This man doesn’t give a fuck that I exist. This man is Dickhead Dustin in about thirty years. This man is no one to me.
“Take care, Gerald,” I tell him as I step down his porch to leave.
He doesn’t stop me. He doesn’t wave. He doesn’t even keep the door cracked to watch me leave. He about-faces, goes back inside and slams his door shut.
When I get back in my Tesla, I stare at the house for a few moments.
Gerald is a piece of shit. And I have no idea why my father wanted me to meet him. But I don’t frown for long because as I’m backing out, texts from Beck come through.
Beck:Hope it’s going well.
Beck:Dinner tonight? I miss you.
Beck:Jett misses you, too.
Before messaging her, I send a quick text to Tobias, telling him I’m ready to meet for lunch sometime next week. Whether he knew about Gerald or not, it’s time to be a man and not leave these people in limbo. It’s not fair to the Wrench Kings name, either. After he responds happily, I text Beck and though I still have no clue what dad was trying to tell me, I leave with a smile because I’m headed to them.
16
Beck
Dustin wore suits. Suits are stupid.
“Hey, is it okay that I called instead of texting? I’m driving.” His voice is a little shaky, but not broken. “You’re the only voice I wanted to hear right now and god, Ineedto hear it.”
Iam the first person he wanted to call.
It’s a weird place to be when you’re in between “your people.” My person was, in hindsight, never really Dustin. I had people, and they were my parents and Goldie. That’s it.
The desire for Beau to hear my voice afterwhateverhappened with his birth dad makes me realize my list of “people” is growing.
And it should be terrifying.
But as his gruff voice drifts through my phone, I don’t feel any of that anxiety or fear around my choice to add him to my people. I only feel relief that I’ve found him.
And right now? Thathehasme.
“Of course,” I respond, keeping my voice calm but upbeat—exactly what he seems to need. “How did it go?” I’m almost scared to ask because nothing about his voice sounds happy or even pleasant. His sigh is heavy.
“You still want to have dinner with me tonight?” The hope teetering in his voice makes my heart crack. He’s questioning his worth; I can literally hear it.
“If I’m being honest, I want to eat dinner with you… every night.” I take a beat, waiting to hear him breathe or say something or… anything. “I think Jett does, too.” I look at the ground where Jett is crawling towards me with his giraffe dangling from his mouth, like a dog with a bone. “Jett, I’m on the phone with Beau. It’s Beau,” I say clearly, pointing to my phone. Thank the Lord for this sweet child and thank the Gods of baby cooperation because Jett opens his mouth, spit-covered giraffe falling to the floor, and shouts, “Bo!” as loudly as his little voice box allows.
“Thank you,” Beau says a moment later, all smoke and rasp. While I know he’s definitely not trying to be sexy, he is. And yet my heart aches because I don’t know if he’s okay.
“For what?” I ask, bending down to hand Jett his giraffe.
“For saying that. And… just, for being my girl.”
My girl.My cheeks tingle and flush at those two words. I never expected to giggle or grin or flush at my age. Then again, I never expected to meet a man like Beau, either. I guess that's a life lesson for me–never lose hope.
“Am I?” I ask, not wanting to add pressure to what feels like a tense moment for Beau but realizing after three months of having him in my life daily in some form, I want a label. I’m not scared to label it anymore.
“Will you be?” He sounds almost nervous.
“Is this a girlfriend proposal?” I joke to lighten the mood, but his response is quick and serious.
“Yes. Officially be my girlfriend. Because I’ve been calling you my girlfriend to everyone anyway.”