by A. M. Kusi
He shrugged. “Didn’t know what you’d like.”
“This is perfect,” she said before biting into the turkey sandwich.
After they’d finished eating, Belle said, “Tell me about yourself.”
He drained the rest of his drink before answering. “My favorite food is also Italian and my favorite color is green. I am the oldest of three and I like to hike in my spare time.”
She shook her head. “Is Jasmine your half sister?”
An uneasiness tumbled in his belly. “Yeah, same mom.”
“Are your parents still alive?”
He shifted in his seat and picked at the wrapper of the water bottle. “No.”
After a beat of silence, she shared, “I have no idea who my father is, or TJ’s for that matter. I was seven when he was born. My mother wasn’t exactly capable of taking care of us, so I stepped in. I have no idea if she’s dead or alive, but she’s not in our life and that’s a good thing.”
He swallowed. She’d said so much and yet left so many questions swirling in his mind. He’d experienced personally how incapable and downright toxic some parents could be. His gaze flashed to the collar of her jacket where he’d seen the scar earlier. The thought of this beautiful woman being hurt made his body hum with anger. His fists clenched, crunching the plastic.
“Was your situation similar?” she pressed.
Yes. No. “You want to know my childhood story so you can figure me out, Doc? Are you really a nurse or a shrink?” He forced a laugh. When he glanced up, she wasn’t smiling.
“How do you ever expect to get to know someone if you always hide behind that mask of humor?”
His breath stalled. She’d scared the shit out of him. He slipped into the role that came so easily. His voice dropped lower as he gave her a look that usually worked on women. “Oh, I could think of a few creative ways to get to know you.”
She shook her head, disappointedly. For some reason the idea of letting her down made his stomach sink like a rock. But the look that flashed in her eyes grated across his skin. Pity.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively.
“If you can’t be vulnerable with someone, how do you ever expect to share a lifetime?”
“Isn’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle black?” he snapped.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I already admitted my faults. This is me being open with you, sharing about my past. I haven’t had many friends before, but isn’t this what friends do—share?”
He swiped a hand through his hair and sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not the marrying kind.”
“What makes you say that?”
He needed to get her off his back. To stop asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. The woman had an uncanny ability to push his buttons and find the weak spots in his defenses. Bently had to push her away, keep her at arm’s length. “I’m the playboy of Shattered Cove, or haven’t you heard?”
She shook her head, disappointed with his answer again.
“Why does this matter to you anyway?” he asked.
“Because no matter how many times you say you’re my friend, the way you look at me says different.”
He leaned in, his eyes locked on hers in this battle of wills. “And what exactly do my eyes tell you?”
She moved closer so that their faces were only a few inches apart. Her sweet breath whispered across his lips. “That you want to strip me down. See me like so few men have.”
His jaw clenched at the thought of another man touching her.
“You want my body, and I’ll admit . . . I want you too.”
He swallowed, hope and lust swirling inside. Yes. He needed to have her and get this out of his system. This woman was driving him mad with desire. Spinning him so out of control, he gripped her face just to ground himself. That was the wrong thing to do. Her soft skin against his rough palms was gasoline onto the burning chaos raging inside him. Her breath quickened, lust and want darkening in those brown-sugar eyes. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
“Bently.”
His name on her lips was his breaking point. He leaned in, swiping his lips across hers softly, gently at first. Energy crackled, want obscured his vision as he kissed her like he’d never kissed before. Overpowering and staggering. Roaring need lit him up, his body glowing red hot from the inside out. Fireworks and explosions rocked through his body as she moaned. He cursed the wooden table between them as he pulled her face closer, tasting the seam of her lush lips with his tongue. Lust blanketed him as he tore his mouth away, searching for a hidden alcove. He needed this woman right the fuck now. If kissing her was this beautifully devastating, being inside her was imperative.
She looked up at him, dazed and glassy-eyed as if lost in the smoky fog of lust herself. He shot to his feet and tugged her hand. Belle resisted.
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this, Bently. We can’t . . .” The fear flashing in her eyes poured over him like a bucket of ice water.
Shit. He’d moved too fast. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted . . .”
“I did.”
A rush of relief washed over him.
“But that’s the problem,” she said.
“I don’t follow. If you want me and I want you, then what’s the issue?” he asked, confused.
She licked her lips, no doubt tasting the traces of him. “You’ve made it clear you’re not a relationship type of guy. But I can’t separate feelings from sex.” Her voice trembled. She wiped at her eyes before the tear that had welled there could fall.
What have I done? He ran a hand over his rough stubble. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t plan on trying to . . . I . . .” For once in his life, he wished he could be that guy—the one who could love. The one who wasn’t screwed up and damaged beyond repair.
She placed her hand on his cheek. “I wish I could.”
The statement staggered him, nearly brought him to his knees. Belle was one of a kind. Strength and grace oozed from her pores, radiating from her like warm sunshine. Belle was too good for him. This woman was better off staying away. She’d only end up like him in the end—broken.
Chapter 16
Belle
Belle parked at the library, then texted TJ that she was there. Her thoughts drifted back to Bently and that kiss for the millionth time that day as she waited. His lips had felt like destruction and rebirth all at once. Her body had come alive in what seemed like the first time in her twenty-four years of life.
The back door opened and TJ threw his backpack in before climbing into the front seat.
“How was your day?” she asked, shifting into reverse. She backed out.
“Fine. Just can’t wait to be done with all this.” He sighed.
“You’re almost there. Then you have college to look forward to.”
“Do you mind dropping me off at the Hope Facility in the city? I can take the bus back,” he asked.
“Is that the place that Bently suggested?”
TJ nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to check it out.”
“Okay.”
He plugged his earbuds in and rested his head against the seat, closing his eyes.
He worked so hard. They’d never had another choice. Seeing him become such an incredible man after all they’d been through brought a swirl of pride to her chest.
She turned the radio on. The same band played that she’d heard in Bently’s truck.
After their lunch, he’d kept his distance—careful not to touch her unless he was helping her in and out of the truck. The unease was eating at her. She may not be able to repeat that incredible kiss, but she still wanted to remain his friend.
Something about the man tugged at her heart. His hidden scars only evident for those that
knew what they looked like personally, those like herself. Belle might not have all he wanted, but she could offer him what he needed most—a friendship from someone who knew what it was like. She smiled as a plan took form in her mind.
***
An hour later, she walked into the sheriff’s office, cup of coffee in hand, and a box in the other. An officer came over to her with a blank stare and scowl on his face. “Bail bonds are one floor down.”
“I’m not here to post bonds. I’m here to see the sheriff.”
His gaze narrowed on the items in her hands before shifting back to her.
“Do you have an appointment, dear?” an elderly woman asked from a desk to her left.
Belle turned to the woman. “No. But would you mind telling him Belle is here to see him?”
The officer to her right scoffed. “Listen, lady, this is a place of work. What are you doing here?”
Who the fuck did this man think he was? Sneering at her like she was less than the dirt under his feet? She turned and eyed his name tag. “Officer Parsons, exactly what do you think I am doing here?”
His face reddened as Betsy spoke into an intercom.
“What are you doing here?” Parsons repeated.
A door opened and Bently’s surprised voice asked, “Belle?”
She turned from the officer and walked to greet Bently. She smiled. “I brought a peace offering.”
He ushered her into the office, closing the door after her. A beat-up antique of a wooden desk sat in the center. A small bookshelf lay against the wall in between several metal file stands. Warm sunlight filtered in through the large bay windows off to her left. A few plaques and commendations hung on the wall in the otherwise sparse room.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, taking a seat across from her at the desk.
She handed him the coffee and box of pastries with the yellow sticky note on top that read Cop food.
His eyes studied the note and a grin broke through the nervous air in the room. “Ahhh, she can be funny too.” He chuckled.
“Cops like donuts, right?”
“One assumption you got right about me.” He winked.
She relaxed into the chair across from him. “I just thought I’d return the favor. Remy told me which ones you liked.”
“Oh, great. Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I made it clear I needed a treat for my friend.” She waited for his reaction.
“Coffee was a good call. Thanks.” He sipped from the paper cup, his expression giving nothing away.
“I was wondering how the investigation over Charli was going? Have you seen her since?”
His brows drew together and his tone grew serious. “I can’t really share any details about an ongoing investigation with the public. I can assure you I take what happened very seriously. I don’t stand for women being hurt and the perp getting away with it.”
Something about the way he said it told her Bently Evans took those sorts of crimes personally. Why did he feel the need to be everyone’s knight in shining armor?
“As a friend, I can tell you she’s managing. Reed is coming home soon, and I think she’s just waiting to really fall apart until then.”
“He’s deployed, right?”
Bently nodded. “Army.”
“That’s got to be tough.” She looked down.
“How’s TJ?” Bently asked.
“I dropped TJ off at the Hope center you mentioned.”
“Oh yeah? I think he’ll like it there.”
“I wish he could make some friends. I’ve seen him with this one kid at school, but something about him is just . . . off.”
Bently squinted. “What do you mean?”
“Being around those types long enough, it becomes second nature to spot. You learn real quick to trust that gut feeling.”
His eyes darted to where she rubbed the small scar on her neck absentmindedly.
She dropped her palm to her lap. Questions reflected in his eyes, but he held back. Again.
“Tell me the guy that hurt you got what he deserved.”
Belle looked at her hands before focusing on him. “I think you know that in real life the bad guy doesn’t always get his deserved judgment.”
His gaze darkened. The silence between them was almost deafening, the air charged with warning.
“I’d better go.” She stood at the same time he did.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said, coming to her side and opening the door. “Thanks again for the coffee and donuts.”
She smiled and walked out on shaky legs, wishing she’d never known what his lips felt like on hers. Then she could pretend it wasn’t the most world-shattering experience she’d ever had. Then she wouldn’t be longing for his touch. Then she wouldn’t be disappointed with the reality that she’d never get to feel it again.
Chapter 17
Belle
“Take that!” TJ’s voice rose, waking Belle from her nap. She shifted the covers to glance at the clock. Five o’clock. She’d slept for two hours.
TJ’s laugh echoed up the stairs as she walked to the bathroom to relieve herself and brush her teeth.
A low chuckle accompanied his. TJ has a friend over. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her sleep-mussed hair was wild. She wiped under her eye, erasing the last trace of makeup from her skin. Her finger pressed against the thin scar on her neck. Shame and helplessness washed over her like a rogue wave. Spinning, she tumbled back to the ghosts of the past, the men who’d used her.
“You belong to me.”
Voices rose downstairs, overshadowing the ones in her mind.
She clamped her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “I’m safe. I’m free. I’m calm,” she repeated the affirmations until the heaviness lifted from her shoulders.
The memories were like a dark shadow looming in the background, waiting for the opportunity to jump out and try to drag her back down into the abyss. She couldn’t afford to be depressed. TJ needed her. She was all he had. She’d learned early on that, in order to survive, you had to keep going—no matter what.
“Ahh, you think you’re so slick hiding back there. I see how it is.” TJ was in some sort of competition, probably playing the video game that hardly ever got touched. She’d got it for him in hopes it would help him take a break from always studying. He deserved to be a teenager without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Belle’s stomach grumbled. Dinnertime. She pulled on her black high-waisted leggings and adjusted the off-the-shoulder crop top—her go-to comfort clothes.
She grabbed her phone off the nightstand in her bedroom before heading downstairs.
“You in the mood for lasagna?” she asked, not looking up from her emails.
“A woman after my own heart.”
Her head snapped up as she stumbled down the last step, awkwardly catching herself on the railing at the last second.
Bently winced. “You okay?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“Got ya!” TJ yelled triumphantly next to Bently on the couch.
“You cheater. I was distracted,” Bently argued, standing and setting the gaming controller on the couch. His eyes caressed every inch of her body.
TJ shrugged. “Hey, a man has to play to his advantages. Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off my sister.”
Bently smirked. His blue eyes shone as he winked at her. “I believe I heard something about lasagna?”
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked, amused.
Bently placed a hand over his stomach. “Why, thank you for the invitation. I would love to.”
Belle rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Need any help in the kitchen?” Bently asked.
A pang of something unfamiliar fli
tted through her chest. But if he kept looking at her like she was what he wanted for dinner, there was no way they could cook in that small kitchen without her combusting.
She shook her head. “No, I got it. You two have fun.”
“Best out of three does the dishes after dinner,” he said to TJ as he resumed his place on the couch.
Belle got to work, pulling out her homemade sauce as the oven warmed up. She layered the pasta, meat, and cheese with fresh herbs. Sliding it into the oven before she brewed a pot of coffee. The sounds of laughter and trash talk bounced between TJ and Bently.
A flash of movement in the window drew her attention. The reflection staring back at her was smiling. Her fingertips pressed against her cheek. She’d been doing that more and more lately. She bit her lip. A crush—that’s all this is. He’d made it clear he couldn’t give her a romantic relationship. Why did that feel like such a loss? Didn’t you have to have something before you could feel it missing?
She poured herself a cup of coffee when it was ready and added some hazelnut creamer. She fixed two others, one with cream and sugar, the way TJ liked it, and then left one black for Bently. She brought it to the living room, carefully setting it on the coffee table out of their way.
“Thank you,” Bently said, making eye contact before he focused back on the game.
TJ had a carefree grin spread wide on his face. He didn’t ever get to do this—have a grown man giving him attention. She went back into the kitchen to grab her coffee and her book before returning to the living room to sit in the chair beside them. She flipped to her bookmark and got sucked into the book.
This story was riveting and real. The characters’ emotions so raw, she’d felt like she was them. They’d both had so much to work through. Everything seemed to be designed to tear them apart, and it had. But as she closed the book on the last chapter, they’d found each other again and what’s more—hope.
Setting the book aside, Belle drained the rest of her cold coffee and tucked her feet underneath her. Still reeling from the ending, her eyes stung from the tears that wanted to fall. She blinked to keep them at bay as she looked up. Bently stared back, the look in his eyes somehow different than any other time. There was lust there for sure, but also a flash of something else. His gaze was like quicksand, pulling her in deeper. Stirring and blurring the lines she’d so carefully lived her life by. The intensity of need coiling inside her was threatening to snap.