Snared(51)

“Are we allowed to take him out of the home for the day?”

I leaned over and kissed him. “Beau, you never cease to amaze me. Yes, I’m allowed to take him out for the day. I’ll have to see if I have any court dates tomorrow or any pressing meetings. But if I don’t, or I can move anything, I would love nothing more than to do that.”

“When I was a kid, I always wanted to drive go-karts. I’ve never done that before.”

He had never driven a go-kart before? “I’m sure that Robbie would love to do that. Beau, I have a question to ask you.” I knew it made him anxious when I said that, but I had to find out. “What . . . what’s going to happen with us?”

He stared at me for so long I wondered if he heard me. “I-I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.” He moved his hands back and forth between us.

I nodded. “I live in Orlando. You don’t. You travel a lot for your job. I guess my question is—do you want to figure out how to make this work?”

His throat worked, but his eyes never left mine. “I do, April. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But I don’t have any fucking idea how to do that. It terrifies me.”

I was shocked at not only his honesty but how effortless it seemed when he said it to me. Maybe we had broken down some walls with each other. I reached over and laced his fingers with mine. “It doesn’t have to terrify you. There’s just a few things we have to figure out.”

“How about we figure something else out right now.” He pulled me into his lap.

I thought we had more than figured that out, but there was no way in hell I was going to deny him.



I opened the grand door to my parents’ house, stepping on the cool marble floor. My shoes echoed through the empty room as I made my way farther into the house.

“Mom?” I knew they were here; it was a rare day off for my dad. Even after almost thirty years of marriage, my parents were the epitome of married love. My mom dropped everything when my dad wasn’t working, and they always spent the day together. I hoped to be the same way with my husband someday. My thoughts immediately went to Beau, but I pushed them away. I couldn’t think like that yet.

“Back here, sweetie!” I followed the voice to the back patio, where my dad was grilling chicken while my mom relaxed in a lounge chair next to him. When I walked through the open doorway, my mom immediately stood up and hugged me.

“It’s so great to see you,” she said. “You’re looking beautiful as always. How’d you get away from work today?”

“I’m on my way to one of the group homes.” I left out the part about Beau waiting at my house for me. I hadn’t thought he’d be ready to visit my parents with me just yet. Plus, I wanted their advice. “I’m going to pick up one of the kids for the day.”

My dad leaned over and kissed my cheek. His eyes sparkled as he smiled at me. “I’m proud of you, April.” There was a time when I wasn’t sure he was going to be proud of me. When I’d told him I wasn’t continuing medical school because I had a different dream for my career, he’d been disappointed. As much as I knew he wanted me to follow in his footsteps, he never let it affect our relationship.

“Do you want a drink, honey? Dad’s about got lunch ready if you want to stay.”

“I’ll take tea. I’m here to ask some advice.”

My mom stopped pouring, frozen as she searched my face to try to figure out what I wanted to know. My dad finished the chicken and turned the grill off. He set the plate on the table in the middle of us.

“We’re listening,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded, sipping my tea so I could give myself a moment to collect my thoughts. Not that I hadn’t been thinking about it ever since Beau and I had agreed to see each other—or whatever we were doing.

“Do you remember Beau?”

My mom tapped her finger against her lips as she scoured her memory. My dad nodded. He was great with names and people. “The drummer from Jaded Regret, right?”

“Ah, yes! I knew that name sounded familiar.” My mom laughed at herself. “He seemed like a nice guy, although he was very quiet. Sure can play the drums, though.”

I searched their faces for any sign of distaste or disapproval of the way he looked or who he was. I saw nothing. “Yes. That’s him.”

“What about him, dear?” My mom took a piece of chicken and put it on my dad’s plate, then one on mine before getting herself one. My stomach was in knots, so I didn’t touch my food.

My dad watched me, his gaze unrelenting. He knew how to read me well. “Well, we . . . uh . . . we’ve been talking since the fundraiser.”