Defying Gravity: Shattered Cove Series Book 3

by A. M. Kusi

  It had to start somewhere. Shattered Cove seemed as good a place as any.

  Bently clicked open his browser and pulled up a list of books on racism and White privilege. TJ was right—it wasn’t his job to give Bently answers. Change started from within. The first step in battling ignorance and prejudice was identifying your own.

  Chapter 19

  Bently

  Pain radiated along Bently’s neck as his head snapped back from the blow.

  “Stupid, good-for-nothing, pussy boy. Man up! Get off your ass and face me like a real man. You think you’re so tough.” The growl of his father’s voice told him all he needed to know. If he didn’t get back up, his father would take out his rage on someone else. His mother, his little brother, or possibly his baby half sister.

  “Stop!” his little brother’s tiny voice yelled.

  Paul Evans turned his scowl onto Mikel’s five-year-old body. Bently shot to his feet, ignoring the throbbing ache.

  “Go to bed, Mikel!” Bently yelled.

  Mikel looked back and forth as Jasmine began to wail in their mother’s arms. She needed him to protect her too. Maybe if he was stronger, or smarter, he’d be able to get them to safety, away from the monster that was their father.

  Paul Evans took a swaying step forward towards Mikel. Bently tucked his shoulder and rammed into his dad. The man’s rage now focused on him, rather than the others.

  “You son of a bitch!” Paul screamed as he brought his fist down hard on Bently’s back again and again. Pain sliced through him.

  A sweaty hand grabbed his neck and pushed him against the wall. His feet dangled helplessly, inches from the floor. Bently grabbed his father’s wrists, fighting for a breath. Fear and anger mixed with the adrenaline pounding through his veins. The man’s unforgiving grip only tightened. The alcohol on his father’s rank body odor burned Bently’s nose, tainting the tiny bit of oxygen he managed to gasp. Maybe this would be the day his father finally killed him. No. He needed to live, if only to protect them.

  The ice-blue eyes of his father seemed to glow red with rage. “I hate you. You are good for nothing. Dirty bastard that you are, you’ll never amount to anything. You hear me? You’re nothing!” The edges of Bently’s vision darkened. He wasn’t strong enough. I’m gonna die and they’ll be next.

  The pounding blood in his ears didn’t fully drown out Mikel’s screams and Jasmine’s crying. A small hand pressed down on his father’s, making him release his hold. Bently crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath through his burning throat. He looked up in time to see his father’s hand slap across his mother’s face, leaving a scarlet handprint against her fair skin.

  He’d failed her. Again.

  Bently shot out of bed, gasping in fresh oxygen. His eyes scanned the darkened room, alert. His body buzzed from the adrenaline, and was slick with sweat. The only sound in the room came from the football game still playing on the television. He’d fallen asleep on the couch. It was just a dream. Just a memory.

  He shut the TV off and ran upstairs. He needed to clear his head. He’d start with a shower.

  ***

  An hour later, Bently sat at The Shipwreck downing his third whiskey for the night. He normally stuck to beer and limited himself to two drinks, wanting to be nothing like the man who shared half his biology. He’d prove that everything in life was a choice. Bently would be better. Despite what the monster had done to try to break him, he’d risen above.

  But tonight, Bently just wanted to forget. Because for the first time in a long time, he wished he could be someone else. Someone who could love and be worthy of love in return. He was too broken.

  Belle had made it clear she couldn’t be with him in the way he wanted without getting her heart involved. Bently may have been an asshole, but he wasn’t that selfish. He shook his head. He wouldn’t use her like that. She needed someone deserving of her, who’d take care of her. Someone who could give her a full life with everything she wanted. He wasn’t even fully a man thanks to fucking cancer. No woman who wanted a future would choose him if they knew.

  The small voice inside him whispered, She’ll leave you, once she sees what a failure you are. You couldn’t even protect those you loved most.

  His mother had killed herself, leaving them all alone with that monster. He hadn’t been able to get her out in time. His brother had even left without a word. Yeah, he was back, having faced his demons and found his happiness with Remy.

  Jasmine was the only constant in his life, but she needed him to watch over her, like he’d failed to do in the past. So many people depended on him, and he couldn’t afford another. His grip tightened around the glass as his thoughts spiraled. So many reasons to stay away from her.

  Claire Reed approached him, bottle of whiskey in her hand. “Would you like another?”

  He nodded. “Just fill ’er up.”

  Claire’s eyes crinkled at the sides. Her brow furrowed with concern, but she didn’t ask questions and did as he said. That was one thing he liked about Claire Reed—she kept her thoughts to herself.

  “How’s Finn?” he asked as she finished pouring.

  She smiled. “He’s hangin’ in there. Promised me some grandbabies when he gets back from deployment.”

  “He’s a good man.” Bently smiled, highlights of their shenanigans in high school playing a loop in his mind.

  Lieutenant Finn Reed, dressed in his battle dress uniform, stopping by the station to say goodbye before he was deployed. “Take care of my girl while I’m gone.”

  Charli’s swollen face flashed, sobering his thoughts. Another failure. He’d get the bastard eventually. “How’s Charli doing?”

  Claire sighed, wiping down the bar as she looked around them. He followed her gaze towards the few patrons with their backs turned away from them. “She’s hanging in there. Any leads on catching the asshole who did it?”

  Bently shook his head, drawing the glass closer. “Not yet. Camera catches the assault, but then he runs off out of view. Must have had a car waiting down the road. Too dark to make out his face or any distinguishing details. And the footage from inside had their faces obscured. The lighting in this place doesn’t help.”

  Claire shook her head.

  “I’ll get him,” he promised her, and she nodded once before she walked down the bar, tending to the other patrons looking for a good time.

  Bently tipped the glass to his lips, drinking down the alcohol until it didn’t burn anymore. The liquor’s warmth buzzed through his veins, easing the ache in his chest and clusterfuck in his mind. He’d have to let Belle go. That was the only way to keep them both safe.

  “Hey, baby. Looks like you could use some company,” a husky voice said from his side. He turned and the room spun with him. Was there one or two women in front of him?

  The old Bently would have said something witty and put his arm around her, or them. Then he’d go back to their place and fuck all night. But this Bently hadn’t been with anyone since the diagnosis. That was well over a year without the company of a woman. He hadn’t had anyone he was truly interested in, until Belle. She’d sparked something to life in him. If there was something he’d learned from the whole experience of being on death’s door, it was that life was short, tomorrow was never promised, and regrets would eat you alive.

  So, why not take a chance on Belle?

  “You okay, handsome?” the woman asked.

  “Yeah. Just tired. Gonna head home.” He stood, wavering on his feet. He was drunk for the first time in . . . forever.

  The blonde looped her hand through his arm. He hadn’t been clear enough.

  “I’m not in the mood for company tonight, but thanks for the offer.” He pulled his arm away from hers, unsteady on his feet.

  “You sure? I could do all the work.” She winked, seemingly familiar. Tina? Tanya? Tonya?

&
nbsp; “I’m sure. Have a good night,” he said, walking towards the exit. He’d sleep it off in his truck and then drive home once he was sober.

  Opening the door, he stepped out into the cold night air. He stared up at the dark sky, filling his lungs. Stars peeked out from behind clouds, defying the encompassing blackness with tiny sparkles of light. Hope.

  “Bent, you’re not planning to drive home like this, are you?” Mason asked.

  Bently shook his head, immediately regretting the movement. “Nah, gonna take a little nap in my truck.”

  “I’m sorry about leaving Charli that night. I should have . . .” Mason trailed off.

  “Ness time call me if you gotta leave. Let the other bouncssser know too. I don’t want Claire or Charli walking out here alone at night.”

  Mason nodded. “Already done. Won’t happen again.”

  Bently walked into the darkened parking lot, heading to where he’d parked his truck. He pulled out his keys as a burst of pain erupted across his back. He was shoved against his car from the impact before he fell to the ground. His head spun as he drunkenly tried to make sense of what was happening. Was this another flashback? He searched the darkness as he groaned in pain. A hooded figure stood above him, angry eyes boring into him, with a metal bat glinting in the moonlight.

  “What the fuck!”

  “You’re gonna pay, pig.”

  He lifted his hand to block as the bat swung and met his head with a crack!

  Everything went black.

  Chapter 20

  Belle

  Belle stretched her neck out, easing the kinks as she approached the nurses’ station. Sandy, the third shift head nurse, handed her a cup of coffee. “You’re almost there.”

  “I could kiss you right now.” She gratefully accepted the hot cup of blessed caffeine before she sipped it. The earthy warm liquid perked her up. Third shifts were killer when she was used to seconds. But she was the go-to woman when someone wanted their shift covered. She needed the money. TJ was going to get some grants and scholarships, but it still wouldn’t cover everything. He’d need an outrageous amount for books, not to mention she hoped she could cover it all so he could focus on the classes rather than balancing a job and college like she’d had to.

  “Patient in four needs an IV change and the one in two pressed the call button,” Sandy said with a smile.

  “So, the coffee was to butter me up, huh?”

  Sandy motioned to her leg. “These old knees are trying to make me retire before I’m ready.”

  Belle took another sip of the warm drink. It would be cold by the time she next got a chance to drink it. “I’ve got it.”

  “And that’s why you’re my favorite nurse in this whole hospital.” Sandy grinned.

  Belle smiled.

  “Though I’m not the only one it seems.” Sandy nodded to Doctor Stanley across the hall who was walking towards them.

  “I take my job seriously,” Belle whispered, clearing up the insinuation.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he greeted them.

  “Doctor Stanley.” Belle nodded. He was tall and handsome. All the nurses loved him. But he didn’t make her stomach flutter.

  “Please call me Rick.” He smiled.

  Belle glanced at Sandy’s smirk before she responded, “Sure. I’ve got some patients to attend to, but did you need anything before I go, Doc—uh, Rick?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  She turned and walked towards emergency room number two. After getting the patient a cup of juice, she went to room four. A child snuggled against her mother, an IV sticking out from her tiny arm. Belle tried to be as quiet as she could so as not to disturb the sleeping duo. She exchanged the bags and turned the lights down in the room. The mother’s arms held the child protectively, lovingly. A longing in Belle floated to the surface. She’d never had that, been the one to be held. She closed the door and made her way to the desk where Sandy still sat, rubbing her knee.

  “Do you want some ice for that?” Belle asked.

  “No. I’ll be fine.”

  “Sandy, can you help me in six?” Doctor Stanley asked.

  Belle patted her hand. “I’ve got it.”

  She made her way to the room and froze in the doorway. Her stomach turned to stone. Her heart pounded. Bently?

  The gauze around his head was soaked red with blood. His cheek was swollen and bruised. His eyes opened, locking on her. Surprise and then shame clouded over those cerulean-blue pools. The wall slammed into place between them.

  She swallowed. Get it together, Belle. You’re a professional. She walked to his side as the doctor put his X-rays into the lighted area.

  “Been a while since I’ve seen you in here, Bently. Wish it was under better circumstances,” Doctor Stanley said.

  “Me too, Doc,” Bently said.

  “Glad to hear you’re cancer-free.”

  What? Bently had had cancer?

  Bently didn’t look at her. It was as if he was pretending she wasn’t even there.

  “You made a good call and caught it in time,” Bently said.

  “Looks like you got a few bruised ribs. No internal bleeding. But you do have a concussion,” Stanley explained.

  “I would say you should see the other guy, but then again, I didn’t even get a good look at him.” Bently chuckled as if anything about this was funny. Humor was his defense as usual.

  “It’s a good thing your friend found you when he did. A concussion is a traumatic brain injury,” the doctor started explaining.

  “I know, Doc. This is not my first rodeo.”

  Belle looked closer at the X-rays. Healed fractures from old injuries were scattered across his ribs. Surely he hadn’t sustained all of those on the job.

  No. Something more sinister had to be at play.

  “You might have trouble with your vision, problem-solving, motor skills, and reaction time for a while. You need to keep yourself in a quiet dark room with absolutely no TV or phone screens for forty-eight hours. You’ll also need someone to help take care of you. No driving.” Doctor Stanley crossed his arms.

  Bently’s fists clenched.

  “Your CT scan showed negative acute injury and no orbital or facial fractures. You got lucky.”

  “This pounding headache doesn’t feel so lucky.” Bently winced.

  “You might be nauseous and unable to walk unassisted for a while. Best to rest and let your body heal. You can’t rush these types of injuries into getting better or you could end up worse in the long run,” Doctor Stanley said firmly.

  “Alright.” Bently waved him off.

  “Belle here will dress your flesh wounds and we’ll monitor you for a few more hours. You should arrange for someone to pick you up. Did you want us to alert someone on your team?” Doctor Stanley asked.

  Bently grimaced. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Alright. I’ll be back to check on you.” Rick left them alone.

  Belle bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Anger rolled off him like waves lapping the shore, each one stronger than the next. She pulled out the tray and laid the items she’d need on the portable table. He closed his eyes, giving her freedom to study him as she prepared. Her heart ached seeing him like this.

  “I’ll need this off,” she said gently, pulling open the hospital gown and lowering it to the bed. His broad bruised chest was exposed. The defined planes of his muscles rippled with strength. The ache in her chest grew. Angry black and purple bruises marred his olive skin.

  “I’m going to wrap your ribs.” She explained each step as she carefully took care of his wounds.

  A myriad of other scars covered his body. Every time she touched his skin, he winced.

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be gentle,” she said softly as she peeled away the gauze around his head.
/>   He remained silent. Jaw tense, and his face hard.

  She leaned in to clean the wound on his head, preparing it for sutures. His breathing sharpened as she coasted the gauze over the dried blood. “What’s your pain level?”

  “I’m fine.” His voice was scraping and raw.

  “Your ribs are bruised and you have a concussion. I’d say you’re far from fine.”

  His hand darted to hers, grabbing her wrist as his eyes snapped open. “I don’t need your pity!”

  She gasped, flames licking up her arm from his firm grasp. Was that what he thought she saw when she looked at him?

  Belle had her fair share of stubborn patients, but no one spoke to her like that. Her eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have any for you, then. As your nurse, I’m responsible for your care. Pain management is part of that.”

  He dropped her hand and sighed before nodding.

  “On a scale of one to ten, what is your pain at?”

  “Four,” he grumbled.

  Probably more like a nine, then. She shook her head. Stupid macho men.

  “If I had known you wanted to play nurse and patient, I wouldn’t have bothered with the hike. I can do role play.” He winked.

  A crack in his façade, his words pierced her heart nonetheless. Was he trying to cheapen their experiences? Those moments where his kind heart had shone through—was she supposed to believe they were all because he wanted to sleep with her? No, it was his brass reminder of where the lines were drawn between them. Bently was scrambling to find anything to distance her from him. As if she couldn’t see how utterly shattered he was. Whatever he kept buried was eating him alive.

  “Should I call your brother?” she asked.

  “Nah. Don’t want to wake the kids and Remy.”

  So that meant Jasmine was out too. “How about Andre?”

  Bently shook his head and grimaced. “He and Mia are in California.”

  “Okay, who should I call to come get you, then?”

  “I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll get a taxi or something,” he grumbled.