, it's really over, then?”
“It's really over.”
Beau presses a kiss to my temple. “Thank you, Allen.”
“You owe me one.”
“I owe you more than one.” Beau ends the call, drops his phone back into his pocket, and drags my lips to his for a heated, heavy kiss, while pressing his hard body against mine.
