by Nia Arthurs
That’s all I need.
Is that too much to ask? Will I never have my dreams realized because my last name is Jameson?
My heart tugs at my ribs, shredding and melting like wax.
I step closer to the man who shares my eyes and call on the last card that I have. “Dad,” I plead, “if you care about me and Glory at all, stop this. Just keep on doing what you have been. Don’t make things confusing and complicated for her.”
“It’s the truth.”
“It’s not the right time. She’s just starting to get better. She’s excited about possibly going to school and doing things that she couldn’t before.” My breath hitches when I recall how she had screamed with delight when the doctor told us she might be good enough to go to school like ‘regular’ kids. “Please, dad. I’m asking you to be satisfied with what you have. Don’t ruin her life because of your greed.”
Anger crackles in his eyes and a flush spreads over his cheeks. “Is it greed to have my own child live with me? Is it greed for me to do what I want for the first time in my life? Glory is mine. She belongs to me. I appreciate all you’ve done for her, but neither you nor your mother can tell me what to do.” He squares his shoulders. “I will no longer feel suffocated in my own house.”
“Bringing Glory here will suffocate her too.”
“Or it will set me free.” Dad leans back and takes a calming breath. When he opens his eyes, I see the determination clear in them. “Since it’s obvious that you don’t want to do this the easy way, let me explain exactly what I want.”
“Dad…”
“My lawyers will draft up the lawsuit and it will be delivered to your door.”
“Stop…”
“If you don’t hand Glory over legally and easily, she will be removed by force.”
“You can’t do this.” My fingers push firmly into fists.
“Starting with the farmhouse, I will dig up and expose every failure in your life. I will tear you down in any way imaginable. I will drag you through the mud until Glory herself believes it’s better to stay with me.”
Anger wraps around my throat and chokes me, but I still hold myself back.
Dad pats my shoulder. “After you’ve calmed down, you can come and visit your sister anytime you want.”
It’s the last straw.
My restraint breaking free, I haul my arm back and punch my father in the face.
Twenty-Nine
Brenna
Rushing downtown in this traffic is brutal. I wish I could urge my taxi faster, but I’m stuck in the backseat while the world slowly creeps past me. Horns honk loudly and angry grunts erupt from the other drivers itching to get home after a long day.
Too impatient to wait, I pull out my phone and send Heath a text.
ME: Can we talk in person? I’m heading to my office.
He doesn’t respond and I wonder if that’s on purpose. I can’t imagine what must have gone through his mind when he caught me in a lie.
I need to talk to him.
But there’s something I have to do first while I have the courage.
At last, the taxi slows to a stop in front of Kastle’s building. I hop out and run like mad to the elevator.
Smashing my fingers against the button, I tap my leg and wait for the doors to open.
A second passes.
Two.
It feels like a lifetime until the elevator lands.
I fling myself inside the empty space and brace my hands on the bars bracketed on the flashy silver walls. Sweat slicks the sides of my palms. My heart thunders like a jackhammer gone off the handle.
I’m going to do something crazy for the first time in my life.
Ding!
Sprinting down the hallway, I crash into the office I share with Kaelyn and blurt, “I need to talk to you.”
“So do I.” Kaelyn flashes a big grin and gestures to the women sitting in the office.
My eyes bug. “Make It Marriage?”
“Hi.” Kayla waves, looking elegant as always with a sleek ponytail and a flattering pantsuit.
“Hi.” I awkwardly return the gesture. Turning to Kaelyn with a grimace, I mutter, “I didn’t know they were here.”
Venus arches an eyebrow. “Are you okay, Brenna?”
“Did you run here?” Amina gestures to my chest. “You’re breathing hard.”
“I’ll go get you some water,” Nellie says, jumping up and scurrying down the hallway. Her long, black hair swings like a pendulum. As she pumps her arms, her crop top inches up to reveal her smooth dark skin.
“You don’t have to…” But she’s already gone. I whirl on Kaelyn. “What is Make It Marriage doing here?”
“They’re partnering with the blog.”
“As… sponsors?” My jaw drops. “That’s huge.”
“Kayla kept saying how much she wanted to work together, but we could never hammer out the details. She recently reached out with an idea. They’re trying to get more clients and since our blog caters directly to a prime demographic…”
“Oh.”
“Aren’t you glad I’m drumming up business?” Kaelyn slings her arm over my shoulder. “A few more of these partnerships and we can move out of here.”
“Of course.” I lick my lips. “Kaelyn, can I talk to—?”
“You’re trying to move?” Venus smirks at Kaelyn. “Already tired of Kastle?”
“I’m in no rush.” Kaelyn waves her arms in my direction. “It’s Brenna who’s concerned about my productivity in this building.”
“Should I take a stab at guessing why?” Venus’s eyes twinkle with mischief.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kaelyn twirls a braid around her finger.
Amina laughs. “How Kastle gets any work done with you sneaking into his office every chance you can get is a miracle.”
“Hey, he’s not complaining.” She winks. “And we get work done. Just not… paperwork.”
“Kaelyn, I need to talk to you about the farmhouse,” I insist. “It’s important.”
Kayla offers a friendly smile. “We heard about that, Brenna.”
“Did you?”
Tierra nods. “Kaelyn told us all about how you faced down a wrecking ball and fought with this awful contractor.” The slim woman rolls her eyes as she presses a hand against her large afro puff. “I wouldn’t have the patience, girl. I find what you do so admirable.”
“Kaelyn told us you’ve been researching day and night. You deserve a win.” Amina grins.
“Yeah, about that. Kaelyn—”
“One of the main reasons we decided to go with this blog for our first advertising opportunity is because of the work you’re doing.” Venus lifts her head and, for the first time, her eyes are serious. “So many people brush off these things thinking it has no impact on the present, but I still remember going to my first museum and feeling connected to a long, vibrant history. It’s important to teach the next generation that as much as we struggle, we rise too, you know?”
“I know.” I nervously adjust my collar.
It’s why I started this.
Why I stayed true to this path despite the fact that it’s riddled with obstacles.
It’s why my decision to turn my back on my principles is taking everything from me.
“We wanted to be a part of the work you’re doing.” Amina glances at Kayla. “Plenty of other businesses are clamoring to partner with us, but we love that you’re doing something so important, and it’s a vision we want the Make It Marriage name attached to.”
“Right.” Kayla gives a nod of approval.
“We were thinking of sharing the farmhouse story with our followers on social media.” Venus tosses her coily, reddish-brown hair and makes herself comfortable in the sofa. “The hearing’s on Friday, right? We could all come. Maybe film it.”
My eyes dart between them.
They’re offering a sponsorship.
Exposure.
Momentum for the cause.
&nb
sp; If I give up the farmhouse, I don’t only lose the chance to preserve history, I lose a financial opportunity that my business desperately needs.
“That’s a great idea!” Kaelyn vibrates with excitement. “Isn’t it, Brenna?”
“I—” My mouth opens. Slams shut.
Emotions roll in my chest.
The Make It Marriage women stare intently at me.
They’re all waiting.
All expecting me to be happy. To celebrate.
Amina frowns and asks hesitantly, “Is there a problem?”
“The farmhouse…” I grit my teeth. I’m giving up the case. The words bunch up in my head like someone crumpling wads of tissue paper. I can’t seem to get them out.
“What about it?” Kayla tilts her head.
“They moved the hearing up to Thursday,” I mutter. The words are bitter on my tongue.
A rock weighs on my heart and my head sinks with it.
“Oh, no problem.” Venus crosses her legs. “We can adjust our schedule.”
“You think Elizabeth will want to come too? She has a day off,” Amina says.
Tierra grabs her phone. “I’ll see if Asia’s into it too.”
“This’ll be my first court hearing,” Nellie says with excitement in her voice as she enters the room and hands me a cup of water.
“It’s not exactly a ‘court hearing’,” Kayla explains. “Brenna’s just going to stand in front of the city council, offer her evidence and explain why the farmhouse should be preserved… my goodness, it is just like a court hearing.” Kayla laughs. “Hopefully, it won’t be as boring as one.”
“We can make up a cheer or something,” Venus says. “Spice it up for when Brenna wins.”
“I’ll have my camera ready to capture that glorious moment,” Kaelyn promises me.
“Have I mentioned how awesome this is?” Tierra grins.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Awesome.”
Venus leans forward. “Enough about that. Brenna, I hear you and Heath have a thing for storage closets.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“Venus,” Kayla warns.
“What? I’m not judging her. I think it’s hot.”
Nellie giggles.
Kaelyn pulls her lips in, but her eyes flash with mischief. “Should we invite Heath to the hearing too?”
My heart burns.
I feel like the walls are closing in on me.
Like the ground is shaking.
At any moment, I’m going to fall through the floor.
Right then, my phone chirps.
Heath’s here.
I glance at the ladies, my eyes darting around guiltily. “I’ll be right back.”
Scurrying out of the office, I rush through the hallway and meet Heath as he’s turning the bend.
He stops and stares at me, green eyes assessing. A hard tilt to his jaw. Fingers tightly fisted.
The tension pulls tight.
What we want and what we can’t have simmers between us.
Heath moves toward me.
His steps are firm and loping.
Those gorgeous eyes don’t leave mine for a second.
I meet him in the middle.
My heart fills with conflicting emotions.
I want to hold on, but I can’t.
My gaze slides down and I catch a glimpse of his bruised knuckles. Concern fills me and I snatch his hand. “Are you okay? Did you fight with someone?”
“I met my dad today.” His eyes darken when he looks at me. “Is there anything you want to say?”
My body stiffens like a board.
Guilt fuses my lips shut.
Maybe this is better.
Maybe if I let him think I’m working with his dad, he’ll hate me a little less.
Because it’s better to say that I was coerced by his father than to admit it’s all me.
My own ambition.
My own stubbornness.
My own fear.
Letting his hand go, I lowered my head. “I’m sorry, Heath.”
“You were right, Brenna.” His voice hardens. “We shouldn’t have started this.”
“Heath, I—” Just then, I hear footsteps thudding down the hall.
The Make It Marriage women.
Panicking, I glance around and find a storage closet nearby. Grabbing Heath’s hand, I drag him inside and shut the door. He stumbles into me, his presence filling the tiny space and his solid body pressing me into a shelf.
I lift my chin slowly as the voices outside get louder and louder.
His eyes burn into me.
I see passion and anger.
Love and lust.
Pain and heartbreak.
He’s killing me.
And I’m killing him.
Our chests brush against each other. Lightning snaps everywhere we touch. His head lowers until his nose grazes the tip of mine.
A tear slips down my cheek. “Please.”
I don’t know what I’m asking for.
What I want.
All I know is that I’m hurting.
And so is he.
And we can’t be together.
But I wish it could be that simple.
Our lips collide.
My fingers dig into his neck and down his back.
He pushes me harder and harder into the shelf.
I don’t feel pain.
Only guilt.
Only love.
Only confusion.
Heath pulls back and stares at me. “You really think,” he grips my chin, “that I won’t take everything from you the way you’ve taken everything from me?”
“I never asked—”
“You don’t ask,” he snaps. “You give. This.” He slaps his chest. “I gave it to you.”
“Then I’ll break it.”
A growl works its way out of his chest before he surges forward and kisses me again, knocking my head back into the shelf. My legs rub against his. My fingers slide under his shirt, nails rasping his abs.
Insistent.
Untamed.
Furious.
He turns me around so my back is to him. A wild current splits the air, promising chaos and disaster.
“Please.” I gasp.
This time I know what I’m asking for.
Heath’s zipper moans loudly as he yanks it down in reply.
Thirty
Brenna
My fingers grip the shelf and I hiss, spiraling into light and exploding from the inside out.
Heath.
No words.
We say nothing to each other.
But it’s still loud.
Still angry.
His grunts. My moans. Shelves banging against the wall. Wet rags slapping and squelching on metal. The rattle of fabric fresheners. The slam of cans and cleaners.
Flesh and metal collide.
Faster.
Faster.
I try to muffle my scream, but Heath senses it and kisses me so roughly I end up crying into his mouth. I end up shuddering harder than the Lysol can that’s dancing on top of the iron shelf.
Pleasure tears through me. It’s not asking my permission.
Not like the last time.
The last time, it gently fell around my shoulders. It patted my back and asked if I wanted something to drink. It covered me like a warm jacket on a cold snowy night.
Tonight, pleasure is violent. Fingers around my neck and my waist, digging in. Pushing my head forward. Dragging me around.
Wicked.
Vengeful.
A growl.
A bite.
Animals.
The mess of bottles and cleaners scattered around us is evidence. The scratches on Heath’s neck and shoulders. The hoarseness of my voice. The cloying scent of sweat and vanilla from the air fresheners.
I let the storm take me. My body goes limp, fingers still on the shelf, legs still spread and my drawers still clinging to my ankles like chains. I’m open and empty and wrun
g out tighter than that rag drying on top of the bucket.
Heath’s weight presses into me and he grunts loudly.
The cans spin around and around.
The shelf steadies itself.
I’ve fallen off a cliff and straight into the depths.
But it feels like the world is still whirling.
Imploding.
Exploding.
Heath buries his head in the crook of my shoulder and neck.
His world explodes too.
Only it’s quiet.
Contained.
Not like me.
But I can tell.
Hot breaths. Slick bodies. Sweat on the back of my neck.
His sweat.
Mine.
I suck in a deep breath as the light behind my eyes fades. The darkness of the storage closet comes into view. Pressed up against the shelf like this, I’ve got an intimate view of the rust on the rim of the cans. I see every dried-up liquid on the nozzle. Some of the cleaning solution drips down the can, sliding down the leg of the shelf.
My heart is beating so fast I can hear it in the silence. I try to hold myself up, but I can’t find the strength. My fingers struggle for purchase on the shelf as I clamor to put more of my weight on it, so I don’t collapse.
I won’t give Heath the satisfaction of watching me melt.
No.
I need to stay strong.
Firm.
It’s over.
It’s over.
That’s the only way I walk away from him with my heart intact.
His big, pale hands reach past me. “We’re talking now.”
“No, we’re not.” My voice is scratchy. Raw.
Heath sounds serious. “Brenna.”
“You need a minute?” I wiggle my hips and notice that he doesn’t. “Round two?”
“You can barely stand up.” He presses a kiss to my neck and tightens his hold on my waist.
“I can.” I stubbornly pry his hand off. The moment he lets go, my knees decide to go on strike, and I start falling.
Heath catches me and drags me flush against him. “I know you’re working with my dad. I’m not going to ask why, Bren.”
“You’re wrong.” I turn around. Stare into his green eyes. Right here, in this moment, I can’t lie anymore. “I’m not working with him.”