The knock on your door is sharp, urgent—like he already knows he has no right to be here, but he’s doing it anyway. When you open it, Beau’s standing there in the rain, soaked through, his Stetson clutched in one hand like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Didn’t know if you’d answer.”

You don’t say anything. You just look at him—eyes cold, arms crossed, shoulders stiff. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for weeks.

“I’ve been drivin’ around for hours, thinkin’ about what to say, and none of it sounds good enough. Probably ’cause there ain’t nothin’ good enough to fix what I did.”

You shift in the doorway but stay planted, silent. He takes a step closer, rain dripping off his jaw.

“I should’ve said no. I should’ve shut it down the second it started. You were everything to me—and I threw it away like it meant nothin’. I don’t even know why. It wasn’t worth it. None of it was.”

“Then why did you?”

Your voice cuts through him like a blade—quiet, but it hits hard. He flinches like he expected it and still wasn’t ready.

“I was stupid. I was selfish. I thought I could handle it without losing you. But I lost you the second I said yes to someone else. You were right there, trusting me, lovin’ me… and I broke that. I broke you.”

You scoff under your breath, but your eyes sting.

“Yeah. You did.”

He looks away, jaw tight, eyes glinting like maybe he’s holding back tears of his own.

“I don’t want your forgiveness. Hell, I don’t deserve it. But I had to say this to your face. I need you to know that if I could go back—if I could change that night—I would. I’d take it all back in a heartbeat.”

“But you can’t.”

You’re shaking your head now, voice cracking in that way that makes him wince more than yelling ever could.

“And I have to live with that. Just like you’ve had to live with what I did. I get that now.”

He hesitates for a long moment. Like he’s thinking of reaching for your hand, but doesn’t dare.

“I never stopped loving you. I still don’t know how to stop.”

You say nothing this time. Just stare at him, every memory flashing behind your eyes—every promise, every kiss, every lie.

And Beau just stands there, soaking wet, waiting for you to slam the door or let the silence speak for you.