3

"That's sweet of you, but I think I'm all set."

Beau kept his head down to conceal his smile as she turned away another guy who wanted to buy her a drink. He strolled casually up to her just as she got ready to blow him off too. "You better be careful, or you'll get a reputation."

"What reputation?"

"Little Miss Heartache." She rolled her eyes at him as he signaled the bartender for two beers. "You're at a bar, Chiles, and you're over 21. You know you're allowed to have a drink, right?"

"You're just sayin' that because the last time I drank with you, you got me down to my underwear." The memory of that drunken night, cut far too short, hit them in the heart. She sipped on her iced tea and clapped when with the crowd for the last chord of the featured band's debut. "I can't have you takin' advantage of me in public."

"Who, me? I wasn't wearing much at the end either." He threw a few bills down on the bar and surveyed the crowd. "Not bad for rookie's night. How did your day go?"

She straightened her back, a rare and smug grin on her face. "You're lookin' at the new receptionist for Cavick Hill Retirement Home." She put on her professional smile. "Welcome to Cavick Hill, where you will have the time of your life." Beau chortled into his beer. "Don't laugh, I didn't write it. Besides, I think that old people are sweet."

"You know, when you say things like that, you're askin' for it, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The oldest pick-up line in the book. 'Not as sweet as you, lil' lady.'" He tipped the brim of his hat to her and a giggle bubbled out of her lips.

"Lil' lady? Really? That's the best you can do?"

"You're working in a retirement home. Best get used to it." He took off his denim jacket and threw it for her to catch. "All right, I'm up next... Babydoll." He waved casually without looking back as he walked toward the stage, but he could still hear her laugh. When she laughed like that, genuine without the beauty-queen plastic wrap she liked to cover herself with... well, there was nothing like it.

"What are you doin' over there?" Beau yelled from his bed after checking the clock on his oak nightstand. "It's seven in the morning on a weekend! If there is one rule in this house, it's that we sleep in on the weekends."

"Then go back to sleep and leave me alone!" She yelled back. He tried to take her advice, his body was begging him too. Ever since Chiles moved in to the room next door a few days ago, it was near impossible to get a good night sleep knowing that...well, knowing she was right there. He could hardly process the very real fact that Chiles Stanton was back in his life again, let alone so close.

But then that nagging voice in that back of his mind who couldn't enjoy the sweet smile she threw him whenever she said 'goodnight' would taunt him, asking just how long she would stick around for this time? There were some things in his life he wasn't proud of, and maybe losing her was the punishment. His mother always taught him about balance. For every bad thing you do, God has a way of catching up to you.

Despite his need for rest, the rustling next door continued and in the quiet morning, the noises were deafening. He tossed his comforter aside and slipped into his slippers, grabbed a worn-in robe over his wifebeater and shorts, and shuffled over to her room lazily. Her door was opened just a crack and he could see her slender back to him, her hair pinned up and her head bent over something. He knocked quietly.

Startled by the sudden intrusion of noise, Chiles sat up, her bare shoulders clenched up. "Ow! Crap!" He swung the door open and watched her throw his jacket to the side of the bed and hold onto her index finger. At the sight of the smallest droplet of blood, he walked quickly and sat beside her on the bed. "You made me prick myself."

He grabbed her wounded hand with one hand and leaned over to pick up the dropped needle and thread and placed it on the nightstand. Without thought, he brought the fingertip to his mouth. It was what his mother taught him when he was younger. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the windowsill and wiped off the microscopic wound. She looked at her now sloppily bandaged hand with such reverie that he was almost embarrassed. "I could have taken care of myself," she said quietly. "But thank you."

"What were you doing anyway?"

"Well, last night, I noticed a button coming loose on your jacket." She fingered the loose button gently without looking at him. It reminded him of when she used to get so nervous she'd freeze up on stage. Or when she used to ask him if he still liked her. "I know I shouldn't just touch your things... It's just... you've done so much for me. It's the least that I could do..."

"Well, you didn't have to-"

"I know," she said quickly, looking up at him. "But I wanted to. It's something I'm good at. My mom used to..." she trailed off and her eyes caught that far away look again.

"Your mom used to what?"

Even though she smiled softly and waved it off with an "it's nothing," Beau knew there was even more to Chiles than he already knew. He had a thought briefly, but disregarded it as soon as it came to mind. It's a shame, really, considering how close to the truth he was.

This was the first time anyone had ever really taken care of her.