Defying Gravity: Shattered Cove Series Book 3

by A. M. Kusi

  “You can’t go home alone with a concussion.” She could help him. She might be the only one who could. He’d spent his life protecting others, but who protected him? If this man thought he could push her away when he needed her most, he had another thing coming. After all, what were friends for?

  Chapter 21

  Bently

  His head pounded like someone had put a jackhammer to it. The lights had been dimmed in Bently’s hospital room, and the meds had kicked in somewhat, but it wasn’t enough. He tried to sleep, but then he’d catch a whiff of her cocoa butter while she quietly checked his vitals or whatever the hell it was nurses did every hour. He could sense her nearness as she made her rounds through the emergency department like they had some sort of string tethering them together.

  Now she’s seen me at my fucking lowest.

  She’d run, taking the choice he’d been struggling with away from him. He was powerless again. He’d been helpless when that person had beaten him, leaving him for dead. Why had he drunk so much?

  Because I’m weak. I’m like him.

  He was angry at himself for his lapse in judgment, lack of control. Furious with the man who’d jumped him. Was it the same one who’d smashed his windshield? His chest ached as he tried to suck in a tormented gulp of oxygen. The heavy weight on his chest made it impossible. He just wanted to escape. Needed to let this pain out before he burst. He grasped for some semblance of control as his world spun out of order. The craving to run away was like acid on his frayed nerves. It was all he could think about.

  The machine next to him started beeping, aggravating his headache like tiny spears. Pain radiated and throbbed from his forehead to his neck.

  Soft cool hands touched his. “It’s okay, Bently. Just take deep breaths. In for four seconds, and out for four.”

  He tried to do as she said. The angel to his darkness. His guiding light. Everything hurt, but the ache in his chest overpowered them all. Belle had seen his charts—she’d know what cancer he’d had and the fact that he was now infertile. She’d have seen the X-rays, the record of years of abuse in black and white.

  “How’s our patient, Belle?” Doctor Stanley asked.

  Bently opened his eyes, not wanting anyone else to see him in such a state. He shoved it all down like he’d always done. “Ready to go home, Doc.”

  The doctor nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Belle has the paperwork about concussion care and for your stitches. I’ll send you with a pain script, but as I said, you’ll need someone to stay with you around the clock for at least forty-eight hours, longer if possible.”

  “No worries,” Bently said.

  “You might be nauseous for a while. The headache could last for a week or so. You feel funny or get concerned, you come right back here. Okay?” Doctor Stanley asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Alright, then. You’re good to go. Did you have someone waiting to pick you up?” he asked.

  “I took care of it,” Belle interjected.

  Stanley looked at Belle. His expression softened. “Of course. I never doubted your capable hands for a moment.”

  The man had checked her out every time they’d been in the room together—he could use a lesson in subtlety. Bently’s fists clenched as the doctor left the room.

  Belle pulled a wheelchair up to the bed.

  “That better not be for me,” he said, harsher than he’d intended.

  Belle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You heard the doctor. You can’t walk unassisted.”

  “He didn’t say I was an invalid. I can walk.” Bently shuffled his feet to the ground, his head going dizzy with the abrupt movement. Belle’s competent arms wrapped around him.

  “Men,” she grumbled, and he couldn’t hold back the small smile that tipped the corner of his mouth up.

  He stood carefully. She pressed her side against his as they took slow steps towards the exit. “Did you call Mikel?”

  “No.”

  “Who’s coming to get me?”

  “You’ll see. You like surprises, right?” she said.

  He chuckled, but winced from the pain. His head was pounding and his balance off-kilter like he was swimming through a dense fog. Her closeness only added to the dizzying effect. They turned to the double doors to the well-lit parking lot. It was still dark.

  He stumbled and swayed, but her grip only tightened.

  “I’ve got you,” she promised.

  He searched the parking lot for any signs of his family. She led him to her beat-up Ford Focus and opened the door.

  “Are you trying to kidnap me?”

  “You need round-the-clock care, remember? Now, my place or yours?” she asked in a no-nonsense tone as she opened the door and guided him inside.

  He’d wanted to hear those words from her, but not under these circumstances. His head was throbbing and he shivered. His bloody stained pants and this flimsy scrub top weren’t keeping him very warm.

  He sighed. “Mine.”

  That way she could drop him off and go on her way.

  She reached across him, her face inches from his. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his muscles, taking shallow breaths so as to not aggravate his sore ribs any further. He stole her exhale as Belle pulled the seat belt across his chest, carefully.

  ***

  Belle supported him as they walked into his house. There was no way they could both fit up the staircase side by side, so he reached out to the wall to steady himself. Her soft touch grazed his back, blistering his skin. He got to the top of the stairs and tripped. His hands flew out as they landed on the wooden floor. He groaned as pain lit him up from the inside out, his ribs throbbing.

  “Which bedroom is yours?” Belle reached out to his arm and helped pull him up.

  At least she wasn’t asking stupid questions like how was he doing. But damn! He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, much less the woman he . . . wanted. Frustration built as he stood, grasping the edges of the doorframe to his room. She reached inside and found the light. He slammed his eyes shut at the visual intrusion.

  “Fuck! Shut it off,” he growled.

  “I just need to see where everything is so I can help you. Keep your eyes closed and I’ll lead you to the bed.” She was asking him to trust her.

  He did as she said—it wasn’t as if he had a choice. The back of his legs hit the bed and he sat down, gingerly.

  “Do you have any candles?”

  “Check Jasmine’s old room. First one on the left.”

  Belle disappeared, rustling through what sounded like drawers before she returned. “Okay, you can open your eyes if you want. Which drawer has your pajamas?”

  “Just go, Belle. I can take care of myself from here.”

  She huffed. “I’m not leaving you alone. You need help. You’re my patient and my friend. You said yourself you don’t have anyone to call at this hour, do you?”

  She wanted to take care of him? The thought made his heart splinter. But his pride reared its ugly head, sending a new wave of anger. He was at his weakest, powerless and helpless. There was only one reason this woman would stick around—she pitied him.

  His eyes snapped open. “I said to go. I don’t want you here. I can take care of myself!”

  Belle’s features hardened under the soft light of the few candles placed around the room. Her hazelnut skin glowed as she stepped closer. “You’re human, Bently. Just because you need help, doesn’t make you less of a man.”

  She’d fucking read his thoughts.

  “We both know you won’t ask for help, so I’m volunteering so you don’t die in your sleep. You want to leave Jasmine and all your family alone because you were too damn stubborn to accept my assistance?”

  “No,” he grumbled.

  “I knew you were a smart guy. Now, tell me where your
clean clothes are or I’ll start going through all of them,” she said gently but firmly, all at the same time. This woman was fierce—a force to behold. She challenged him alright.

  “I just sleep in my boxers. Top drawer. But I want a shower—to wash off all this blood caked in my hair.”

  Her eyes wavered only a moment before she nodded. “Okay, let me set everything up.”

  She left him alone, and a few minutes later, water swished, flowing through the pipes. Belle came back and wordlessly pulled the end of the scrub top he’d been given at the hospital after the EMTs had to cut his off. He gingerly lifted his arms as she maneuvered the shirt over his head, taking care of his injuries.

  She wrapped her arm around his good side as he draped his arm over her tiny body, helping him stand. They walked together to the bathroom as the steam rose.

  “Stand here,” Belle said, pointing to the space right near the entrance to his walk-in shower. Shifting around him, she reached towards his pants button.

  His hand shot out to hers. “Woah, just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “You can barely stand. How else do you think you’re going to get in the shower?”

  “Nah, darlin’. You ain’t seeing me naked like this.”

  “Bently, I’m a nurse. I see naked bodies every day. It’s really no big deal.” She said it more like she was trying to convince herself. “Unless you’re too shy,” she teased.

  “Fine, but boxers stay on.”

  She smiled. “That’s what I was going to propose anyways.” She pulled down his pants as he stepped out of them, grinding his teeth together from the pain.

  She tugged her top off and his mind short-circuited. Did concussions cause hallucinations? She reached for her scrub bottoms before guiding them quickly over her legs.

  Fuck, that tiny body was perfect.

  “W-what are you doing?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a bucket of gravel.

  She looked up at him. “I can re-bandage your ribs after, but you can’t get your stitches wet. I’ll keep the wound site dry and wash your hair. You’ll need help to stand and not slip on your ass and make your head worse. And I don’t have any other clothes.”

  It made sense, but not getting a boner when her half-naked body was wet and slick against his in the shower would be impossible.

  “We’re both adults,” she said as if sensing his dilemma.

  “That’s the problem.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  This woman was going to be the death of him. Since when did Bently Evans, playboy, ever turn down being naked with a sexy-ass woman? Never. He walked into the shower, her bare skin against his as he kept his balance.

  “Sit down there so I can reach your hair.” She motioned to the plastic step stool he’d gotten for Lyra.

  Careful not to pull on his ribs too much, he sat. The hot spray of the water reached his back. Belle stepped forward and closed the glass shower door, caging them in together. Steam rose, billowing upwards. A shiny sheen of water sparkled across the swell of her breasts. Two perfect curves peeked out over the thin, red lace bra. Her panties matched. He hadn’t seen the back yet, but fuck he was having a hard time thinking about anything else besides tearing them off her—fucked-up ribs and all.

  Soft hands smoothed his hair away from the stitches. He bit back a moan. There was no way he was taking his eyes off her and wasting this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to memorize every shape and curve of Belle’s perfect body. As she caressed his scalp, washing out the blood, her breasts were front and center in his line of view. A hint of her dark brown nipples poked through the red lace. His cock was already hard. Just when he thought he couldn’t be in any more pain, this woman brought a new ache to his groin.

  “I was really scared when I saw you in that hospital bed,” she said.

  He swallowed, not knowing what to make of her confession.

  “I’m fine.”

  She reached farther, drawing his head down so close to her plump breasts, he could nearly taste her scent. He bit his tongue, reining it in so he wouldn’t do something stupid like lick her cleavage. Warm hands mixed with hot water, massaging the back of his neck. His cock turned hard as granite.

  Blazing lust overpowered him. Want splintered his control. He reached his hands out and grabbed her hips hard, no doubt leaving a bruise.

  She gasped, startled. His eyes met hers, hazy and vulnerable. A moment suspended in time as they stared into the portals of each other’s souls.

  “Bently.” Her voice was breathy and wavering.

  “Tell me you want this.” He smoothed his thumb over the lace, towards the juncture of her sex.

  Her eyes drifted closed. She looked like a goddess, standing before him. Her tight little body could be the balm to his wounds. Fuck, he wanted her more than tomorrow’s sunrise. His fingers trailed to the middle of her thighs, teasing the top of the flimsy fabric. He’d bet his life she was soaking wet underneath.

  “What I want and what I actually get are two very different things.”

  Her words staggered him. Here he was, trying to steal a piece of her goodness like a thief. She wanted more than his body, but that was all he’d ever had to offer. If anyone in this world deserved happiness, it was Belle.

  She lowered her gaze. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Don’t try to stand up without me.”

  She turned and opened the door before quickly exiting, closing the glass wall between them. He looked at his hands. What could he do? There was one thing he was certain of—he was done with this back-and-forth dance between them. He was standing at a fork in the road. It was time to make a decision. He was either all in, or he’d have to let her go.

  Chapter 22

  Bently

  Bently carefully laid his head on the pillow as Belle pulled his soft, cool sheets over him. Belle walked around the room in one of his T-shirts, blowing out the few candles. The woman was so tiny it reached mid-thigh.

  Is she wearing any panties?

  She’d probably gotten hers wet in the shower. Seeing her in his clothes brought a new wave of possessiveness over him. He wanted her. Needed her. But was he willing to risk the pain that would eventually come with having a relationship? Could he make an exception for Belle?

  Next, she pulled his curtains closed, eliminating the remaining light in the room. The squeak of his chair made his body stiffen. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting comfortable in this chair,” she said deadpan.

  “Don’t you need to get home to TJ?”

  “He’s fine. I already texted him that I’d be gone until tomorrow.” She yawned sleepily. She’d worked all night. She had to be exhausted.

  “I’m just going to sleep. I’ll be fine. You should go.”

  She sighed, as if tired of having this argument. “Bently, we talked about this. You could vomit in your sleep and aspirate. Or a whole host of other complications could happen. You can’t be alone—not for forty-eight hours.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but—”

  “Look. I need sleep. So, if you could just shut up, I’d be very grateful.”

  Damn this woman was something. “You’re going to sleep on that chair?” No fucking way.

  “I have to be in the room. I won’t hear you if you need help otherwise.”

  “I’ll take the chair.” He pulled off the covers and sat. He hissed as the pain of his ribs protested the movement.

  “No. You need to lie down,” she snapped.

  “No way am I taking the bed and letting a woman sleep in that old-ass chair,” he argued. “The bed is big enough for the both of us.”

  She sighed again. “Fine. If it will get you to shut up, I’ll sleep in the bed.”

  He smiled, thankful for the
darkness. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he repeated her earlier words.

  “You better,” she grumbled. The bed shifted under her weight as she lay next to him. Overtired Belle was cute.

  She turned on her side, facing away from him. Her breathing slowed and evened out within minutes. For the first time all day, he could relax. Just having her near brought him a sense of calm. He drifted into sleep.

  ***

  Flashes invaded his mind. His mother’s lifeless body hanging from the rafters of the basement. His father coming at him with a fury of fists and boots. Jasmine’s tear-stained face when she’d run to get him, warning him his father was attacking Mikel. The sight of his little brother, crumpled on the floor, his face so swollen he was unrecognizable.

  You didn’t save them. You should have been there. You weren’t enough.

  The voices taunted him as memory after brutal memory slammed through his mind. Each flashback felt as real as the moment it had happened.

  “Bently.”

  Why was Belle here? No. He couldn’t get to her too.

  “Bently. Honey, it’s just a nightmare,” Belle soothed.

  He cracked his eyes open. His heart raced against his chest as he gasped for breath. Her soft hands rubbed over his rapid pulse, grounding him with her touch. Sparse rays of light bled into the room between the curtains, illuminating her worried expression.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re free. You’re calm.” She repeated the words over and over until his breathing evened out.

  Belle started to pull her hand away, but he grasped it. “Don’t stop.”

  She leaned against his shoulder and resumed the calming swirl of her hand back and forth across his chest.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  Birds chirping outside the window were the only sounds in the otherwise silent room. Belle’s hand rested against his pec. Her movement stilled as she fell back into her slumber.

  He took the opportunity to study her closer—her long lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks ever so slightly. He got the urge to kiss her button nose, but refrained. A sleeping woman could not consent, no matter what Disney had to say about it. He brushed a dark curl from her face. Her lips parted slightly. She was breathtakingly gorgeous. A true queen in his bed. Strength and beauty emanated from every pore, all wrapped up in such a small body. No woman ever stood up to him the way she did, nor challenged him. No one had ever dropped everything to take care of him either.