BEAU

I hate police stations.

And I really fucking hate cops.

But watching Emma curled on the seat beside me, her arms wrapped protectively around her belly, no, our goddamn child, I don't know what else to fucking do.

I run my hands through my hair another time, my legs bouncing on the plastic seat so fast it's making screeching, creaking sounds.

The station is crowded, late on a Friday night, and the cell is full of intoxicated delinquents. The smell of stale coffee and vomit permeates the air. Cops come and go, their walkies constantly chattering.

Will someone fucking talk to us already?

"Beau," Emma places a hand on my thigh and I realize my outburst was actually out loud.

The female officer who told us where to wait raises her brows at us before walking over, a tired look in her dark eyes.

"Would you come with me please?"

Finally.

Emma gives me a stern eye before standing, taking my hand as we walk towards the officers desk.  But she doesn't stay.

"Officer Howard will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you." Emma murmurs, her face still pale and expressionless like it was when I'd found her in the kitchen, surrounded by shattered glass and water.

The hand not holding Emma's clenches into a fist against my thigh.

Whoever is fucking doing this to her... when I find him, I'll kill him. He better hope the police find him first. I'll...

My thoughts are interrupted.

A portly man, his gut bulging over his belt, with dark sloppy hair, I'm assuming Officer Howard, approaches the desk. Setting down a mug of coffee and a notepad, he leisurely rests back in his chair, crossing his arms over his stomach.

Eyeing me up and down, gaze lingering on my earring and tattoos, the contempt crystal clear, he lazily presses a couple of keys on the computer to wake the screen.

"Are you going to fucking take our statement or what?" I snap, desperately wanting to shake the man till his secret stash of donuts comes rolling across the floor.

"Easy, kid." He mutters, not glancing my way. "What's your name, Miss?"

I clench my jaw, keeping my eye line straight ahead, not daring to look at Emma's terrified face again.

"Emma Carter."

Fuck, her voice sounds so small.

"So what's been going on? You mentioned a potential stalker?"

"Not potential. She has a fucking stalker." I lean forward, wondering why he isn't more hurried, more pressed.

Doesn't he see how important this is? How important she is?

"Listen." He holds his palm to me. "I can appreciate your concern, I assume you're her boyfriend, right? But I need to hear this from her."

Fuck, I hate cops.

So grind my teeth together, the muscles in my jaw straining as I listen to Emma explain, my heart twisting in my chest as she recalls every note, every rose, every weird Instagram notification or phone call. Every moment of fear, of vulnerability. Ones she never told me about, ones I should have been there for.

It takes everything in me to stay seated, to not get up and do something.

What good am I? Sitting here, doing nothing - not even allowed to speak?

"Have any of these correspondences been threatening in nature?" The officer takes scarce notes of everything Emma has recounted.

I narrow my eyes at the paper.

"Well..." Emma stares down at her fingers, her cuticles raw. "I guess not directly... But-"

"Then we can't prove there's intent to harm." He leans back farther in his seat and I want to wring his neck like a dirty towel.

"But..." Emma mumbles, her brows coming together as tears collect in her eyes.

"Can't you do anything?" I growl.

The officer hardly gives me a wayward glance, before taking a deep sigh and addressing Emma again, like I'm not even there.

Why is he making me even more useless?

"Are these... messages and things..." He puts his pen to his notepad, "Emotionally, mentally, or psychologically distressing to you?"

"Are you fucking serious?" I can't help as my voice rises, the anger overtaking me. "What do you think? She's fucking pregnant and someone won't leave her alone. They show up at her house and leave shit, creepy notes talking about her goddamn pregnancy - what if they find her alone, what if-"

"Sir." Officer Howard turns to me, his expression softening a little bit. "I know you're concerned about your girlfriend, your baby. We'll do what we can to help, I promise you that, but there are things we have to get through first. Alright?"

Emma's head falls, her face covered with her hands.

Goddammit.

I nod curtly, wordlessly, my fingers thrumming rapidly against my leg.

"Aright then." He nods and returns to his line of questioning. "Emma?"

"Yes," She whispers without lifting her head. "Yes, it is distressing."

My stomach ties in knots, the fury red hot running through me.

"Do you happen to have any of the notes, online communications, anything like that, that we can analyze for evidence?"

Emma winces. "The vase shattered."

"No notes or messages?"

"I deleted my account and we threw the notes away, except for this one." Emma holds up tonights, slightly soggy with water from the vase.

Officer Howard takes it, seeming somewhat disappointed.

Fuck me, how could I be so stupid to let her toss the other notes? Left and right I'm letting her down, not being the man, the protector, that she needs.

"Well, we will look into this." He promises. "In the meantime," he eyes me, "I'll get an extra patrol in your area. Where are you located?"

"She has her condo and our lake house." I mumble.

Raising a brow, he clarifies. "Where will you be this week, to start us off?"

"The lake house." Emma explains, giving him all of the information he needs, including best ways to reach her.

"Do you have anyone who can stay with you, when your boyfriend can't? For some peace of mind?"

I glare at him, realizing the next morning is when I'm supposed to go out of state with Zoey to see Max. Fuck it, I'm rescheduling. I don't care - I have bigger shit to deal with.

I can't leave Emma now.

"Parker," She murmurs, eyeing me for confirmation.

I nod, trusting him more than anyone else. Myself excluded.

Sliding over his card and insisting he will make himself available, Officer Howard all but dismisses us.

Irritated, and even more so now that I'm reminded of my trip, I lead Emma out of the station.

Inside my Mustang, I lean my forehead against the wheel. Letting out a deep breath, I turn my head to face Emma.

"How do you feel?" She asks, slowly coming out of her shocked state.

She looks so tired, so worn down. So nervous.

I scoff humorlessly. "How do you feel?"

"I asked you first."

I shake my head, staring out the windshield at the outside of the station, a mixture of brick and shrubbery.

"Helpless."

"Me, too." She squeezes my hand in hers. "But you'll be home by Monday and everything will be fine. Everything will be fine."

I'm not sure who she's trying to convince more: me or herself.

Still, I cock my head at her, wondering if she's gone completely nuts. "I'm not going."

"What?" Emma raises her brows as I finally pull out of the parking lot, my opinion of law enforcement nowhere improved from when we walked in.

"What do you mean you're not going?"

"I'm needed here, where I can protect my family." I stare at the street ahead. If Zoey's upset, so be it.

"Max is supposedly your family too."

Supposedly, Emma reminds me.

"Max has parents who take care of him." I grunt, eyeing her in my peripherals. "Who takes care of you?"

Emma is quiet for a moment, but I know she's thinking hard on something. I wait it out, preparing for whatever argument she throws my way.

While she thinks, I make a mental checklist of everything I've done so far and everything I can do, still.

I upgraded our security system, and the one she has at the condo. But because we had so many guests in and out at the shower, the system was turned off. It was likely off when the stalker left the flowers.

Shit.

My private detail has been outside Emma's place any time she's there alone, which isn't often, and trails us when we go anywhere together, lake house included.

How could they have not seen the prick?

Now the police are doing a patrol around the block, if they are worth their word at all.

"Fuck!" I mutter, slamming my hand against the steering wheel suddenly.

What else can I do? Besides stand guard outside the house 24/7?

If that's what it takes...

In the passenger seat, Emma sniffles. Taking my eyes from the road, I find her crying, trying desperately to hide her tears.

"Hey, Em, don't cry." I grip her thigh snugly. "Don't cry, baby. I'll take care of it, I promise. I'll take care of you both."

I move my hand from her leg to her belly, waiting for a kick before I grab her hand again.

"I know." She sniffs, voice wobbly. "I know, I just... I want all of this to be over. I want to be happy with you and our baby and not... not think about someone hurting us or, or..." She draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

Taking a quick glance at the road, I urge her. "Or what, baby?"

Her cheeks redden even more as a new wave of tears rolls down her cheeks.

"Or Zoey coming around to mess things up." She leans her head against the window, so I can't see her face.

"Em, I promise, Zoey doesn't matter. She won't mess anything up."

I won't fucking let her.

Emma speaks as if I haven't. "I just want you to go on this trip and get it over with. Satisfy her so she'll leave us alone. So we can leave all of this behind us and just move on and finally be happy."

My jaw ticks. Everything that brought me to Emma in the first place, everything that made me leave and even be in the position to meet her at all, is exactly what's hurting her now.

Shit, why is everything always so fucking complicated?

"Okay." I say finally, reluctantly. I don't want to leave her, God, it kills me to think about it. But I can't see her crying like this anymore. "Okay, Em. I'll go. And you're right, I'll be back on Monday and everything will be okay."

She gives my hand a squeeze before settling into sad silence, the only sound her slight sniffling all the way home.

***

"That's all you brought?" Zoey eyes my duffel bag over my shoulder as we unload in the lot of a cheap motel.

I've stayed in worse and Zoey can't afford better.

"It's not a vacation, Zoey." I snap. I had to insist we take separate vehicles in case anything happened at home, and Zoey ultimately agreed, although a bit begrudgingly.

"We're here to check, from a distance, that Max is fine." I continue. "Once that's done, I'm gone."

"Okay, jeez." Zoey mutters, pulling a suitcase out of her trunk.

Noticing the quiet, I wonder, "Where's the little screecher?"

Pursing her lips at me as we cross the parking lot, she tells me Jack is with her mother for the weekend.

"Beck can't watch his own kid?"

"He's working." She snaps, but the pout on her face lessens the impact.

From there we walk in silence, finding ourselves in the cramped reception lobby. If you could even call it that. With a shabby sofa on one wall, a dimly-lit floor lamp in the corner, and a deeply cracked coffee table, the most impressive fixture is the thick slab of glass in front of the reception desk.

Approaching it, I hold up two fingers to the white-haired woman hiding behind a gossip magazine. "Two rooms please."

"Two?" Zoey quips from beside me. "Is that necessary?"

I roll my eyes. "Absolutely."

"It would be cheaper to split."

"Not my problem." I grind my teeth together.

"And it's nothing I haven't seen before-"

"Zoey!" I snap loudly, making her jump.

She opens her mouth like a fish. The woman behind the counter looks between the two of us, turning slowly to the wall of room keys.

"So... two?" She looks to me for an answer.

"Please."

Will Beau really be back on Monday + will everything really be okay???👀
Let me know in the comments and stay tuned for another update soon!
Remember to vote if you hate Zoey *winkwink*