BEAU

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I shove my fists through my hair, nearly pulling out the grown in strands. How did I let this happen? We'd been careful - hadn't we? My brain rushes to recall every time I'd had sex with Emma, but instantly the ache in my chest reminds me that it's a bad idea.

My cuticles are bloody as my longing for nail polish grows even more. Too many thoughts buzz around my head, making it impossible to concentrate on anything but the frenzied way my lungs are struggling for air. It feels like the little room is a hundred degrees and my skin is clammy.

"Beau?" Dr. Williams steady voice reaches me somehow, pulling my gaze and my focus onto his face - the picture of calm. "Tell me what's going on."

History has a way of repeating itself.

I startle in the leather armchair of the counseling room, my father's voice as clear in my mind as if he were speaking just beside me. Too shaken to speak, I hand Emma's letter over to Dex, the page wobbling in my fingers.

I stare at him intently as he reads the words that ripped the ground from under me just moments ago, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. A baby? Me - a dad? I scoff to myself, furiously shaking my head and pulling at the skin on my thumb.

"Well." Dex folds the sheet in half and places it on the table between us. "Not to be cliché, Beau, but how do you feel about that?" His eyes trail down to my hands, the blood trickling down my finger.

Pissed off? Overwhelmed? In shock? "Dizzy," I mutter, setting my head into my hands. The scorching heat at the back of my throat is flamed by this new information and my mouth is dry. Scared.

"A pregnancy can be overwhelming in any situation,"  Dex settles into his chair, propping his glasses on his nose and assuming his shrink position.

"What about this situation, Dex?" I snap, glaring at him even though I'm not sure why. Memories from somewhere deep threaten to spill over into the forefront of my mind - where I'll have to actually face them, and I push back against them stubbornly. "What words would you use to describe Emma and I getting pregnant, hm? A shit show? A disaster? Fucking impossible?"

Dr. Williams sighs, letting me have my tantrum, before he purses his lips at me. "Some would call it a blessing."

"A fucking idiot would, that's who." I growl, shoving from the couch to pace behind it, too much adrenaline running through my veins. Fire licks up the back of my throat ruthlessly and I clench my fists, tempted to shove one through the thin wall. Emma, full with my child, laughs in my mind, pregnant Zoey beside her, leaning her head on Beck's shoulder. The image almost makes me gag.

"Beau, is something else the matter? I know this wasn't planned and there's certainly a lot to think about, but you seem... very unsettled." Dex leans forward in his chair, eyes trained on me as I stomp back and forth in the small room.

"Emma is fucking pregnant!" Without realizing it, I'm shouting, probably loud enough so that anyone in the hall can hear. "And I can't even be around her anymore because it's not healthy for either of us. How am I going to raise a fucking kid with her? Or at all?" I exhale and sink to the floor, my back against the door of the room. "I'm a mess, Dex."

"You're almost three months sober, Beau. That's much better than where you were three months ago. Give yourself some credit and maybe get real with yourself. This baby, if you guys choose to have it, deserves you to have yourself together." Dr. Williams keeps his tone even. "But so do you."

I absorb the words with closed eyes as I lean my head against the door, memories and thoughts and worries all blurring together in my brain.

"How the hell am I gonna be a dad?" I groan, wondering what sick kind of joke the universe thinks this is. You're the guy that ruins everything he touches? Here - here's a fucking kid.

Dex surprises me by chuckling. "I don't think anyone really knows until they do it. But remember,"

"Keep moving forward." I repeat the mantra with him, feeling only slightly less uneasy than I did before.

***

The rehab center seems less like a prison now that I'm finally leaving. Melanie, with her bible and rosary beads, is less annoying this morning. Parker is oddly quiet today, mad at me, I think, but even that doesn't damper my good spirits.

Well, good-ish. In here, it's easy to be in control. There's nothing to tempt me, nothing to throw me off track. Out there is a whole other story. I squint at the bright light coming through the window, knowing there's a mess waiting for me on the other side of all this.

I take a large bite of oatmeal, my final breakfast here, and throw the rest in the trash on my way to my last group therapy session. Dex had been on me the entire time about participating more in the group setting, but for the most part, I've been hesitant. So far letting people in hasn't gotten me very far, but as I'm leaving today...

"Beau, would you like to share?" Callie smiles warmly from the front of the room and I stand without pressure from Parker this time. Beside me, he crosses his arms over his chest, a crease formed between his brows.

"Three months sober." I mutter, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I keep my eyes on the floor - performing never made me nervous, but standing up in front of a group of people to talk about my problem? It never fails to make my skin crawl. "The last time I was here I thought I'd be fine, never have to be in a place like this again. This time I guess I'm smarter because I'm really nervous to go out there again." I trail off, feeling patient eyes on me the entire time. "But I got some news the other day and now there's someone else out there depending on me. So I'm thankful for everyone here," I gesture to the nurses and therapists, and chuckle humorlessly. "But I don't plan on seeing you guys again."

Everyone in the room claps, even Parker. His are slow and deliberate, but as I roll my eyes at the applause, his grin grows wider. I take my seat beside him again, feeling the color in my cheeks as someone else stands to speak.

"Who's gonna tell Mel to shut the hell up with her bible crap now?" Parker mumbles, keeping his eyes cast forward.

"You, I guess." I murmur in response. "Or you could just let her have it." I shrug, watching Melanie wipe a tear from her eye as a new woman shares her story. Parker shoots me a dirty look before silently shaking his head.

After a couple of other people speak, Callie wraps up the session and most of us stand to leave, but I notice Parker lingering in his chair.

"You okay?" I ask, running a hand through my hair and wishing for a hair-tie.

"This place is gonna suck way more with you gone. He shrugs. "But I don't plan on staying here much longer."

"Good." I grab his shoulder and he looks up at me in shock. "When you get out, come see me. We'll finish those guitar lessons, yeah?"

Parker finally smiles and nods, before losing himself in thought again. With that, I turn to pack up my room and leave, but his nosiness stops me in my tracks. "That letter you got?" I turn to face him and nod. "Emma - she's your girl?" I hesitate but nod again, deciding it's the simplest answer. "She's pregnant?" Parker concludes, brows knitted together.

Again, I nod wordlessly, the word sending alarm bells ringing in my head and stomach. Guilt gnaws at my insides.

"Damn," He flips his hair out of his eyes. "Good luck, man."

I chuckle again without humor. "See ya around, kid."

The front desk returned a bag of my things before I left: my phone, dead, and my phone charger, my car keys, and a clean change of clothes. I'd slipped into the clothes before leaving and quickly made my way to the parking garage reserved for self-check-ins.

Sitting in my old mustang, I put my phone on the charger and look around at the contents scattered around my car. Headphones and trash, band t-shirts that smell dirty, a pair of boots and a crushed box of hair dye. Rocco must've cleaned it of any alcohol before dropping it off. Nice.

My screen comes to life, chirping with dozens of missed notifications. Emails from Rocco - payment information for the center, contractual things related to the cancelled tour, and even a couple to simply check in on my well-being. Unusual for him.

Next is a handful of voicemails. I play the first, hearing Rocco's gruff voice explaining how he emailed me some important stuff. I roll my eyes at him but keep going. The next is Rey, sounding somber, her raspy voice easily on the edge of tears.

"I'm so sorry, Beau. Rocco told me all about the center - I was admitted to a different one and I'm out now but I just need to apologize-"

I let out a deep sigh after hearing that she's okay. Rey - a nuisance that probably ended my tour, career, and relationship with one drunken kiss. It wasn't her lips that made me lean in, but the dark temptation of feeling nothing at all, starting with the sweet, numbing taste of vodka on her tongue. The liquor hit me almost instantly and when I couldn't make things better with Emma, I found the bar, its comforts unfailing, no matter how stupid.

But I still care about her - that's why we got to that point in the first place. If nothing else, I'm glad to know that she's all right.

The next voicemail is from a number I don't recognize. I hit play on the speakerphone and pull out of the garage, the breeze tousling my damp hair around my face.

"Hey Beau. It's Zoey."

I nearly stomp on the brakes turning into a fast food drive thru. The person behind me hits their horn and I resist the urge to flip them off before pulling through and ordering a large, black coffee, Zoey's high voice fading in the sound of traffic.

Replaying the message, I listen more intently the second time. "Hey Beau. It's Zoey. Look, Beck doesn't know I'm calling, but we really need to talk. Give me a call."

Why is Zoey calling me? Her glowing, pregnant image burns in my mind, Beck's arm around her waist making me clench the wheel tighter in my hands.

I delete the message and continue going through my notifications, parked in the lot of the old McDonalds. My heart sinks but I try to ignore the feeling, pretending I wasn't hoping for a notification from Emma. Of course there won't be any.

Eyeing the letter that I'd carefully laid out in my passenger seat, I hover my thumb over her contact photo before finally deciding against the phone call.

"How about a road trip?" I mutter to myself, taking a long chug of my coffee and turning back onto the highway.

Seeing Emma might be hard - fuck, it might be nearly impossible, but some things just have to be done in person.

Thanks for reading loves! Beau on his way to talk to Emma - Awh. ❤️
Did Beau overreact / react just right / or is there something more?
Why is Zoey calling?
Predictions for this book? Lemme know in the comments!

Next question: (thanks to snooopy_gal )
Lots of questions so I'll space them out!

What inspired you to write this book?

I've always been a big fan of bad boy type romances, and honestly I've been known to fan girl myself. But I've always been curious about the hardships of fame and how that would impact a relationship - it seemed like a good story to tell! I wanted it to be a bit deeper, so I made Beau a really tortured character and gave Emma a backstory that showed how strong she is. They're kind of an opposites attract couple and I love that, I love seeing how Beau brings out Emma's passion and Emma brings out the softness we rarely seem from Beau.
But I've always loved to write - I just never posted anything! I read After and was so interested in how it got started on Wattpad, so I finally decided, hey why not!