Anxiety

Beau gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he drove into his hometown, the familiar streets doing little to ease his nerves. "Everything will be okay," he muttered under his breath, his tone more hopeful than confident. "It's going to be a normal day."

But even as he said it, the truth felt hollow. "Who am I kidding?" he groaned, he had an anxious feeling that refused to go away.

His face had been plastered across several newspapers and magazines lately, each article threatening to shatter his private life. The thought of it all made him nervous. "Alright, Beau. Just get home, refresh, and head to the hospital. It'll be fine." The words felt like a weak shield, but they offered just enough comfort to keep him going.

When he finally pulled into his driveway, he lingered in the car for a moment longer than necessary. The house loomed in front of him. Would anyone be home? Part of him hoped for an empty house so he wouldn't be scrutinized.

He stepped out of the car and made his way to the door, noting its unlocked state as he quietly let himself in. The house seemed empty, at least downstairs, and for a fleeting moment, relief washed over him.

His foot had barely touched the first step of the staircase when someone cleared their throat behind him. The sound froze him in place. So much for an easygoing day.

Plastering on his most disarming smile, he turned slowly to face the source of the noise. "Pops, good to see you," Beau said casually.

His father stood by the table, his expression anything but pleased. Without a word, he tossed a magazine towards Beau, which landed on the floor in front of him, the pages fluttered slightly before settling to reveal its cover. Beau's stomach sank as his eyes landed on the image—him, in Lanet's arms, nestled between his legs, leaning back against his chest.

There was no denying the intimacy of the picture. Any attempt to explain it away as a simple friendship would fail instantly.

"Explain yourself, boy," his father demanded sharply.

Beau swallowed hard, his father's gaze making him feel as though he were standing trial in his own home.

He sighed, realizing that his father wasn't going to let him out of this one. "Where do I even begin?" he whispered, running a hand through his hair.

"Come sit." His father patted the empty spot on the couch beside him.

Reluctantly, Beau made his way over and sank into the seat, his legs bouncing nervously, he wasn't ready to talk about this.

"Clearly, your road trip to the city was more than just a regular visit," his father began, his tone free from judgment, which made Beau a little relieved. Instead, he watched Beau with an unsettling patience, as if waiting for the story to spill itself out.

Beau hesitated, his thoughts swirling. Finally, he took a deep, shaky breath and said, "Well... we're sort of seeing each other."

"Sort of?" His father raised an eyebrow.

"Pops, please don't make me feel weird about this," Beau pleaded. "I'm already nervous enough about being out in public."

"Well, you aren't exactly telling me what's going on." His father pulled him into a side hug, his arm warm and steady against Beau's back. "Look, I know your life, and I understand you," he said gently. "But I don't approve of some of your choices. I just wanted to warn you—"

"I know, Pops. I know how this affects me and my job," Beau interrupted softly.

His father's expression shifted, a glint of sarcasm creeping into his eyes. "I didn't know stealing was a job," he said, feigning shock. The mock surprise was so exaggerated it forced a soft chuckle out of Beau.

"Anyway," his father continued, his tone leveling again, "I guess you understand that you can't just go around doing your 'job' anymore."

Beau stiffened, his thoughts darting to Hue and the plans brewing in his mind. He knew better than to admit his intentions outright, so he simply nodded.

"Good," his father said, satisfied for the moment. "Now, tell me about this man."

A smile spread across Beau's face, warmth radiating from within. "I think he's a selfless and kind man. What can I say? I feel happy when I'm with him."

His father nodded thoughtfully. "If anything, I'm happy that you've found someone."

Before Beau could respond, loud footsteps thundered down the stairs. The commotion ended abruptly as a voice called out, "Dude, your mom will kill you. Stop running around the house." Stanz appeared, Star trailing behind her.

"Uncle Beau!" Star squealed with delight as he launched himself onto the couch, sprawling across both Beau and his father.

"Hey, little man," Beau said, chuckling. Star looked up at him with a mischievous grin, his expression practically begging for a question.

"What?" Beau asked, raising a confused eyebrow.

Star sat up, meeting Beau's gaze with a twinkle in his eye. "Nothing. Mommy said I should not say a word."

"Hey, Beau," Stanz greeted, her grin sly as if she knew exactly what Star wasn't supposed to say.

Beau rolled his eyes. "Hey, Stanz... I, uh, I have to go to the clinic."

Shifting Star off his lap, Beau stood and stretched. "See you later, Pops."

"Have a great day, son," his father replied with a knowing smile.

Beau waved goodbye, heading to his room to get ready.

____________

Hours later, he stood in the hospital, staring at the empty bed where his patient had been. A heaviness pressed down on his chest making it hard to breathe

"We can't keep up like this," Kaya said softly, her voice breaking as she blinked back tears.

Beau clenched his jaw, frustration simmering under the surface. The scene in front of him was all too familiar—another life lost because the clinic lacked resources. The image of the empty bed was etched in his mind, haunting him. They could only do so much with what they had.

Deliveries will always come whenever they feel like it, he thought bitterly. Meanwhile, we're running out of medicine, and people's lives are on the line. The thought gnawed at him, threatening to boil over into anger, but he knew he needed to stay calm—for Kaya, for the clinic, for the patients who still needed them.

He glanced at Kaya, her quiet sobs cutting through the sterile silence of the room. "We'll find a way," he said finally. Whether it was true or not, he had to believe it.