Safe Space (Book 1)

by Tiffany Patterson

  “A’ight, you may have a point. That is delicious.”

  “I told you,” I gloated. “Can I have a dozen, six in two separate boxes, but make three of them in one box the vegan ones?”

  “A dozen?” He grinned.

  “Don’t judge me. Anyway, you said you were stopping by your mom’s later, so one box is for her, and the three vegan cookies are for Gabby. She loves this place too,” I explained.

  “You’re buying cookies for my mom?”

  I shrugged. “I just thought you’d like to take them over to her. Who doesn’t like cookies?” I went to hand cash to the clerk behind the counter, but was stopped by Xavier’s arm.

  “I got this,” he said as he handed the clerk his card.

  “Why? It’s supposed to be a gift.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll tell her it’s from you.” He tossed me a wink.

  I grabbed the boxes from the counter. “Fine, but I’m eating the rest of that cookie.” I snatched the one he’d taken a bite of.

  “That’s fine. I ate your cookies last night anyway.”

  My eyes bulged, and I nearly choked on the bite I’d taken. I couldn’t even respond before we were interrupted.

  “Ms. Chanel!” I heard my name and turned to see a familiar face.

  “Noah?” I’d remember that face anywhere.

  “Hi!” He waved before looking over at Xavier. He scrunched his face, as if trying to recall where he remembered Xavier from.

  “Noah, where’s your mo—?”

  “Noah! You know better than to run off—” Anne Marie’s scolding abruptly stopped when she noticed Noah was talking to me. “Chanel.” Her voice was full of surprise, and then I saw panic rise in her eyes. Her eyes slid over to Xavier as he stood beside me, and the recognition on her face was immediate.

  “Anne Marie, how are you?” I questioned, bringing her attention back to me.

  “She’s fine,” a male voice responded.

  The man appeared to be about five-eight, dark brown hair, medium build. He looked a few years older than Anne Marie. He was handsome, but the look in his eyes told me he could also be dangerous. I knew this was Michael, Anne Marie’s husband—the one she’d called me late at night to escape from.

  “And you are…?” Michael asked, directing his growing suspicion toward me.

  “Xavier Grant,” Xavier answered, although the question was directed at me. “And this is Chanel.” He stuck out his hand for Michael to shake, moving slightly in front of me. That move both pissed me off and made me feel grateful at the same time. Michael begrudgingly shook Xavier’s hand.

  “How do you know my wife and son?” He again posed that question to me.

  I looked at Anne Marie, whose eyes were filled with a fear I was all too familiar with. She’d pulled Noah by his shoulders against her front. He’d gone quiet, as if he sensed the tension among the adults.

  I smiled what I hoped looked genuine and answered, “We met a few months ago here at the farmer’s market when Anne brought Noah for one of the children’s events. I was with my niece and nephew.” I felt Xavier’s entire body go rigid at the lie; I squeezed his hand in mine when he gave me an are you serious? look.

  Michael stared at me for a few moments, then took a quick glance at Xavier, who was still slightly in front of me. He appeared mollified by that answer when he exhaled and wrapped a possessive arm around Anne Marie’s neck.

  “Yeah, she’s always bringing him to one thing or another. Says it’s good for his adjustment, since he still an only child. But we’re working on that, right, Anne?”

  She winced when he asked that, but quickly schooled her face to one of pleasantry when Michael turned to look down at her.

  “Yup,” she responded. “N-Noah would like another brother or sister.”

  Noah’s eyes were downcast. He didn’t even look up at the mention of his name, totally unlike a child his age. Trauma has a way of changing one’s psyche that way. I’m sure by now, he knew the best way to avoid his father’s ire was to become as invisible as possible.

  “I bet he would. It was good to see you, Anne Marie. Hopefully, I’ll see you and Noah around. It was nice meeting you,” I said to Michael.

  I tightened my grip around Xavier’s hand, signaling that it was our time to depart. It took a few nudges, but eventually, he turned to head for the exit. I willed myself not to turn back and look at Anne Marie or Noah, although it pained me to walk away.

  ****

  “What the hell was that!?” Xavier yelled once we got in the car.

  I didn’t even look over at him. I closed my eyes and counted from ten backward down to one, before opening my eyes and facing him.

  “That,” I pointed over my shoulder at the place we just exited, “was me trying not to get a woman killed.”

  His face crinkled into confusion and anger. “How the hell was that? You saw the look on their faces. They’re scared as fuck of him. And we’re just going to pretend like he isn’t beating the shit out of his wife? What if you’d been by yourself? I saw the look he gave you before I stepped up.”

  I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “He wouldn’t have done anything to me.”

  “And how the fuck do you know that?”

  I rolled my eyes skyward, hating this conversation. Hating that I knew all too well the inner-working of abusers.

  “I just know it.” I didn’t want to explain all the details of my knowledge.

  “That’s not good enough. How the hell do you know what that man is capable of? How do you know he wouldn’t have hurt you on the spot?”

  “And what would you have had me do? Confront him on the spot?”

  “Of course not. Call the police? You know that man is abusing his family.”

  A sarcastic laugh escaped my throat, and I shook my head in disbelief. “You think it’s that easy, huh? Call the police? Or what? Why can’t she have one of her male relatives handle him for her, right?” I’d heard all those suggestions too many times to count.

  “Well?” He looked at me as if that was exactly what Anne Marie should’ve done.

  “You don’t get it,” I shook my head.

  “Explain it to me. Why can’t she just fucking leave?” His voice was heated.

  “Do you know the many ways abusers manipulate their victims?” I began feeling my anger rise. “Do you know they spend months—hell, even years—isolating their partners from family and friends, so they have no one to turn to in times of need? Abusers don’t hit victims on the first date. They wine and dine and are some of the most charming people you will ever meet in your life. All of that gains trust, all the while slowly gaining control over their victims. By the time the first hit does come, victims believe it’s their fault. So they try to behave better, dress more conservatively, not talk back, not get the attention of other suitors as to not set off their abuser’s jealousy. Anne Marie has been with her husband for years. She’s a stay-at-home mom, which means he has control of all the finances. She feels trapped—exactly how he wants her to feel.”

  Xavier’s jaw clenched as he thought it over.

  “So yeah, just telling her to leave sounds simple, but do you know when the most dangerous time in an abusive relationship is?” I fully turned to make sure I had Xavier’s full attention, waiting for him to look at me.

  “When the victim tries to leave. It’s the time when an abuser feels most compelled to act out violently, because they’re losing control. Nine times out of ten, when a victim of domestic abuse is killed by their partner, it happens when the victim finally left and tried to move on with their life. And in Anne Marie’s case, it’s even more critical because she has a child with him. That increases the likelihood of violence and even death. So no,” I ran my hand through my hair, turning from Xavier to look out the windshield. “I didn’t tell Anne Marie to leave or call the police because I don’t want her or Noah to die.”

  I pressed my back against the seat, feeling depleted after that explanation. I closed my eyes, w
aiting for Xavier’s response. It was quiet for a long moment until I heard the car start and we began pulling out of the parking lot.

  I was too exhausted to open my eyes after that exchange. I was also worried about Anne Marie and Noah. It’d been nearly two months since I’d last heard from her, right before she left the women’s shelter. I saw the look of fear in her eyes when Michael asked how we knew each other. I feared what Michael would do if he found out I was a divorce attorney. I was afraid of it all, and I’d been fearing for her in the two months since I’d last spoken to her. Carrying the burden of fear was tiring, so after I’d spilled all that to Xavier, I felt drained.

  Eventually, I did open my eyes, looking over at the man in the driver’s seat. His jaw clenched in a way that looked almost painful. I looked out the window to notice we’d passed the exit back to my place.

  “Why’re we headed back in the direction of your home?” I questioned.

  “’Cause I want to spend the rest of the day with you.” His voice was low, filled with something I couldn’t pinpoint.

  “I thought you were going to visit your mom today.”

  “I can go see her tomorrow.”

  I teased, trying to lighten the serious mood, “Are you trying to kidnap me?”

  He simply grunted and kept driving.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Xavier

  Yes. No. Shit, maybe I was trying to kidnap her.

  I didn’t know. I just knew that after what I saw back at the farmer’s market, my biggest fear became that she’d get another late-night call for help, and I wouldn’t be there to either stop her or intervene. Last time I didn’t know what I was getting into, but having looked in that man’s face, and knowing how he treated his wife and son, I knew damn well I wasn’t letting Chanel try to run up in that type of domestic dispute to rescue someone again. Not without me.

  “Come with me to my mom’s.” It wasn’t a question, but I didn’t want to make her feel like I was forcing her to come, even if I was. All I knew is that I wasn’t letting her out of my sight for the rest of the day.

  “Okay, and then you’ll drop me off home afterward?” she asked cautiously.

  “Nah, then you’ll spend the night with me again.” I looked over at her out of the corner of my eye.

  “Xavier, I have to go to work in the morning.”

  “I can drop you off.”

  “I don’t have clothes to wear to work, and how will I get home from work?”

  I ran a hand down my face, sighing. “We can stop and pick up a change of clothes on the way back. I’ll pick you up from work tomorrow.”

  “X, that makes no sense.”

  “Xavier, and so?” I shrugged.

  She gave out a little laugh, and for the first time since we left the farmer’s market, I smirked a little, feeling slightly less tense.

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  “Cool.”

  ****

  “Thank you for the cookies, Chanel. I love that place,” my mother smiled as we entered her newly renovated home.

  “You’re welcome. Your home is beautiful, Ms. Grant. Xavier told me about the recent renovations.”

  My mother gave me a pleasant smile she usually reserved for me as we followed her down the hall to the dining area. I heard my mother and Chanel making conversation about the farmer’s market and what we were having for lunch, but my head wasn’t in it. I was still stuck on the conversation we’d had in the car. Where Chanel told me to mind my damn business concerning her client. And truth be told, I was more than happy to do that, if her ass was going to stay out of it. Because as far as I was concerned, her business was my business. I wasn’t about to let her run out in the middle of the night playing captain save a victim or whatever.

  But that wasn’t even what had me in my head throughout lunch with my mother. It was the conviction and way she spoke about what abuse victims go through. How the hell did she know all that? From working with them, perhaps? But my gut was telling me it was more than that, and I sure as fuck didn’t like where my mind was going.

  “Are you all right, son? You seemed distant during lunch.”

  I peered down into the concerned eyes of my mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek. We were standing on my mother’s porch as Chanel sat in the car, letting us say our goodbyes in private.

  “I’m good, Ma. Just a lot on my mind.”

  “Work?”

  I nodded. “You know how it is.”

  She gave me that prideful smile she always gave me when I mentioned business. “You’ve always worked so hard. I’m proud of you, son.”

  It wasn’t anything my mother hadn’t told me at least a million times before, but it always gave me joy to know I made my mama proud.

  “So, you and Chanel,” she gestured toward my car where Chanel sat. “It’s getting serious.”

  I turned to my car and stared at Chanel’s profile as she looked down, probably at her phone. When she raised her hand to move her hair behind her ear, I swallowed deeply.

  “It’s…” I cleared my throat. “It’s going well,” I hedged.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t think about getting too serious with anyone right now, however. You’re so busy with work, always traveling. Plus, Chanel is Jason’s sister. If things go wrong between you two, who knows the type of repercussions it could have for your friendship. You don’t want to part ways with your best friend over this.”

  My gaze shot back to my mother. I tilted my head as I gave her a perplexed look. I was stunned. My mother had seemed to enjoy Chanel during lunch. The conversation was endless, without all that much input from me. And as proud of my career as my mother was, she was constantly hounding me about settling down and finding someone to share my success with.

  “Where is this coming from?” I asked, sticking my hands in my pockets.

  Her eyes skirted around, first over my shoulder, presumably looking at Chanel, then around the yard, and finally back to me. “I was just thinking. Chanel is lovely, don’t get me wrong. She’s smart as a whip, a successful career in her own right, independent but caring.”

  “All qualities you’ve taught me to look for in a woman,” I countered.

  “Right, but I’m just concerned. She seems a little flighty. She’s only been back in Houston less than a year, and who knows if she’d want to pick up and move again? Are you willing to move?”

  “Ma,” I shook my head. “You’re taking this way too seriously. We’re still in the getting to know each other stage. I’m not going to ask her to marry me anytime soon,” I stated, wondering why those words felt like sandpaper coming out of my mouth.

  She nodded. “Okay, okay. I just wanted to give you something to think about. I’m sure it will all be fine,” she brushed it off, grabbing my shoulder for me lean down so she could kiss my cheek.

  Although she tried to play it off like it was no big deal, I wondered what the hell that was about as I strolled to my car.

  “That was fun.” Chanel turned and smiled as I got in the car. Whatever the hell it was, the softness in her eyes, the way her whole face lit up as she looked at me, or if it was the way my entire body reacted to that damn smile, the conversation I’d just had with my mother faded completely into the background.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chanel

  “Oh shiiit, Xavier!” I moaned as Xavier drilled into me. My left leg was pushed up against his shoulder while my right leg was tightly locked around his hip, held securely by his chiseled arm. My arms were above my head, held by his other hand. Marsha Ambrosius’ “Your Hands” played on repeat in the background.

  “Why...are...you fucking...me...like this?” I panted, unable to catch a breath. This was our second round of the night. He’d been like a madman since we’d gotten back to his place from our afternoon out. He looked down at me with such an intense and penetrating look in his eyes; I knew he was trying to convey something with his body that his mouth either wouldn’t or couldn’t say.

  “Lo
ok at me!” he growled when I tried to close my eyes, the pressure in my womb and the intensity of his stare too much to take in. He hiked my leg up even higher, pushed my other leg from around his hip down to the mattress, so I was spread eagle. He raised his hips and pulled almost all the way out, pausing. I opened my eyes to see those coffee brown eyes looking right into me, into my damn soul, as he sank into me with force so strong, the entire bed shook as it slammed against the wall.

  “Ahhh!” I yelled as my orgasm crested. Everything in front of me went hazy as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My back bowed off the bed, my hips convulsing uncontrollably, but Xavier got going, pistoning in and out of me, his hardness continuing to my G-spot. And my orgasm just kept going and going, until I felt as if I was floating.

  I don’t know how long it took for me to come back to myself, but when I did, Xavier was there, hovering over me, watching me. I panted, trying to regain control over my breathing.

  “Who was he?” His face was so serious, so stern.

  I barely remembered where the hell I was. All I could focus on was the look in his eyes and the harshness in his voice.

  “Wh-what?” I asked, still breathless.

  “Who the fuck was it? Who hurt you?”

  The little bit of air I had in my lungs was stolen again with those questions. “What-what are you talking about?” I tried to lower my arms from above my head, feeling more vulnerable than I wanted to in this position. His hands remained locked on me, keeping mine where they were.

  “What nigga put his hands on you?”

  I gasped, wondering how he knew. No one knew, except Gabby. “N-no one. What are you talking about?” My voice rose and I wiggled my arms, trying to get free. His grip loosened, but he still held my arms above my head against the pillow.

  “You know a hell of a lot about abuse victims. Who was it?”

  I turned my head, looking out to the rest of the room, willing the tears that wanted to make an appearance not to. “No one. There was no one. I’ve just worked with a lot of women who’ve been abused,” I lied smoothly, hoping he would accept it.