process everything,” I explain to him, “because I don’t know how things will look in five years for me. I have to adjust. But you…you’re never recovering him. I need to know that you’ll be fine.”
He looks at me, then glances at the surrounding area and whistles. “I don’t even know what fine is, Beacon. I’m with a therapist because apparently my issues are deeper than killing my ex-lover and almost losing my brother. I guess we both have to work hard to adjust to our new lives.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Grace
Dad and I watch Beacon while he talks to Vance.
“How are you handling this?” Dad asks.
I stare at Beacon. “It’s hard to cope with his anger,” I confess. “He’s not an angry guy. It hurts to see how the accident changed him, but I have hope. When he realizes that things are steering to the dark side, he fights those new demons.”
“Call me if you need anyone to talk to,” he repeats.
I nod. “Other than that, he’s Beacon fucking Aldridge, showing the world he can make things happen with hard work and the right mind.”
According to his physical therapists and Hayes, he’s made a lot more progress than many people in his condition. Beacon claims it’s because he promised his brother Carter that he’d work hard. The silver lining from this accident is that he spent some time with his brother. Some don’t want to believe him, I do. I want to think Carter held his hand when I couldn’t. That he is who brought him back to me.
“Just remember that you don’t have to take shit from anyone, not even him.”
“No worries, Dad. My psychotherapist and I are working on my own issues,” I mention.
Ever since the accident, I was asked to find a counselor who can give me support while I hold Beacon’s hand. Also, to help me deal with the trauma of almost losing him. It was hard to wait and watch him do nothing for nearly three weeks.
Beacon has a therapist too. This is going to be hard, even more so because he can’t just go home. He needs to stay in Baker’s Creek for another seven months. His brothers might not understand him—or worse, they might be too condescending with him. At least the guys are staying in Baker’s Creek too. If anything, Beac has us—his second family—to support him.
“The times I’ve spoken to him, he’s asked me to extend his sabbatical. Maybe transfer him to the Nerd Herd, unless you and the team want to quit. Then, he’ll quit.”
I look at Dad. “What do you want?”
“For you to be happy,” he answers. “You guys are a great team, but I want what’s best for all of you. I can’t see any of you working with another leader. He doesn’t seem like he wants to go back anytime soon. You haven’t mentioned work.”
I shake my head. “I can’t imagine being in the field without him—or on a stage. He needs me as much as I need to be with him.”
Dad smiles at me and nods. “Should I buy a house around here?”
I look at Beacon. My entire body relaxes when I notice him smirking as his other brothers approach him. “No, I’m sure we’ll be back home when he’s ready.”
Hopefully, Beacon’s perspective on his family dynamic will change soon from never seeing them again to coming and visiting often. I’m hopeful that his arms and hands will heal, and if not, he’ll find another way to create music.
“We never discussed this,” Beacon says, staring at the bed. “Are you staying or leaving?”
“Where do you want me?”
“Stop tiptoeing around my feelings, G,” he says, sighing. “I can tolerate it from anyone but you. You don’t take shit from me. Keep doing that. I need it to feel normal.”
“I’m trying. It’s just too hard. I almost lost you. You’re closed up to me. I don’t know what you’re thinking half of the time. When you’re angry, you retreat—only your therapist knows what’s happening.”
“I’m fucking adjusting,” he says. “I don’t want to be angry, but it’s fucking insane that my body can’t catch up to my brain—or maybe it’s the other way around. My brain should understand that I might not be able to do shit. What if I can’t play again?
“I want you to give me a solution. I want you to not say shit that will give me hope. I want you to leave because what if this is it. And yet I don’t want you to leave