Broken Beats

by D. Kelly

  “The entertainment industry is a fucked-up place. Rumors spread like wildfire, and the public is your judge, jury, and executioner. We don’t read the articles, and we don’t comment on anything unless we absolutely must. My feelings for you will never falter, and I will always put you first. No one has the right to tell me who to love.”

  She looks at me with sad eyes. “But you shouldn’t have to defend yourself, not because of me.”

  I hop up on the counter and spread my legs, motioning her to come closer. She steps between them, and I rest my hands on her voluptuous hips. “I’m going to tell you something. The only people who know this information are my band and security team.”

  She looks at me hesitantly. “Okay …”

  “Do you think people had a problem with my relationship with Belle?”

  Her brow furrows. “No, why would they? She seems like she was perfect. I’ve heard she was funny, sweet, and well-liked. Wait … you can’t mean because she was black?”

  Haddie’s eyes widen with surprise and perhaps a bit of sadness too. “Belle was all of those things. She was hilarious and full of life, she loved me like no one ever had, and I her. She was a kind, beautiful, smart, well educated, successful, African American woman, full of black girl magic, and she was dating someone the public perceives as a run of the mill, average white man who lucked out with fame. Some of her fans thought I wasn’t worthy of her. Although she got less hate from her readers, it was strong. She was a rising star in African American media, and I was the scuzzy, heavily tattooed, drummer of a rock band. A portion of her fans couldn’t understand why this USC graduate, who spent her spare time mentoring young black women would lower herself and her standards by dating someone like me.”

  Haddie’s eyes fill with tears. “That’s so … wrong. You can’t help who you love. And anyone who knows you knows what an amazing man you are.”

  A single tear escapes her eye, and I brush it away with my thumb. “It is wrong, and it always will be. Those people didn’t know us, they just knew how they perceived us through the media. Belle eloquently but firmly put the haters back in their place.

  “The hate mail I received was disgusting enough to make me want to pack up my wife and daughter and move to a desert island. The ridiculous part was, all those people accused me of betraying my race because they assumed I’m white. The media rarely covers my Mexican heritage, and since my coloring comes from my dad, no one would guess otherwise.”

  “That’s so unfair. How can you talk about it so calmly? I’m so angry for you!” Haddie’s eyes flare with rage to match the indignation in her tone.

  “Anger only gets you so far before you have to step back and think.”

  She caresses my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Darren.”

  I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss it, needing to ground myself. “I am too. I’m sorry we live in a world where people are stereotyped by the color of their skin, their religion, or a number on a scale. We have a security firm who goes through our mail, tracks our threats, and keeps lists of people who could pose a threat to us. Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to receive hate mail about your child?”

  She shudders, and the look of horror on her face is nothing compared to how it makes me feel inside. “She’s an innocent child! I hope to God you found out who those people were and extracted a lethal form of revenge on each and every one of them. Jesus, why would people do that?”

  Watching Haddie get worked up over Cadence is just another affirmation she’s the right person for me.

  “According to them, she’s impure and tainted. They send me hate mail about my bastard child and call her the N-word. We received letters from people who offered their condolences after Belle died, but they felt she died because we were traitors to our races. It makes me sick to think about my beautiful daughter growing up in a world where people would threaten her because of her heritage.”

  Haddie presses her hand against her stomach and looks physically ill. Taking a deep breath, her determined gaze meets mine.

  “You’ll raise her to become a strong woman, just like Belle would have. You will teach her to rise above the negative with a sharp mind and a grace all her own. Educate her about all parts of her heritage and teach her our differences make us stronger. Remind her every single day she is strong and beautiful, just like her mom. Tell her how proud you are of her and that you know Belle is proud of her too.”

  I pull her into my arms. Hugging Haddie comforts me, and I’ve been sorely lacking in that department for the last six years. With a kiss to her cheek, I move my hands back to her hips, and she moves hers to my thighs.

  “Thank you for saying all of that. I needed to be reminded I can do this.”

  “Of course, you can. It’s obvious how much you love Cadence. There isn’t anyone on this planet who will look out for her the way you will.”

  I nod and swallow over the lump building in my throat. “Anyway, I guess one saving grace is that after Belle passed away, the letters about her and I ceased. It can be a scary world at times, but typically the threats are harmless even if they’re shitty. The letters about Cadence were the worst, but they were also few and far between, to begin with – there haven’t been any in about two years.”

  “Thank God,” she whispers.

  “The point I’m trying to make is, people are always going to be assholes. I don’t live my life for them. I’m living my life for myself and my family. Yes, someone may say some negative things about you, but other people are going to say the most amazing things in return. You already know how I feel about you. I’ve already introduced you to my family, so this isn’t a game to me.”

  She nods. “Kiss me, Darren.”

  I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue until she parts them for me. As I bring my hands to her cheeks, I nip her bottom lip, and she whimpers. Our tongues meet and dance together slowly, licking at each other like the flames of a fire, our chemistry fueling the kiss. Each time we kiss, it’s with a deeper need than the one before. There is something to be said for the build-up of waiting. Noah was right about anticipation making things better.

  When we break apart, she looks up at me with determination. “This isn’t a game for me either. The media aspect is going to be my least-favorite part, but if I have you by my side, I’m all in.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m as sure as I’m going to be. I wish I could own my figure like other women do, and maybe I will one day, but it’s apparent you understand the articles may be hurtful—”

  “I understand completely. How about I make you a deal? For each article you see that makes you second-guess yourself, I’ll worship your body and make love to you until you no longer doubt how fucking sexy you are to me.”

  She inhales deeply, and her eyes flare with lust. “That would mean we need to be having sex.”

  I bring her hand to my aching cock. “I’m ready for that whenever you are.”

  “Sex with me may be something best done with the lights off.”

  “Dammit, Haddie—”

  She brings her finger to my lips to silence me. “I have scars from the accident, Darren. They’re not pretty.”

  “They won’t affect my desire for you.”

  “You say that now, but—”

  I shake my head vehemently. “Scars mean you survived. I know the significance of those scars because I lived it. We walked that journey with Mel, and it was so fucking hard. The two of you have a lot in common. You and I aren’t that different either. I’ll never be able to shake that night from my conscience.”

  I blink back my tears and try to push the image from my mind. “You don’t need the details. All you need to know is, I understand more than you think. You may hate your scars, and you have every right because you went through a traumatic experience. But don’t tell me I have to fuck you in the dark because you’re afraid. I will worship every single one of those scars. No matter how ugly you may think they are, they led you here to me,
and I’ll never fucking take that for granted.”

  12

  Haddie

  The air between us sparks heavily with passion and truth. I suck in a deep lungful of air and exhale. My hands tremble as I reach for his. Darren’s raw honesty slams down every doubt or fear I’ve had about us. Cut from the same cloth, we’re survivors of unspeakable trauma. It doesn’t matter that we haven’t known each other long, something greater than us brought us together for a purpose.

  “Take me to your bedroom.”

  “That wasn’t why I said what I did.” Sadness masks his features, and I tug his hand and coax him off the counter.

  “And I don’t want to go there to have sex. I want you to see, to understand, and to still be able to tell me we’ll be fine.”

  He looks at me wearily before pulling me down the hall and pausing at the door. “This isn’t going to change anything.” He kisses my head and opens the door to a room that’s probably bigger than my house. With the push of a button, the shades come down over the sliding glass door, and when I step inside the room, he locks the door behind us.

  My hands are shaking, but the only way to do this is to get it over with. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. His eyes immediately zone in on my lacy red bra and stay there while I kick off my shoes. He steps closer as I unbutton my jeans.

  “Let me.” Unzipping my pants, Darren drops to his knees and pulls them down my legs. I lift my feet so he can pull them free, and he caresses my calves and works his hands up my body. Reaching my lower thigh just above my right knee, he comes across the first scar. Halting his movements, he follows the scar with his eyes all the way up to my right hip.

  “Get on the bed and lie down, Haddie.”

  I do as he asks and am almost swallowed by his thick duvet. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt a more comfortable bed in my life.

  Starting at my ankles, Darren gently works his way up my legs again. When he reaches the base of the scar, I jump. “Is it painful?”

  “No, it’s a bit numb from the nerve damage and trauma. I don’t touch it often because it feels different, but you can. It just takes a minute for me to acclimate to the sensation.”

  This isn’t supposed to be sexual, but as he kisses his way up my leg and slides his hand along my inner thigh, it’s turning me on. He’s being a gentleman and not straying from the inside of my thigh, even though part of me wishes he would.

  “Is this the only scar?”

  “No, but are you sure you want to see the rest?”

  He climbs up my body and kisses me. “There isn’t a part of your body I don’t want to memorize.”

  I wore high-waist panties for a reason. They’re sexy and lacy but still cover the damage. “You’ll need to lower my underwear.”

  “It’s going to be an extreme pleasure.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” I caution one last time, preparing him for the worst.

  He tugs on my underwear until they’re barely covering my mound. As much as I don’t want to look, I raise my head to see how badly I repulse him. His expression softens as he sucks in a breath and meets my gaze. “There is nothing about you that is going to scare me away. Do these feel strange too?”

  “Sort of. They’re a bit ticklish but not as numb.”

  Darren traces the outer edges of my scars across my abdomen. Almost my entire stomach is affected; some areas are worse than others. One section is bulkier than the rest, almost like layers of scar tissue on top of each other. Some of the smaller ones could almost be mistaken for stretch marks.

  Darren hovers over me and places open-mouth kisses everywhere he sees a scar. When he finishes, he climbs on top of me and settles between my legs. I spread my thighs to accommodate him, and he brushes back my hair.

  “I’m still here, baby, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lowers his lips to mine. “You must have fought so damn hard. Can you tell me what happened?”

  I release him from my embrace, and he rolls to his side. I turn to face him, and he scoots closer, resting his hand on my hip. I start to pull up my panties, but he stops me.

  “Leave them. I want to see.”

  “Please, you don’t need to see my belly flab.”

  He tugs my lip between his teeth. “I want to see every sexy inch of you, but I understand if it makes you more comfortable.” He reaches between us and adjusts them. “I know we’ve pushed through a lot of boundaries today.”

  “Thank you.”

  He lightly traces my breast at the edge of the lace cup. “I’ll give you a condensed version and we can go deeper some other time.”

  “Deal,” he says, never breaking eye contact.

  “It was raining, and we were on our way home. Richie and I couldn’t stop laughing about some drunk guy who sat next to us at the bar. The man spent the whole night plotting ways to get his girlfriend back.”

  Pausing, I take a deep breath before I continue. “The truck hydroplaned, and my side of the truck hit the center divider, and then we banked off the divider and into a tree. It happened in seconds, but it seemed like hours.”

  I close my eyes and exhale as I try not to cry. “Richie died on impact with the tree. I was impaled by part of the car and parts of the tree. I was lucky there was a highway patrol car right behind us; they saw the whole thing happen. If they hadn’t been there …” My eyes meet his and I whisper, “I probably wouldn’t have survived.”

  He squeezes my hand. “I’m so glad you did.”

  “Me too, but I wasn’t at first.” I hate admitting that, but I want him to know the truth.

  “I had lots of surgeries, pain, post-op infections, secondary procedures, more infections. It could have been worse, but it wasn’t a walk in the park. They offered plastic surgery, but it was high risk due to the infections, and I didn’t want to go through more pain. There was part of me that felt I deserved to walk around with scars for the rest of my life because Richie died.”

  “You know it doesn’t work like that. It was an accident.”

  “My logical mind understands that, but my guilt was intense. I witnessed the instant life was taken from someone. That moment was more painful than any of my injuries. He was my world, and then he was gone.”

  Darren pulls us flush together and holds me. His comfort is exactly what I need.

  “Haddie, we’re on this journey to find our way together. We’re going to make amazing memories along the way, but moving on doesn’t mean forgetting.”

  “What do you think it means?” I ask, tracing a tattoo on his neck.

  “Living your best life in their honor. We remember them, we honor them, and we love for them.”

  “I like that,” I whisper as I trace Cadence’s name on his arm.

  “Me too, and I like the thought of doing it with you. Now, as much as I love lying here with you, my cock doesn’t understand the art of taking things slowly. Let’s go to the studio and see what’s going on.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  Darren leans in for a lingering kiss, and I melt under his touch.

  Once I’m dressed, I sit down to put on my shoes, and Darren takes a seat next to me. “I’ve been known to take things for granted in the past. It’s something I’ve worked hard to change since Cadence was born. In light of that, I want to thank you.”

  “Thank me for what?”

  “For being honest with me. That was brave, Haddie.”

  Heat washes over my face as he leans in to kiss my cheek.

  I wonder if he’ll still compliment my honesty when he finds out the one thing I can’t seem to talk about.

  Once we’re outside, Darren shows me around the property.

  “If you follow that trail over there,” he says, pointing toward Sawyer’s yard, “it takes you to a huge treehouse Noah and Sawyer used to play in as kids. Sawyer’s house used to belong to his grandparents, but he bought it when they passed away. The path also leads to a gazebo, and eventually
to a creek at the end. You can sit out here at night and listen to the frogs and crickets.” He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together.

  “They’re not worried about the kids playing in a treehouse?”

  “Nah, Sawyer had it rebuilt with all the necessary safety precautions. It’s a great place for the kids to escape and still be safe. Way better than vegging out in front of the T.V. or playing video games.”

  We stop in front of a swing set. “I’m sure they get good use out of this too.”

  “Oh yeah, and the pool. All the kids take swimming lessons, even the twins, but the gate is still a necessity.”

  I’m surprised at the size of the studio as we approach it. It has its own driveway and quite a bit of parking. I’m a horrible judge of space, but it looks like the size of maybe a six-car garage.

  “Wow, this is a literal studio. I don’t know why I thought it would be a room or a converted guest house or something.”

  Darren laughs. “We get that a lot. It allows the artists to enjoy a sense of privacy. This is technically horse property, which is why each street only has four to six houses. Being at the end of the cul-de-sac is perfect, and since Sawyer is my only neighbor, no one protested when we built it.”

  He steps ahead of me and punches a code into the keypad outside the studio door. When the latch clicks, he opens the door and motions me inside first. I blink at the change in lighting. It’s darker but still pleasant.

  A toddler playing with trucks on the floor of the reception area looks up when we enter. His eyes shining with excitement, he grabs a truck and runs toward us.

  Darren scoops him into his arms. “Brayden, my man. High-five, dude!”

  Brayden giggles and slaps palms with Darren.

  “Darren!” A petite woman with short purple hair stands from the couch in the corner and gives him a huge hug. “I was hoping I’d get to see you today. It’s been a while.”

  The baby reaches for her, and Darren passes him off and takes my hand. “Anna, this is Haddie. Haddie, this is Wyatt’s wife Anna and their youngest son Brayden.”