Page 9 of Evergreen Desires
“Oh… I did not mean to insult; growing up we ate the frozen dinner ones. Yours sound wonderful. Yes please.”
While we talked, Will pulled in with the truck and trailer. I pointed to Jake’s car, and he positioned the truck and trailer behind it, so that it could be pulled up for towing. Will hopped out of the truck and came over.
“Thanks for coming over so quickly,” I told him.
“Anytime! Let me meet the new friend of yours that would have you calling in the cavalry for him.” He turned to Jake and stuck out his hand with a giant smile on his face. “Hi, I am Will. I am Beau’s oldest, and I figure, only friend.”
“Jake.” Jake leaned into me a little; perhaps Will was being too much of a people person at this moment of vulnerability.
“Okay, Will, enough. Jake’s car broke down. Let’s get it back up to the farm. I invited him to dinner and to stay with me while he figures things out.”
“Cool. Can I come for dinner too?” Will said.
“Yes, you can come,” I turned to Jake, realizing it might overwhelm him. “You okay with that? Will’s with you about microwave dinners.”
“Sure, you’re cooking and doing all this for me. Who am I to complain?” Jake answered with a shrug.
With that, we finished loading up the car and headed for the farm.
CHAPTER 9
JAKE
The sun was peeking into the room around the blinds, casting a warm glow on the walls. Despite being up in the foothills on the west side of the Olympic Mountains in the normally rainy Pacific Northwest, it was surprisingly bright. Hopefully, a sign for how the day was going to go.
I’d slept soundly for being in a strange place. Beau had been nothing but a gentleman to me, and even his friend Will, seemed to be really nice—talkative and outgoing. Beau was right, no filter.I was impressed that the two of them did not press me for details last night during the drive home or dinner. I was pretty wiped out from the events of yesterday, not to mention the cold, uneasy sleep in my car the night before. I was ready to fall asleep the moment dinner was done. I only remembered the conversation about getting rest and coming up with a plan in the morning.
Beau did make sure I had the lay of the land before showing me to the guest room. I knew where the bathroom was, the linen closet if I needed more blankets, and even that his room was at the top of the stairs if I needed anything. I found myself leaning in to get a deep bear hug from him before turning to retire to my room. He seemed happy to reciprocate, and I think I even felt him smelling my head. It was strange, but also oddly comforting. However, I knew I couldn’t let myself get too attached. I barely knew him, and I wasn’t about to jump into something when I was still trying to escape my last relationship. No matter how good Beau looked or how weak in the knees he seemed to make me.
The phone on the nightstand dinged with an alert, jolting me back to the here and now. Apparently, my low funds alerts from the bank were suddenly kicking in. Reality hit me hard. What was I going to do with no money, no way to fix my car, and no job prospects? My ex always kept me at home, and we only used my money from my mom's inheritance for emergencies. Now it was gone. I wish I had recognized the controlling behavior a little sooner or planned my exit better. Lesson learned... the hard way.
I heard movement outside the room—soft footsteps, the clink of something in the kitchen. Probably Beau.
Skepticism crept in, uninvited but familiar. Was he really this kind? Or was it just an act? My brain had been rewired to look for warning signs, and every nice gesture felt like a setup. I couldn’t help but question his motives. People didn’t just take you in, no questions asked, unless they wanted something in return. Right?
Declan had started out kind, too. Thoughtful. Attentive. He’d made me feel seen, protected. And then little by little, it shifted—until his concern became control, and his love started to feel like a cage I couldn’t escape. Compliments became critiques. Affection turned to possessiveness. By the time I realized how deep I was in, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.
And now here was Beau—gentle, patient, quiet in a way that didn’t feel calculated. He hadn’t asked for anything. Hadn’t pressed. But that was the thing about being hurt: it made you doubt even kindness.
Was he love bombing me? Or was this just what decent people looked like—something I’d forgotten how to recognize?
There was no way to tell. Not yet.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself to face him, reminding myself that caution was okay—but not everyone deserved my suspicion.
Stepping out of the room, I made my way towards the sounds. Beau stood by the stove, cooking. He looked up, his expression cautious, as if he was unsure how I'd react.
"Good morning. How did you sleep?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
"Fine. Thank you again for allowing me to stay here last night," I replied, trying to keep my guard up.
"You're welcome to stay as long as you need or want," he responded confidently, almost matter-of-factly. "I'm making you some French toast. Sorry, I'm not sure whatyou like for breakfast, but I thought I overheard you mention French toast at some point yesterday. Do you like coffee?"
I nodded, still maintaining my skepticism. Was this all just an act? But as Beau poured a cup of coffee and set it on the breakfast bar, I noticed his genuine effort to make me feel comfortable.
"I have milk in the fridge and sugar over there." Beau pointed towards the kitchen. "Sorry I don't have any special flavors or syrups here. Will has lots of that stuff at the office. I can run over there and grab something for you if you'd like."
"No, I'm good with milk and sugar. No need to go out of your way," I replied, trying to keep him at arm's length. "Thank you anyways."
