Chapter 50

“Hey, you,” he whispered. He lifted Beau’s head as carefully as he could and scooted underneath so he could rest Beau’s cheek on his lap. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you how you’re feeling.” He stroked Beau’s neck and got a long ruffle of air breathed onto his thigh for his trouble. Assuming that was a good sound, he kept the motion going. “I always hate that, you know—when they ask you how you are? Most people only ask because they want you to say that you’re feeling better. They want you to give them hope. Like that’s your fucking job, right? Here you are, feeling like a big piece of crap that’s been shit out onto the sidewalk and ground into the concrete, and they want you to smile and tell them you’re feeling much better, thank you so much.”

Beau blew another breath and Bryson nodded at him as if he had answered.