by A. M. Kusi
She turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. Her things had slowly begun to be unpacked, returned from Bently’s. She dried off and brushed her teeth and hair before walking into the bedroom. Bently was sitting at the edge of her bed, his face in his hands. She’d never seen him look more defeated. And part of it is my fault.
“I keep going into his room expecting him to be there,” she said, just above a whisper.
Bently looked up at her, devastation written across the shadows of his face.
“Sometimes I swear I hear music. Or that damn basketball bouncing . . . It still feels like I can call his name and he’ll answer me.” Her voice shook and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
Bently grimaced, his jaw clenching. “I’m sorry—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I said things I didn’t mean. I blamed you because you were here.”
Bently shook his head.
She drew closer, kneeling in front of him. She placed her hands on his knees and looked into blue eyes coated in shame. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was!” His voice cracked, tears glistening.
“How? Did you pull the trigger?”
“I failed him. I promised to protect him and now he’s dead. I tried so hard to be everything, to be the best leader, to run my unit—but I couldn’t—I should have . . . maybe if—”
“There was nothing you could have done.”
“I knew Parsons . . . that he was biased. He’d make jokes about women or minorities. It was just ribbing, locker room talk. I’d grown up hearing the same comments. I never thought it was a big deal . . . Now I see how wrong I’d been. How my silence made it acceptable. By not speaking up, maybe I encouraged his behavior. I should have stopped it.” Bently’s shoulders slumped.
She placed her hand on his cheek, his rough stubble scratching her skin. “It’s not your fault. You brought TJ friendship and happiness. He’d never want you to beat yourself up over this. You spent your life carrying guilt and responsibility that wasn’t yours. Don’t take this too. This isn’t yours to bear. This is on Parsons.”
He jerked, shaking his head violently.
She grabbed his face in both her hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “Don’t do this. Don’t run from me. Choose me.”
“I’m no good for you. I come from the devil himself. Everything I touch gets destroyed. I’m not enough.” His words said one thing, and his eyes another. “But I want to be, Belle. I want to be so bad it hurts.”
“You’re nothing but good, Bently Evans. You’ve been surrounded by darkness your whole life and still you shine so much brighter than you realize. You’re not the devil—you’re the moon. You’re my guiding light.”
He blinked as a single tear fell down each side of his face.
“Give me your hurt. Give me your guilt. Cast it all on me. I can take it. We can be strong together, leaning on one another. Let me love you.” She pressed her lips to his, halting his reply.
He hesitated only a moment before his hands pulled her tighter against him. She tore at his shirt, letting her towel fall to the ground. He pulled down his pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. His body slammed onto hers. Their touches were frantic and needy. They were kindred spirits, stuck in a storm of grief, tumbling and plunging through the darkness they’d been born into. But together, they burned bright and hot. United, they lit up like a thousand suns.
His hands gripped and roamed, burning, searing her skin. Need enveloped her, washing away everything with its cleansing fire. Lips caressed hers, taking and giving all at once. Kissing him made it hurt a little less. She raked her fingernails over his back, pulling him closer, greedy and desperate. Electricity flashed and splintered through her as he thrust into her in one quick surge.
“Yes!” she cried out. Discord and chaos spun within. A wildfire of rapture shattered her. Pressure built until it crested. He rocked her hard and fast. His sinewy muscles were taut, curling and bunching over her as he pounded deep inside her. His blue eyes locked on her, as their bodies danced. She quaked. She cried out with whimpers and wanton words as he drove her towards the light. Warmth flooded her body as every nerve ending tingled with awareness just before another orgasm blasted through her. He’d taken her pain and replaced it with euphoria. He’d taken her darkness and given her glimmering, sparkling, blinding light.
“I love you,” he said, over and over. He grunted, sweat beading on his forehead. His eyes locked on to hers as he charged his own release.
Bently pressed his cheek to hers. Their tears melded together as one. Her pulse raced. Breaths came in gasps. And a small piece of her heart fluttered back to life.
***
Bently held her hand. She was tucked against the side of his body, warding out some of the chill as they stood on a ledge overlooking the gray-green ocean as waves pounded against the black cliffs. The March wind whipped and whistled through the evergreens. She shivered and tucked her chin against Bently’s chest. He swept his lips across hers before she lifted her head to the sunshine. Warm rays caressed her face. TJ.
Today was the day she’d say goodbye. She looked around at the small group of familiar faces. Bently’s friends and family. Katy was there. TJ’s friend Mark and the girl he’d liked, Cam. Everyone who cared about her brother.
They’d all taken turns saying something about him, and now it was her turn. “My brother was the best human on this earth. He was kind, and smart. He was the bravest person I know. He wanted to devote his life to helping people. He was going to become a doctor to save lives . . . but he saved mine when I was seven years old and he was born. He’d rescued me every day since. He’ll always be with me. I’ll carry him in my heart. And I’ll honor his life by not wasting mine.”
She opened up the jar of ashes, spilling the contents as the waves crashed against the rocks below. The wind blew, carrying his remains out to sea where he’d be forever immortalized in nature.
Her knees buckled and her chest squeezed as she let the last of him go. Bently’s arm steadied her. She looked up at him, offering him a watery smile. They’d been through so much together in the eight months of knowing each other. Highs and lows. Mountains and valleys. He’d taken her to the tallest of heights, and held her hand as they navigated the lowest pits of grief and despair. Some days she needed to lean on him, and others he borrowed her strength. Together, they’d get through this. Together, they would build a future that was brighter and better. Together, they were unstoppable.
Chapter 49
Eighteen Months Later
Bently
Bently replayed the body cam footage over and over in his head as the wooden bench bit into his back in the packed courtroom. Parsons had peeked in the window, seeing TJ moving around in the kitchen. He’d assumed it was a break-in and decided that was probable cause. He’d opened the front door, announcing his presence. TJ’s back had been to him, bobbing his head up and down, obviously lost to the music flowing through his earbuds. Five seconds. That was all it had taken for Parsons to open the door and open fire into the back of an unarmed teenager.
“All rise,” the bailiff said.
Bently stood as Belle’s trembling hand wove into his. He gave her a squeeze. Today was the day they would find out if TJ received justice.
“Please be seated,” old judge Robertson said, after taking his seat.
Bently’s ears rang, drowning out everything as his heart pounded in his chest. He wrapped his arm around Belle, holding her close as he’d done every day since the shooting. They’d had such a long road of working through their grief. But each day got a little easier.
One of the jurors passed a piece of paper to the bailiff and then it went to the judge. This was it. The moment they’d waited twenty months, three days, and seven hours for.
“On the count of murder in the second degree,
how do you find the defendant?” Judge Robertson asked the juror.
“We find the defendant, Luke Parsons, not guilty.”
An audible collective gasp sounded throughout the courtroom. Belle’s hand tightened around his. His heart lurched in his chest.
Come on.
“And on the count of manslaughter, how do you find the defendant?” Mathews asked.
“We find the defendant, guilty.”
Bently let out the breath he’d been holding. TJ would get some justice, though nothing would make up for his precious life that had been stolen.
Luke Parsons sat stone-faced. He’d never even offered them an apology. He’d sworn he was just doing his job, that he’d feared for his life.
Bently glanced at Belle. She was so brave in the face of adversity. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of tissues before handing them to her.
She smiled and took one from the packet before wiping her eyes. Her silver wedding band glinted in the light. He pulled her against him and kissed her head. His angel, sent from heaven. She’d endured hell and still managed to hold on to her goodness and light.
***
They burst through the doors of the courthouse as cameras clicked and flashed. A crowd of reporters thrust their microphones towards Belle.
“Mrs. Evans, are you happy with the verdict?”
“Mrs. Evans, do you think justice prevailed today?”
Instinctually, he stepped in front of her, protecting her from the surge of people. Thousands had gathered outside, holding their signs. After the body cam footage had been released, and the media had found out about yet another shooting, the Black Lives Matter movement had caught wind and the national news coverage exploded.
“It’s okay,” Belle assured him, squeezing his hand.
He stood by her side as she spoke, holding one hand on her lower back.
“Officer Luke Parsons received seventeen years. One year for every one my brother was alive. My brother will never be able to achieve the dreams he had. Am I happy with the verdict? I’d be much happier if my brother was here with me today. But nothing will bring him back. Continue to say his name and the thousands of others who’ve been unjustly targeted by the justice system and had their lives stolen for their only crime—being born Black. TJ had so much potential. He was so full of life, and all that was violently stolen by the internalized prejudice and systemic racism that plagues this country. It needs to end now!”
The crowd chanted, “No more! No more!”
Belle took a deep breath, as if drawing in courage. “The one thing I can do is try to make this world a better place. Make this country safer for people of color. I can do my part so that not one more Black man will suffer at the hands of police. We can hold those accountable who steal their lives out of misguided fear and racism. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help.” Belle took a breath, searching the crowd.
Pride glowed in Bently’s chest as his wife called a nation to action.
She continued, “White people, allies, I’m talking to you. There will never be a world in which racism doesn’t exist, unless we’re willing to come together. Black, White, brown, we’re all humans. We all love. We all have dreams and hopes, and families we care for. Start by talking to your children about their privilege and racism. Don’t be afraid to speak up when you see something. White silence is White consent. Stop the hate by stopping the hate speech.”
The crowd cheered.
Belle held up her hand, quieting them. “Educate yourself, read books, talk to people who’ve lived it. And don’t get defensive when we tell you something is hurtful. Acknowledge your privilege. Be better, America.”
“Mrs. Evans, what do you have to say to those who would accuse you of sleeping with the enemy? Your husband being both a White man and a cop?” a reporter asked.
Bently’s spine stiffened.
Belle’s chin rose. “The police are not the enemy. My husband is not the enemy. It is not them versus us. Many of those in blue are good people, risking their lives every single day to protect strangers—my husband included. The only way we’re going to win this war on racism is to work together to weed out the ones who misuse their power, and those who stand by and do nothing to stop them. We have to rewrite unjust racist laws and make diversity and sensitivity training mandatory, as well as de-escalation instruction. My husband, Sheriff Bently Evans, has implemented it in our state and is working with our senators to introduce new legislation nationwide that will rewrite the structure of accountability for officers, along with stricter guidelines of their use of force.”
The crowd applauded and cheered again.
“Mrs. Evans—”
“That’s all I have to say. Thank you for your support.”
Bently wrapped his arm around Belle and kissed her cheek.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he said, leading her away from the crowd towards his truck.
Her smile made his chest tighten. There had been such a long period of time when she’d not been able to find happiness. They’d waded through the pain together and come out stronger because of it. He’d stuck by her side, and he knew without a doubt that Belle was the only woman for him. He loved her, body and soul. She owned every part of him. And he’d spend the rest of his life earning those smiles.
“You amaze me.” He opened her door.
“Because of the speech?” She chuckled.
“No. Because when everything and everyone in your life tried to drag you down, you didn’t stay there. You rose amidst the thorns.”
She spun around and hooked her arms over his neck, pulling him towards her mouth. She kissed him, pressing her lush curves against him. “I could say the same about you.”
Bently soaked in the sight, memorizing every line and curve of her light brown face. His bronze angel, glowing in a halo of sunlight. Love radiated through every atom. They were bound together by the energy that crackled between them.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m the only woman in the world.”
“Because to me, you are.” His lips descended on hers, soaking in her warmth and goodness. Happiness and gratitude tumbled and tangled in his chest, pressing against his rib cage. He’d found true joy after a lifetime of grief. Not the kind that fairy tales were made of, but the real, raw, love that was forged in fire and reborn in hope. The kind of partnership that he could count on. A wife who’d be by his side no matter what they faced. A woman who accepted him as he was while also pushing him to be better.
They were just two broken people, with jagged edges and sharp ridges, pieced together to make something whole—bound by the bonds of the truest love.
Epilogue
Another 8 months later
Belle
The spring breeze blew lightly against Belle’s skin as the sunshine warmed her, reminding her of TJ. She sipped her iced coffee and walked out to the back porch of the large house she and Bently had bought right after they were married. Her heart squeezed with a pang of sadness. She inhaled long and deep as she set the cup on the patio table. “My husband. My family. My friends.” The three things she was most grateful for.
“What, Aunty Belle?” Zoey asked from her side.
Belle turned and gasped.
Big gray almond-shaped eyes looked up at her guiltily. The little girl was covered in mud from head to toe.
“I gots the garden watered.” She smiled, her white teeth standing out even more against the brown splotches all over her face.
Did she take a mud bath?
Belle burst out laughing and Zoey’s sweet giggles were not far behind. “You certainly did. Looks like you need a shower.” Belle reached out and picked up a piece of dark hair caked in mud.
“I made a mu
d pie. Do you want some?” Zoey asked.
“Mmmm. Sounds delicious.”
“What does?” Bently’s deep voice asked from behind. She turned around, her heart stuttering at the sight of those brilliant blue eyes, amused and hungry and aimed at her. His uniform fit snugly showing off hard-earned muscles. He’d shaven his beard that he’d kept for the winter, leaving dark, rough stubble. She squeezed her thighs together, the rashes he’d left from said scruff tingling.
Will I ever get enough of my husband?
No.
“Uncle Bently! Do you want a mud pie?” Zoey asked, holding out a glob of dark brown sludge.
Bently wrapped his arms around Belle and kissed her cheek. “Hmm. That looks mighty tasty. You know what I really love?”
“What?” Zoey asked.
“Mud cupcakes. Those are my favorite.” Bently smiled.
“Oh! Great idea. I do it!” Zoey got to work, busily plopping mud in smaller piles on the green grass.
“I missed you,” Bently said next to Belle’s ear, his hot breath tickling the fine hair on her neck.
“Same here, Sheriff.”
His hands dropped to her waist, pulling her tighter against him as he peppered kisses down her neck, his scratchy chin making heat pool in her center. The tiniest whimper escaped from her.
He chuckled.
“Stop. Your niece is right over there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just saying hello to my wife.” Bently’s deep voice reverberated through her.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.” He knew her body better than she did. He’d spent countless hours mapping every pleasure point.
“It’s all done!” Zoey proclaimed excitedly. She held out a small clump in her hand towards him.
“Yum!” Bently accepted the handful from her before bringing it to his lips.
Zoey made a face. “Don’t really eat it! It’s just pretend.”