BEAU

"Your fiancé would appreciate if you spent some time with your son," Heather, Zoey's mother who still looks as uptight as ever, thrusts baby Jack into Becks clumsy hands.

I smirk at how uncomfortable he looks, holding the kid like he would a football back in school.

Eyeing me up and down, Heather grumbles at me next. "Beau. It's been a long time."

I raise a brow and bite my tongue. It's a family party: I can keep the sarcasm to a minimum for the sake of the party. Peering over at Emma, still seated across from Zoey, I'm reminded who the effort is really for.

"It's interesting how things turn out, isn't?" Heather continues anyways, a button-pusher through and through.

My lip lifts at one corner. "Interesting," A little sarcasm won't hurt, "Sure. If you say so."

She lets out an unimpressed humph before walking away. Watching her back, I'm grateful things turned out how they did. If she never sent Zoey away, if my own father hadn't all but disowned me, I wouldn't be with Emma, expecting our child.

Maybe it is interesting.

"Man, I hate her." Beck groans, shaking his head. Unable to hold it back, I let out a laugh at the pure displeasure in his voice as he continues. "It's good she lives out of state, I don't have to see her much."

"Can't imagine Heather not fighting to see the little guy." I watch the baby chewing his own fingers. Such a strange little person.

"Oh, Zoey takes him to her mom's house a lot. Stays there when I'm busy at work. Heather helps take care of him, you know, so Zoey can get some sleep, shower." Beck adjusts the baby in his arms, not meeting my eyes, and I crinkle my brows.

Hm. Before I can think too much on how much of a shit bag my brother is, or how I won't be letting Emma do everything herself, something catches my eye across the street.

One second I was joking with Beck about Zoey's mother, again giving in to the urge to squeeze baby Jack's chubby leg, and the next...

My blood runs cold and I become immobile, like an angry statue. My fists clench tightly until my knuckles are sore from the pressure, my teeth grinding so hard together I can hear it in my ears.

Too many emotions pass through me, every technique Dr. Dex has shown me out the window now that I'm finally faced with who I hate most in the world.

I look up in time to catch the real Jack, where Beck's child got his name, crossing the street to the park.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" I seethe, my glare focusing in on Beck's stupid, dumbfounded face.

"I don't know, Beau. I didn't ask him to come, swear." Beck shifts the baby awkwardly just as he starts to cry, and I turn my attention back to the man approaching us.

When he finds me, our eyes lock and fire rages at the back of my throat. Disgust. Revulsion.

"Well look what the cat dragged in," Adult Jack smirks arrogantly. "Prodigal son returned to shoot the shit with us little people."

Hatred.

I say nothing, the fury coursing through me so fast it makes my hands shake. The last time I saw him was the day after we fought and he stormed into my room telling me to get it together or leave. Years of time since then have done nothing to dull the rage I feel when I look at him.

I want to leave, to grab Emma and go home. To not start a scene, a fight. To not give him the satisfaction.

But all I can do is stand and stare at him.

He looks the same, but older and fatter. Skin more worn and gut more rounded from years of drinking, he lumbers forward, arms outstretched as if to give Beck and me a group hug.

I step back but he continues, the smirk never fading, until he has a hand on each of our shoulders. "Isn't this nice, my boys back together again."

Face twisted in disgust, I shove his hand from my body, voice coming out more like a growl. "I am not your boy."

"Beau," Beck mumbles. "Just keep cool, it's fine."

"You still talk to this piece of shit?" I whip my head around to face him.

Before Beck can answer me, Jack takes another step closer. "Yeah, he does. Beck here didn't run away like a damn bitch when he didn't get his way."

"Dad." Beck interjects but I speak over him. I don't need Beck, of all people, taking care of my business.

"Yeah?" I raise a brow. "Turns out I just don't give a shit what happens to you. Why don't you crawl back to the ditch you dragged yourself out of?" I turn my back to him, ready to find Emma. "Maybe drink yourself to death, while you're at it."

Unfazed, Jack only sharpens his tone a little bit. "Maybe you'll join me, eh, boy? I seen you on TV - seems like you're more like your old man than you thought, huh?"

Turning back around, I shake my head at him, somehow containing my temper still. Some of the other party-goers are beginning to stare, to inch closer.

"Give it a rest, Jack. We are not the same." I lean in, looking down on him now that I'm fully grown. "You're just a sad old man with nothing left."

"If that's how you feel... That's fine, boy." Jack grunts, brushing me off. "I've had one son since the day you left - and now I'm just here to see my grandson, that's it."

"Fine by me." I spit, turning on my heel just as Emma approaches, clinging to my arm and staring at me wide-eyed.

"It's nothing," I tell her, guiding her towards the street where we've parked. She'll have questions. So many questions.

Emma cranes her neck for a better look at Jack and as she does, his eyes feast on her hungrily before his lips pull into a snide grin.

Red-hot fury blurs my vision but I try to suppress it. For Emma. Not for anyone else. Definitely not for him.

"Oh, yeah. Now what was it that I told you, Beau?" Jack shouts at our backs. "About history repeating itself? How many kids you got now? All that touring, women must've been all over you."

Ignore him. Fucking ignore him.

I peer down at Emma carefully.

At least until she's home. Then find this fucker and beat his ass senseless.

And then the asshole speaks again.

"Is she just the latest pretty lady to open up her legs for you?"

No thinking, just movement. My muscles contract and I turn around, lunging forward towards my father before I even know what I'm doing. My arms wrap around his waist and I bring him to the ground, straddling him before he can push me off. My arm cocks back again and again, fist connecting with flesh until I hear his nose crack, his blood spit across the grass.

There's no sound, just an angry ringing in my ears as I make his face unrecognizable. Nothing else matters expect pummeling him into the dirt. Until he's nothing. Nonexistent.

Somehow Jack bucks his hips and throws me to the ground, grabbing the neck of my shirt and landing a punch to my jaw. Then another to my nose, the blood dripping to my mouth as I shove him hard onto his back, regaining the upper hand.

I'm on top of him again when someone grabs my arm, pulling me off of him.

"Beau, stop! Please, stop." Emma's voice finally pierces the veil of my fury but it's not her touch on my body.

Yanking me away and shoving my face into the ground, a police officer cuffs my wrists behind my back, the metal digging into my skin. It's then that I hear the cries of the party-goers, take in Zoey's horrified expression as she hugs her mother, now holding her baby as Beck wrestles to keep Jack on the ground. Another officer approaches, taking over for Beck, and leads a dirty, bloodied Jack to his cop car.

I resist every fiber of my being that wants to jump up and finish what I started.

Head on a swivel, I finally find Emma, talking with the police officer by his car. I struggle to stand and the officer comes over, helping me to my feet. For the first time, I cooperate.

"Emma," I mumble as I walk by, lip stinging with a fresh cut. "Emma, I'm sorry."

Reaching a hand out to me, eyes sad, Emma promises to meet me at the station as the cop folds me over into the backseat of his car.

***

Back at the lake house, I settle onto the couch, watching Emma intently as she moves about the kitchen.

Fuck, just talk to me. Please.

Don't be mad.

I wish she could hear my thoughts - the words I never get right when I say them out loud.

Cracking an ice pack and wrapping it in a towel, she sits beside me, placing the ice over my bloodied knuckles.

Don't be a coward. Fucking say something to her.

I open my mouth to apologize but Emma is already talking, her dark eyes full of concern as they search my face.

"Are you okay?" Her palm is soft against my sore cheek, her voice quiet.

"Emma," I grab her hand and close my eyes tightly, praying she hasn't decided this is her final straw. "I'm so sorry."

"Beau," She shakes her head, covering my lips gently with her finger tips. "Are you okay?"

I shrug, refusing to really think about what happened. I saw my father - we fought. We got arrested, I could post bail and he couldn't. He's where he deserves to be, at least for now. And I'm with Emma. I don't know if I deserve to be here, but I am.

And I don't want to think about anything else.

"I'm fine." I tell her. "Just a little less handsome for a couple of weeks."

She cracks a tiny smile. "You've always managed to pull off a black eye, surprisingly." She cuddles against my side, resting her cheek on my shoulder. "That was your dad."

Not a question. An observation. I nod, kissing the top of her head.

"Beau?" Emma pulls away and it hurts me more than my bruises. Softly, like she's unsure, she whispers, "Did he hurt you?"

I scoff. "I'm fine."

"I mean..." She bites her lower lip, casting her eyes down to her fiddling fingers. "I mean when you were younger, did he hurt you?"

A rock lodges in my esophagus. Emma meets my eyes, hers glassy with tears as she grips my fingers tightly in her own. Flames lick the back of my throat as I clench and unclench my fists.

"It was a long time ago, Em. It doesn't matter." I shake my head, pushing memories I haven't visited in years back down where they belong. I dip my head, my brows furrowing.

"I'm so sorry for what that man did to you." Emma lifts my chin with a delicate finger, her voice strong. "You didn't deserve it."

My teeth grit together as my chest tightens. I look down, blinking away the prickling sensation in my eyes. I nod, saying nothing, not trusting my mouth to speak.

Placing a hand on Emma's belly, I can't meet her eyes when I finally find the words. "What if I am like him, Em?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if I am exactly like my father?" I finally meet her eyes, shame and resentment washing over me in crushing waves. The scratchy sensation in my throat intensifies as it gets harder to breathe.

"The fact that you're worried about it tells me you're not." Emma says confidently, clutching my face between her hands. "You are not your father. You deserved better than him, Beau. You are better than him. I mean it."

Finally, everything inside me crumbles apart and I suck in a ragged breath, the rare wetness in my eyes already pooling over into pitiful tears.

"Come here." Emma coos, standing in front of me and pulling me to her body. Shoving my face into her swollen belly, I wrap my arms around her waist as tight as I can.

Rasping for air, my vision blurry with salty tears, I speak into her shirt, feeling so weak and broken but not caring at the same time. I'm tired of fucking caring.

"I hate him." I gasp, "I fucking hate him."

Her fingers run through my hair in soothing motions, her body warm against mine as she hushes me, like she would a crying child.

And that's what I feel like: a scared little boy.

How can I be good for them, my girl and my baby, when I come from him?

Squeezing my eyes tightly, I bury myself in Emma's scent, her touch, hoping it will make everything else feel okay. Fuck, I need things to be okay.

I need to be okay.

A fluttering thump in Emma's belly bumps against my tear-stained cheek and my heart stops.

I need to not be like him.

my heart breaks for Beau - what else is new?
what'd ya think, lovelies?
vote if you want to destroy Beck's dad!!