Defying Gravity: Shattered Cove Series Book 3

by A. M. Kusi

  I shouldn’t need to be taken care of.

  Anger roiled in his gut. She’d seen him overpowered and wounded, helpless and having nightmares like a child. Yet still, here she was, snuggled against him, trusting him. A woman like that . . . A spark of hope lit inside him. Belle was what he’d never been looking for, but always needed. He’d be damned if he let her slip through his fingers without trying everything in his power to keep her by his side—she was worth it.

  ***

  Hours later, Belle stirred against his chest. He kept his eyes closed so she’d think he was sleeping. Her stare swept across his face, tingling his skin. He’d expected her to shy away from his arms once she realized how close they were. But instead, she lay there for a few minutes. Eventually, she shifted gently out of the bed.

  The smell of bacon wafted upstairs a little later.

  He sat, carefully, and rubbed his eyes. He needed coffee, stat. Bently glanced at the clock. Three in the afternoon. They’d slept the day away. He shifted his feet off the bed. His headache had dulled, but it still persisted. His body ached even more than the day before. Bently slowly got to his feet. His head swam, but there was no way he was calling her up here for help. Reaching out, he steadied himself on the wall as he made it to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. He shuffled back to the bedroom to grab a pair of basketball shorts before starting down the stairs.

  “What are you doing!” Belle gasped as she dropped the spatula and ran to his side.

  “Coming for breakfast. What’s it look like?” he grumbled, taking notice of the fact she hadn’t changed out of his shirt. He shuddered as she wrapped her arm around his naked chest.

  “You are not supposed to—”

  “Walk unassisted. Yeah, I know. But I think the doc was overreacting. I made it just fine, didn’t I?” After reaching to steady himself on the chair, he pulled it out before taking a seat at the table.

  “You are the most stubborn man I think I’ve ever met,” she snapped.

  “That’s what you like about me, isn’t it?” He smirked.

  She shook her head and walked over to the stove before shutting off the burner. “Well, it’s your loss. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

  Damn.

  She opened the cupboards until apparently finding what she was looking for. The sight of her so comfortable in his home brought a tightness to his chest. He’d never wanted this before, but then again, he’d never met Belle Jones. She reached up on her tippy-toes, the oversized T-shirt rising over her bare thighs, the barest hint of the globes of her ass peeking out.

  He swallowed hard. No panties, then. Fuck. He shifted in his seat.

  She filled the mug she’d grabbed with coffee and brought it over to him, along with a plate filled with bacon, and an egg and spinach omelet.

  “Looks delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She went back to the counter for her own plate and mug before returning to the table. “You don’t happen to have any hazelnut creamer, do you?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, Angel.”

  “I figured as much.” The corner of her mouth quirked up before she tucked into her food.

  Ding-ding. Ding-ding. She got up and retrieved her phone from the counter. “Hey . . . Yes. Okay. I’ll be home soon. There’s chicken and macaroni and cheese in the fridge for dinner with salad if you’re hungry . . . Okay. Love you.” She smiled before she clicked the button and rejoined him at the table.

  “TJ?” he asked.

  She nodded, taking another bite of her food. “Oh and try to avoid screens as much as you can for the next few days at least.”

  “Yeah, alright, doctor.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Damn that was cute. “I’ll call Mikel to come over when you leave.”

  She smirked. “No you won’t.”

  He smiled. “You’re right. I won’t.”

  “You know, asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, but of strength.”

  “Where’d you get that from? A fortune cookie?” He chuckled.

  She set her fork down and sipped her coffee. Her delicate throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Your X-rays showed a lot of previous injuries.”

  His stomach hardened as a wave of nausea rose. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. His body tensed. His shoulders grew rigid. His fists curled as the pain from each haunting injury burned his consciousness.

  Her hand rested over his, bringing him back to the moment, chasing the ghosts away, if only temporarily. “If you were to examine mine, you’d find my bones in a similar shape.”

  He turned his hard gaze onto her. Anger boiling to the surface. Who’d hurt her? The fierce protectiveness clamored inside.

  “Who hurt you, Belle?” If the son of a bitch was still alive, he’d . . .

  Belle shrugged. “There were several people. Foster homes with over-interested daddies, some of whom liked to inflict physical pain. Then there were the countless boyfriends of our mother’s revolving door. They didn’t like when I got in the way to protect my mother. Of course, some from her too.”

  His body trembled as a low growl came from his mouth. The thought of some man’s hands on Belle made his skin crawl and his rage boil over. However, he was powerless to do anything. Again.

  “My point in telling you this is so that you understand that a past is nothing to be ashamed of. We did what we had to in order to survive. And we did survive. I’ll never know what it’s like to grow up in a loving home, or have someone protect me. But I can create that safe environment for myself now, and my brother. I can heal. The battle scars will always be there, but they’re a reminder of what I’ve lived through and what’s made me stronger.”

  Bently stared at the woman with awe. She’d been through hell and back from the sounds of it, but still she faced the world with positivity.

  “Keeping it hidden inside only hurts yourself and anyone who tries to get close to you. Holding on to this pain only gives the perpetrators more power over you.”

  Let this out? Was she crazy? It would destroy him. His anger was all he had to keep him going. Holding on to the anger gave him the motivation to always strive to be better. Talking about it was . . . no way. He swallowed. “I admire you for what you’ve done. You broke the cycle . . .” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “But my situation isn’t the same as yours.”

  Because I failed them.

  Chapter 23

  Belle

  Belle placed the dish in the rack to dry before toweling off her hands. She’d refrained from driving over to Bently’s for the fifth day in a row just to check in on him. After all, she couldn’t help someone who wasn’t ready to help himself.

  Ding!

  She pulled the phone from her pocket and smiled.

  Bently: Thanks for all the sticky notes. How did I ever survive before you?

  Attached was a picture of one of the many notes she’d left across his house. Little reminders to hydrate, not watch TV, or overdo it.

  She responded.

  Belle: You’re welcome.

  After another few seconds, her phone chimed again.

  Bently: Let me say “Thank you” properly. Come over for dinner tonight.

  She pursed her lips together. Excitement fluttered in her belly.

  Belle: What time?

  Bently: Six.

  Belle: Should I bring anything? You sure you’re up to cooking?

  Bently: I wouldn’t turn you down if you wanted to come early and help.

  Belle: See you at five, then.

  She slipped the phone back into her pocket. Now, what to wear?

  ***

  At five o’clock sharp, Belle knocked on Bently’s door. He opened it a moment later. His eyes lazily made their way up from the open-toed sandals she’d
chosen to her white skinny jeans, and over the bohemian-style flowy crop top partially hidden by her leather jacket. When his gaze met hers, his wolfish grin widened. She swallowed.

  “Can I come in or do you just want to stare at me all day?” she teased.

  “I’m a multitasker. I am capable of doing both.” He stepped aside to let her in.

  She glanced towards the living room off to her right. The simple brown leather couch and coffee table sat in the center in front of a large TV. His bookshelf situated opposite. But there were no pictures hanging on the wall or any other personal décor touches.

  “Shall we?” he asked, waving his hand towards the kitchen on her left. She walked ahead, taking in the clean counters and small table they’d shared their late breakfast at. He was organized, she’d give him that.

  “What’s for dinner?” she asked.

  “My specialty—chicken Alfredo.”

  “Mmm. What can I do to help?” She shrugged off her jacket and laid it over the back of the chair.

  “You can slice the chicken while I start the sauce. Pasta water is already heating up.” He pointed to the cutting board and knife he’d laid out. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He held an apron up for her to slip her head inside.

  She smiled and bowed her head. His hands slid down her arms to her waist as he turned her around. She swallowed back the shot of lust that blossomed within her. The fabric tightened around her hips as he tied the knot.

  “All set.” The deep timbre of his voice made her inner walls clench. Maybe dinner alone wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  They got to work, side by side. Bently strained broccoli and poured heavy cream into another pan with butter. He added spices and cheese as he stirred. The timer for the pasta went off.

  “Can you keep stirring this and I’ll take care of the noodles?” he asked. Her hand swept under his to take the whisk, lightly brushing against him.

  “Do you want some coffee? I got that creamer you like.” He dumped the pasta in the colander.

  He had? The small gesture brought warmth to her chest. “Sure.”

  After all the ingredients were ready, Bently shooed her away to prepare the coffee while he made their plates.

  She sat at the table and sipped her java while he set the steaming plate of savory creamy pasta in front of her.

  “This smells divine,” she said.

  “The noodles are gluten-free—it’s all I had on hand. Lyra and Remy have celiac disease.”

  “Oh, I had no idea. Now it makes sense that her bakery is all gluten-free.”

  She twisted the pasta on her fork and took a bite. She moaned. The food was so good. Licking her lips, she glanced at Bently. His jaw was set and his brow furrowed.

  “What’s wrong? Is your injury bothering you?” she asked, worried.

  “Oh, I’m definitely aching.” He smirked.

  She rolled her eyes. They continued eating their dinner and making small talk.

  “That was delicious. No man has ever cooked me dinner before.”

  “I’m glad I could be your first,” he teased.

  She drained the last of her coffee as he cleared his throat.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said . . . I thought maybe . . . I could try to open up with you. You get my kind of past . . . and I trust you.”

  She took a deep breath, the weight of his words staggering her. He trusted her?

  “Plus, we’d have doctor-patient confidentiality.” He smiled.

  She chuckled. “I’m honored.”

  “My mother killed herself.”

  Whoa. He was diving straight in.

  “Mikel was almost beaten to death by our father because I wasn’t there. Jasmine . . .” He ground his teeth, his eyes clouding over. “I failed to protect her too.” His eyelids fluttered before he locked eyes with her and continued. “You got TJ out. You were able to make a difference in his life. I waited too long. I should have gotten them out faster. I failed them. That’s my secret. That’s what kind of man I am.”

  Was he trying to scare her away? She reached out and took his hand in hers. “How old were you when these things happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “So, you were young, then, a child?” He didn’t say anything, so she continued. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry that you felt all that grown-up responsibility on your shoulders as a boy. Would you expect Lyra to fight off a grown man from her mother?”

  “No,” he snapped.

  “You have to realize that you are holding yourself to impossibly high standards. And the guilt you carry will eat you alive.”

  He shook his head.

  “Grieving the loss is a process that helped me. The loss of childhood, of the naiveté I should have had, of the loving relationships I wished were there. Then you have to comfort your inner child. Let them know you have their back. That that little boy is safe inside you.”

  His brow furrowed as he stared at her.

  She sighed. “I know I can tell you it wasn’t your fault until I’m blue in the face, but the reality is, until you start to believe it, you’re still chained to the past.”

  He nodded.

  “You carry so much on these shoulders. Even now that your brother and sister are grown and on their own.”

  “Jasmine still needs me.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she does. But just not as her protector anymore. How would it feel if you were to only be her brother, rather than caretaker?”

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t even know what that would look like.”

  “You could talk to her and find out exactly what she needs from you,” she suggested.

  He sat back in his chair, rubbing his thumb along the soft flesh of her hand.

  “The thought of not being needed anymore is terrifying, isn’t it? When you’ve built the foundation of who you are around taking care of others’ needs, it can be hard to figure out what you really want.”

  He nodded solemnly.

  She reached out her other hand, pulling his face towards hers. “But it can also be the most freeing thing you could ever do.”

  “How do you know all this?” he asked.

  Her lips turned up in a sad smile. “I learned the hard way. Went through it all so that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes as my mother. I wanted better for TJ and myself.”

  “You’re really brave—you know that?” He glanced down to her lips.

  The tension in the room thickened, making it hard to fill her lungs.

  “Bravery is not about not being afraid. It’s doing what scares you in spite of the fear.” Her words came out in a whisper.

  He leaned in, searching her eyes.

  Every cell in her body screamed to kiss him. But what if that finished this friendship between them? She liked Bently—a lot. She didn’t want that to end just yet for only one night that was sure to be incredible.

  She released his face and reached for her empty coffee cup. “You can live your own life now, Bently. White picket fence and all.” She hoped to lighten the mood.

  He released her hand and stared at his empty plate. His body turned rigid once again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Didn’t you read my file?”

  She searched her brain for what he could mean, but came up short.

  “I had testicular cancer. Between that and the chemo, I’m . . . a family isn’t an option for me anymore.”

  He’s sterile. “There are many other ways to make a family, if you want one.”

  “What kind of woman would want a man who shoots blanks? It’s in your DNA to want to reproduce and nurture life.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “That’s a pretty ignorant opinion. Not all of us want to carry a baby for nine months and then take care of
it for the rest of our lives. Just because it’s society’s expectation, doesn’t mean it’s ours. I’ve been in the mother role since I was seven years old. I’ve never known anything but. I love my brother, but I’m ready to have some freedom—not have to worry about if he’s eaten enough vegetables, or make his doctor appointments.”

  He turned to her. “You don’t want biological children?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe someday in the future, after I’ve had time to do everything I’ve put off, I’d consider foster care and eventually adoption.”

  He leaned in, a small smile quirking up the side of his mouth. “So, what you’re saying is, we’d be perfect for each other.”

  She chuckled. “That’s what you got out of all of that?”

  “Nah, I hear what you’re saying. Not all women want or are meant to be mothers, whatever their reasons, and that’s okay.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What do you want to do for yourself?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Like, my bucket list?”

  “Sure.”

  “I want to sleep under the stars and have s’mores.” She smiled.

  “You’ve never gone camping?” he asked, surprised.

  She shook her head. “I want to travel, and see some of the world.”

  “What else?”

  “A picnic.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “We had a picnic on the mountain, didn’t we?”

  She laughed. “I mean a real, checkered blanket, basket-full-of-goodies kind.”

  “Tell me more.” Bently leaned in, as if captivated by her words.

  Something deep inside fell into place as Belle listed off all the things she’d tucked away in the treasure box of “someday.” She felt connected to Bently. He’d bared his deepest hurts, and listened to her advice like he respected what she had to say. Now he was asking her about her dreams—things she’d held inside for so long, waiting until she could make herself the priority for the first time in her life.