Richmond-Banks Brothers 1: A Hopeless Place (BWWM Interracial Romance)

by Coco Jordan

  BENNETT

  “Ow,” I said, breathing through gritted teeth as I sat up from our makeshift wooden bed the next morning.

  Amara sat up immediately and rubbed my back with her delicate hands. “You all right?”

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek before pulling myself to a standing position and helping her up, as well.

  “We have a lot to do today,” I said, stretching. “Let’s make this place a home. I was thinking all night. We need furniture, obviously, but we also need dishes. Pots. Pans. Curtains…”

  “Slow down,” Amara said with a grin. “We’ll get to where we need to be. Why are you rushing this? Let’s enjoy it. You wasted a lot of precious sleep time thinking about that stuff.”

  “My mind never shuts off,” he said. “I think you’re rubbing off on me now.”

  She laughed, stepping in and slipping her arms around me. “Sorry.”

  I ran out to the car to grab my duffel bag, which contained my medications and nebulizer. After freshening up, we headed out to breakfast, then to a big box store where we filled two grocery carts full of various home goods and groceries.

  That afternoon, we stopped at a local furniture store where I gave Amara free reign to pick out a kitchen table and living room set, and she gave me the honor of choosing our ultra-plush, ultra-lux marital bed.

  “Can this stuff be delivered today?” I asked the salesman.

  He paused and bit his lip, clearly afraid of losing the sale. “It’s usually a few days out.”

  “I need this stuff today,” I said, pulling out my wallet and slipping him a hundred dollar bill.

  “I think we can work something out,” he said, stuffing it in his pocket before anyone saw.

  “We need to plan our honeymoon,” Amara said as we crashed that night on our brand new leather sofa.

  “Where would you like to go?” I asked her. She was lying back against my chest and the scent of her lavender shampoo filled my lungs.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “You’ve done so much for us already. Maybe someplace local. Nothing too expensive.”

  “I was thinking Paris, or maybe London or Tokyo,” I mused. “There’s so much I’ve never seen.”

  “Tell me you’ve at least been to Disney World,” she said.

  “Never.”

  “Seriously? What about the Statue of Liberty or the Grand Canyon?”

  “Nope.”

  “Have you been anywhere?”

  “I was never allowed out of the house,” I explained. “I was always too sick, and when I was better, my mom claimed she was worried I’d get sick again, so I always had to stay there.”

  She reached up and stroked my hand, warming it beneath her palm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Amara, my entire life has been spent behind the walls of that God-awful mansion. I never want to set foot in there again.”

  “You never have to go there ever again,” Amara said, wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye. “I give you my word. And if you want to spend the next year traveling, if you want to take a honeymoon to someplace crazy, then that’s what we’re doing.”

  I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight and saying nothing as I leaned back into the buttery leather of our new sofa. At the end of the day, dishes were unpacked, groceries were put away, and furniture had been delivered and arranged. We were officially home. That was all that mattered.

  Next to the crackling of the fireplace, we drifted off to sleep. I woke hours later to a pitch black living room with a cold, burned out fire.

  “Amara, let’s go to bed,” I whispered, ushering her back to our room where our new, plush bed awaited us. We sunk into the mattress, which was much like sleeping amongst a billion tiny feathers, and buried ourselves deep under the downy duvet, our windows cloaked in blackout curtains.

  “So, how about that honeymoon?” Amara said at noon the next day when we finally got around to waking up.

  “Can’t decide,” I said as I climbed out of bed, helping her out. Our bed was tall and huge, and it damn near swallowed her up.

  “Do you want to go somewhere intellectual with museums and historical places? Or would you prefer sand and sun?” she asked as we headed toward the bathroom to freshen up.

  “I kind of wouldn’t mind seeing you in a bikini,” I said with a wink. She swatted my arm.

  “You’re so naughty.”

  “You’re my wife,” I said with an innocent shrug. “I can say things like that now, right?”

  She laughed and reached for her toothbrush, handing me mine. Married life apparently suited us well. We were naturals.

  “Why don’t we do something simple for now?” Amara said, her mouth full of bubbly toothpaste. “There’s a little cabin on a lake that my family used to go to. It’s so peaceful there. I need an escape right now. No chaos. No crazy tourist attractions. Just you and me.”

  “That actually sounds nice,” I said, picturing a scene from a painting. “Maybe while we’re there we can figure out our travel plans for the next year.”

  “Brilliant,” she said, spitting her toothpaste into the sink. Anyone but her would’ve made it look disgusting, but she pulled it off. She rinsed her mouth and tapped her toothbrush on the edge of the sink before standing on her toes and leaning over to kiss me. “I like the way you think. I knew there was a reason I married you.”

  By the time I finished, she was perched at the kitchen table, finishing up a phone call. “Great news! I got us a cabin. We can go tonight, if you want. It’s at the end of Lakeshore Drive. Private. Newly renovated. Full plumbing. Even comes with its own dock and paddleboat.”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  “Bennett, you all right?” she replied, her face falling a bit. “You look pale. Do you need to sit down? Have you taken your meds yet today?”

  “I was just getting ready to,” I said, feeling the rumbling in my lungs. “We got up late today. I guess I’m a little off schedule.”

  I walked over to the kitchen cabinet where my meds were stored, but Amara leapt up, grabbing the bottle from my hands.

  “Give me that,” she said, popping the cap and spilling them into her hands. “There are way too many in here. You haven’t been taking them like you should.”

  “We’ve been busy,” I replied, reaching for a pill. “It just slipped my mind.”

  She clenched the handful of pills in her hand, her dark eyes pleading with me. “Take care of yourself, Bennett. I need you. I can’t live this life without you. Please don’t neglect your health just because you’re happy and feeling good right now. We have so much more life we need to live.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said with a chuckle. She was too intense. “It was an honest mistake. Won’t happen again. Now, can I have my pills?”

  She softened a bit and unclenched her palm, shoving it within my reach. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t forget on purpose.”

  I rubbed her back as I dry-swallowed my meds. “Guess we should start packing.”

  AMARA

  The drive up to Lakeshore Road came back to me with ease. Every stop. Every turn. Every road sign and shiny green mile marker—it was as if none of it had ever left my memory despite it being several years since my last visit.

  “We’re getting close,” I said, reaching my hand over to take Bennett’s. He’d been so quiet and reflective the entire drive, but I assumed he was just taking in the scenery.

  We stopped at the main cabin at the top of the road and ran in to check in and grab our keys.

  “This place brings back so many memories,” I said with a nostalgic sigh as we entered our cabin. “We came here every summer as a kid. Smells just how I remember, too. Is it weird that I sort of like that musty smell?”

  “Maybe a little,” he said, smirking. “I get it though. You have happy memories here. Thanks for wanting to bring me here. I know this place is special to you.”

  “I can’t imagine not sharing this place with you.” I sat my bag down on a dusty s
ofa. “I just hope you love it as much as I did.”

  Bennett’s eyes scanned the room before he walked around, opening doors and familiarizing himself with the place. Coming in at around five hundred square feet, it was practically the size of his old bedroom.

  He plopped his bag down in our bedroom and threw himself on the bed, a cloud of dust blowing up from around him.

  “Apparently, no one stays in the last cabin on the left,” he said, coughing.

  “I guess they don’t clean here too often,” I added, disappointed and hoping he’d still give it a chance. I climbed onto the bed next to him, curling up in my favorite spot under his arm.

  “You tired?” I asked when I saw his eyes flutter.

  “Tired? Yes,” he said as a grin formed on his face. “But not too tired, if you know what I mean…”

  My heart began to race. I knew exactly what he meant. Although having him take me against a wall was hot and all, I was craving more. It wasn’t enough.

  “You mean like this?” I teased, slipping my hand down inside the waistband of his pants. I leaned down and kissed him, slipping my tongue around his. “Or like this?”

  My hand gripped around his hardened member and a throaty moan escaped his lips. “Mm hm. Yes. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  I climbed on top of him, tearing off my top as he began to caress and fondle me. Within minutes we found ourselves naked again, only this time I was on top of him, straddling him with my arousal aching to be touched. As if he could read my mind, his steady fingers worked their way between my thighs and massaged me before slipping inside. Firm yet gentle pressure picked up in intensity, setting my nerves on fire and building to what I knew would soon be an epic finish.

  After a few minutes, he leaned down, gripping himself and positioning his cock below me as I lowered myself onto him.

  “Ah,” I sighed as I slid down, my hands gripping his chest. I began to rock back and forth, lifting my hips with an intense rhythm as he filled me. He leaned up a bit and gripped my hair from the back of my head, tugging hard when he was getting close.

  “Come with me, Amara,” he sighed moments later. “I’m so close.”

  I relaxed my body and let the wave of ecstasy wash over me as he filled my insides. When he was good and done, I pulled myself off of him and curled up into his warm embrace as we caught our breaths and let our damp, sticky skin dry.

  “How do you do that?” I asked, breathless.

  “What?”

  “Make me feel like that.” I rested my hand upon my heaving chest.

  “It helps to have a smoking hot wife.”

  A smile spread across my lips. He sure knew how to make me feel sexy, something at which Spencer failed miserably. I turned my gaze toward him. He was beautiful in a way that words couldn’t express. I thought about telling him that, but I could never find the exact right words to describe what I saw when I looked at him, so I kept it all inside.

  “What are you thinking about?” Bennett asked after several long, quiet minutes. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “I just love you, that’s all,” I said.

  “I love you too,” he replied, sweeping the hair out of my eyes. “More than you can possibly imagine.”

  He rolled onto his back and took his gaze off of me for a moment, and within seconds, he’d passed out.

  I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was only five. We’d only been awake a mere five hours that day. I couldn’t understand why he was so fatigued, but I let him sleep. As long as I could hear him breathing, I refused to worry too much.

  I covered him with a blanket from the foot of the bed and tiptoed out to the kitchen to make dinner. I tried to be quiet, but the inevitable rattling and clinking of pots and pans and utensils in the cozy cabin stirred Bennett from his short nap.

  “What’s for dinner?” he asked as he strode out, raking his hair back into place. Shirtless and his jeans low around his hips, he was all man, and he was all mine. I smiled as I thought about making love to him again later.

  “Spaghetti and garlic bread,” I replied, stirring the sauce. “Nothing fancy.”

  “I can’t expect coq au vin every night, Amara,” Bennett said, walking up behind me and slipping his hands around my waist. “It’s fine.”

  As the noodles boiled and the sauce simmered, Bennett trudged over to a chair in the living room and took a seat, as if he’d aged fifty years in those few short steps.

  “Why are you so tired lately?” I asked, nibbling on my nails.

  “I guess I’m not used to this much excitement,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Just feeling extra tired today. That’s all.”

  “Do we need to go and get you checked out?” I asked him.

  “No,” he quickly objected. “I just need to sleep. I’ll go to bed early tonight. I’m sure I’ll feel fine in the morning.”

  We ate our dinner in silence with Bennett struggling to stay awake and me not taking my eyes off him for a second. He finished half his food and trudged off to the bedroom to go to bed. It was barely six.

  I tried to stay up and enjoy the peace and quiet, burying my nose in a book under the faint glow of a tall lamp, but I could think of nothing but my husband. My mind was on the beautiful life we were about to create, carving our own destiny, and how all of it could be swept away in the blink of an eye.

  You signed up for this, I told myself as hot tears welled in my eyes. You married him, and you promised to love him come hell or high water for all of his days, no matter how numbered they may be.

  I sat the book down and tiptoed into the bedroom, stripping my clothes and crawling into bed with my Bennett. He woke just enough to open his eyes halfway and wrap his arm around me. I pressed my body against his as close as it could possibly get.

  “Bennett,” I whispered.

  “Yes?” he replied, half asleep.

  “I think you have a fever,” I whispered as his skin burned to the touch.

  “I’m fine,” he said, squeezing me tighter and nuzzling his head into my neck. “Go to sleep.”

  I climbed out of bed and grabbed the stethoscope I packed. Hunched over him, I pressed it against his back to listen to his lungs. Raspy breaths and a steady heart beat. Nothing seemed unusual.

  I waited until his steady breathing told me he was sleeping once more before rolling over to watch him. I’d watch him all night, if I had to.

  BENNETT

  By morning, I awoke feeling refreshed, energized, alive. Amara woke me that night to tell me I had a fever, but I was quite sure she was just being paranoid. She worried about me too much, and I sort of loved and hated it all at the same time.

  “How you feeling?” Amara asked as I walked out to the kitchen. The smell of pancakes, eggs, and bacon filled every square inch of our tiny cabin. “I’m making you a traditional camping breakfast.”

  “Good,” I said. “I feel like a million bucks.”

  She smiled, clutching her free hand to her chest as her other hand flipped the eggs. “Thank God, Bennett.”

  The bags under her eyes indicated she’d been up all night watching me.

  “Are you up for a little hike today?” she asked. “There’s a small trail. It’s not too hilly. It’s really beautiful.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, taking a seat at the kitchen table and staring out the picture window that faced the lake. The still waters hadn’t a single ripple, as if the day had not yet touched it.

  We hiked Amara’s trail as she rambled on about family memories and funny stories. There was the time she caught a bull frog and slipped it into her sister’s bed. There was the time her mom caught a catfish and got stung. Then she reminisced about catching fireflies and listening to the crickets at night.

  After a small hike, we headed back to the house where an early spring thunderstorm rolled in.

  “I don’t want to go back,” Amara said as she curled up in my arms on the sofa. Rain trickled down the tin roof above us, providing a soundtrack of tin
ny pings.

  “We can stay as long as you want,” I said, rubbing her arm and leaning down to kiss her soft cheek. “We’ll come back anytime you want, Amara.”

  “I don’t want to go back to Halverford,” she sighed, tracing my collarbone with her finger.

  “We just bought a house,” I said. “We can’t leave yet. Besides, we won’t be there much anyway with all our traveling this year.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, perking up. She jump up off the couch and ran into the bedroom, returning with a notebook and pen. “I brought this so we could make a list of everywhere we want to go.”

  She flipped the notebook to a blank page and immediately started writing. “Paris. Tokyo. London. Hawaii…”

  “New York,” I added. “Sydney. Rome…”

  We rattled off anywhere and everywhere, filling two pages front and back with cities and countries and landmarks we wanted to see. Maybe it was unrealistic, but in that moment, it was real to us. We were doing it, and no one could stop us.

  Two more days in the cabin and we decided to head back to reality. After loading the car and heading down the highway, Amara’s phone started to ding the second we hit the interstate and her cell service returned.

  “Whoa,” she said, pulling her phone out. “I have a bunch of text messages and voicemails.”

  She pressed a couple buttons and put her voicemail on speakerphone.

  “Amara, it’s your mother,” the first message said. “Bennett’s family is looking for him. Do they know you guys got married? I didn’t want to say anything.”

  “Amara,” the second message said. “It’s your mother again. I’m beginning to worry. You guys aren’t home. Dad and I just drove by your house. I don’t know where you are, but Bennett’s family thinks we’re lying when we say we don’t know. I hope you don’t mind, but we told them it was okay to call your cell.”

  “Uh, yes,” the third message began to play. “This is Sterling Richmond-Banks, Bennett’s father. I’m looking for my son. I need to speak to him, and it is extremely urgent.”

  Amara tossed the phone in my lap. “You need to call your dad.”