Free Mr. Wrong by Taryn A. Taylor Page B

computer and sent off her Beatrice article and a note to her professors, telling them the situation. He couldn’t die. She closed her eyes. He was her whole world. She pushed everything off of her bed and reached for the pillow. She tucked it into her face and sobbed.
     
    Chapter 15
     
    Beau banged the door with his fist. This was the address listed on the student directory he’d pulled up with his phone. He didn’t know why he was wasting his time coming over here. He only knew that he was unreasonably angered when Sara hadn’t shown up at the Cowboy.
    He leaned against the door and banged a final time. It was a Friday night, for crying out loud; she was either ignoring him or not at home.
    The door whipped open ; Sara stood there. She looked like a zombie from a horror movie. Her hair was matted and her black makeup surrounded her eyes and leaked down into the creases on her nose. Her usually bright blue eyes were bloodshot. “You’re looking rested,” Beau quipped, sticking his foot into the door. “Rob was upset you weren’t there.”
    Sara squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head fiercely as if she’d just woken from a bad dream. “Oh—something came up.”
    Beau eased in and shut the door. “Is this one of those spring canyon times?”
    “What?” Sara turned to face him.
    Beau didn’t know why he’d remembered that. “You said that your dad always said you were a desert in the summer or a canyon in the spring.” He stepped away from her, giving her space.
    Her lip started to quiver , and she rushed into the kitchen, getting a glass of water and guzzling it down. “You have to leave, Beau. I’m busy.” She stayed in front of the sink.
    The only light on was the one by the front door. Beau thought he saw a tear go down her cheek. He wasn’t going to leave. “You’re a terrible missionary. Don’t you know that you should keep promises you make?”
    She squared her back to him . “Just shut up, Beau.”
    Beau couldn’t stop himself from going to her. He knew that he annoyed her, but something had to be wrong. “What is going on?” It came out angrier than he wanted it to. He just hated it when people cried and he didn’t know why.
    “Beau —.” She reached out to steady herself on him and he caught her arm.
    “A re you okay?” He pushed her back and looked into her eyes, hating that his first instinct was to wrap his arms around her.
    “ It’s my dad. My brother said my dad’s waiting for me,” she choked off, sobbing.
    Beau quickly pulled her into him, gently stroking her hair. Sara cried into his chest. “Shh,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m sorry.” And he was. He could feel her grief leaking out around her. It touched him. Touched a grief that he’d carried inside of him for a long time.
    She clung to him like a frightened child. “I know it’s time. I just don’t want it to be.”
    He pulled her closer, trying not to get lost in how good she smelled. “I know.”
    Sara sniffed and pulled away. “Oh my—,” she said, looking at the clock on the stove, “I have to get ready.”
    Beau followed her into her room and noticed that it was a disaster. “When are you leaving?”
    “In—let’s see, seven hours.” She pulled her suitcase open and went to her closet, pulling clothes off the hangers.
    “I’ll give you a ride to the airport.”
    Sara paused, looking him up and down. “Thanks, but I’m driving.”
    She moved to the bathroom, pulling all her toiletries out of the basket next to the sink. Beau followed her feeling like a child following his mother around the house. “You can’t drive—that’s a two day drive.”
    Sara walked back into her bedroom. “It’s nine hours, but I’ll be fine.” She stuffed her little bag into her big bag and picked up her computer. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. I wonder if I can get my Lit assignment done.”
    Beau picked up her computer and put it on the bed. “I’ll drive you.”
    She frowned.