Every Tear You Cry (Redeeming Love Book 4)

by J. E. Parker

  “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never slept with a fat girl before?”

  It was Brantley’s turn to blink slowly. “Fat?” He sounded confused. “You’re not fat.”

  I chuckled because, well, that was just hilarious.

  I grabbed my nightgown from the foot of the bed and slid it over my head. “Funny. Last time I checked a size fourteen—on a good day—isn’t exactly skinny.”

  “It sure as hell isn’t fat either.” He blew out a breath. Then, “You didn’t have to get dressed on my account, ya know.”

  Waving off his asinine comment, I strutted over to where he stood. “So, I have a legal question.”

  His brows climbed his forehead. “Then ask.”

  “Exactly how much trouble would I get in for assault and battery?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I replied. “I’m just making plans, ya know?”

  “Plans for what?”

  I pushed a stray lock of hair out of my face. “To kick the crap out of your ex-wife when I meet her.”

  Brantley smiled. “Can I watch?”

  I smacked his arm. “That’s not funny,” I whisper-hissed, “She was the one who called Bella a brat. Did you know that?” I stomped across the room, grabbed my brush from the dresser, and ran it through my hair in long, hard strokes. “I have never wanted to smack another woman as much as I do right now. Seriously, how could she?”

  Brantley walked up behind me and pulled the brush from my hand. “Stop, baby. You’ll rip all your hair out.” When he ran the brush through my hair, tingles raced down my spine. “Chastity is a bitch, Clara. There is no other way to put it. I don’t wish any harm to come to her, but I wish she wasn’t Bella’s mother.”

  “You’re not the only one,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “What?” He asked. “I didn’t quite hear what you said.”

  My eyes widened as I spun to face him. Our chests almost touched. “I said it’s time for me to go to bed.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “I put your sheets, blanket, and pillow on the sofa.”

  Smiling, I patted him on the shoulder. I needed him to leave. Like, right now. If he didn’t I was afraid I would say something stupid like, I wish I were Bella’s mom.

  “Alright, Firecracker,” he replied, quietly. “I’ll go to bed, but I have one request first.”

  Oh boy. “Name it, Pretty Boy.”

  “Kiss me.”

  I froze.

  When I didn’t move, Brantley dipped his face closer. His lips hovered over mine. “Kiss me, Clara. I know you want to, so come and—”

  He was silenced when I pressed my lips to his.

  My eyes slid shut and Brantley’s hands cupped my jaw.

  This is perfect, I thought. Absolutely perfectly.

  Moments passed before I pulled my lips from his.

  The kiss had been sweet. Heart stopping.

  “That,” he said, looking into my eyes, “was the sweetest goodnight kiss I’ve ever had.” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “The only thing keeping me from asking for seconds is knowing it won’t be our last.” Before I could object, he backed out of the room. Standing in the hall, he winked at me, and whispered, “Goodnight, bella dama. Sleep tight, baby.”

  Then he shut the door and walked away.

  Brantley

  I woke up to the sound of muted crying.

  Jerking upright on the sofa where I’d been sleeping, I strained to hear where it was coming from. It took me only a second to realize that the whimpering was coming from Clara’s room.

  Without thinking, I jumped up and jogged down the hall to her room. I didn’t bother to knock or call out her name before pushing her door, which was slightly ajar, open.

  Light spilled in from the hallway, illuminating the dimly lit room.

  My gaze locked on Clara, who was lying on the middle of her bed curled into a tight ball. Her eyes were closed but her fair skin was covered in sweat. I moved into the room, trying to gauge if she was having a nightmare or if something else was wrong.

  I’d taken only two steps when she clenched her hands into fists and turned to her back. She cried out before jerking her head to the left and gasping for breath. Mumbling incoherently, she cried out again and kicked at the blanket that covered her legs.

  I moved.

  Crossing the room, I climbed onto the mattress beside her and grasped her shoulders. “Clara,” I said, shaking her slightly. “Wake up.”

  She arched her back again and shook her head back and forth. “No,” she cried, clenching the bed sheet tight in her hands. “Please, don’t. Not again.”

  The terror in her voice was like a knife straight to my heart.

  “Clara”—I shook her harder—“it’s just a nightmare, beautiful girl. Wake up for me.” The only response she gave came in the form of an agonized whimper. “Clara, goddamn it, wake up.” My grip on her tightened. “Baby, come back to me. It’s—”

  Her eyes snapped open, and the stark fear swimming in her pupils is something I’ll never forget. The sight of it will haunt me until the day I die. “You were having a—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, she struck out.

  The heel of her hand connected with my jaw and her nails scraped down my bare chest. She kicked and clawed at my hands which were still anchored to her shoulders. “No!” She shrieked, fighting harder. “I won’t go back!”

  I released her shoulders and pushed her back onto the bed. Holding her down with one arm, I flicked on her bedside lamp with my free hand. The yellow light lit up the room. “It’s Brantley, Clara,” I said, grabbing her hands.

  She froze.

  Her wide eyes focused on me and for a moment the room fell silent.

  Releasing one of her hands, I pushed the sweaty strands of hair that were stuck to her face back. “You’re okay, bella dama,” I whispered, running my shaking fingers through her tangled locks. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

  Her bottom lip trembled as tears fell from her eyes. “Brantley?”

  The agony lacing her voice made the knife embedded deep in my heart twist.

  I cupped her face and ran my thumbs over her cheeks. “I’m right here, baby.” I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do or not, but I laid down beside her, pressing my back to the mattress. My eyes stayed locked with her terrified ones. “Not going anywhere either.” I slipped an arm under her back and curled my fingers over her shoulder. “Come here”—I pulled her slightly, urging her to come to me—“I can’t stand seeing you upset, beautiful. It guts me.”

  My girl didn’t hesitate.

  Rolling to her side, she snuggled against me.

  I pulled her arm over my stomach, hooked her leg over my thigh, and wrapped both of my arms around her, holding her tight. She buried her face against my side, hiding her eyes from me. Her warm breath ghosted over my skin, and for what felt like the first time since I walked into the room, I took a breath.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I wanted to know what she’d been dreaming about, but I knew I couldn’t push her. There was zero doubt in my mind that it had to do with the fucker from her past. “Or do you just want me to hold you while you fall back asleep?”

  I traced my fingers over her arm and down her side.

  Her tears wetted my side. “I can’t escape him,” she whispered, digging her nails into my skin. “I can push him away during the day, but at night, he’s always there, taunting me. I relive the things he did to me. The words he said, the punishments he gave.” A single sob escaped her. “I’ll n-never be f-free.”

  Punishments?

  I gritted my back teeth together, fighting the urge to free the slew of curse words and questions that sat on the tip of my tongue. “He can’t hurt you anymore,” I whispered, doing my best to comfort her.

  “I know.” She pulled her face from my side and looked up, meeting my eyes. “Because he’s dead.” She said the last word with force. “Evan kille
d him.” She paused as more tears fell from her eyes. “Your brother killed him, Brantley. To protect me. To save Maddie.” Another sob, more tears. “Do you know what he did to h-her? To M-Maddie?”

  She was crying so hard she could barely speak.

  “I do, beautiful girl,” I replied, holding her tighter. “He hurt her.”

  Clara shook her head. “He didn’t just hurt her. He tried to kill her.” She ducked her head. The tears falling from her eyes splattered onto my stomach. “And it was all because of me. If I hadn’t been at the Shelter, he wouldn’t have come there. He wouldn’t have found Maddie outside and she wouldn’t have been forced to make the decision to give her life to protect ours. She almost died Brantley.”

  My anger rose, making my hands shake.

  “When she wouldn’t turn us over to him, he beat her so bad it cracked her skull open. If Evan hadn’t found them in time, if he hadn’t shot Colin…” Her voice trailed off as she sobbed hysterically. “It’s all my fault and—”

  There was no way I would let her finish that sentence.

  I jerked upright and wrapped my arms around her waist. Pulling her onto my lap, I cupped her face and forced her to look at me. I wanted her to see me when I spoke the words she needed to hear. “Look at me, Clara.” Her teary-eyed emerald green gaze crashed into mine. “What that son of a bitch did to you, what he did to Maddie… None of that is your fault.” I left out Liam’s name because I didn’t want to throw Shelby under the bus. Clara would tell me when she was ready.

  Hopefully, anyway.

  Clara tried to shake her head, but my unrelenting hold wouldn’t let her. “Yes it i-is.”

  “How?”

  Her face twisted in agony. “Because I married a m-monster.”

  Five words. That’s all it took to break my goddamn heart.

  I needed to say something, but I couldn’t find the words.

  My mind reeled, my heart pounded.

  While I was married to an ungrateful, gold-digging bitch who didn’t know the first thing about being a good wife and mother, Clara, a woman with a heart bigger than Texas was married to a piece of shit who beat her whenever he felt like it.

  Everything about that was wrong.

  “Brantley,” Clara whispered my name. “How much do you know?”

  Enough, I thought.

  “Not a lot,” I replied honestly. “Just enough to make me wish I’d been the one to pull the trigger instead of Evan.”

  Clara’s eyes widened.

  “What? You think just because I wear a suit and tie to work that I won’t mess somebody up?” I joked, smiling. “You wound me, Firecracker.”

  Clara bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  It was a beautiful sight.

  “Does that mean I don’t have to worry about anybody messing with me since I have you around?”

  “Clara,” I said, my tone serious. “If anybody ever raises their hand to you again, they will die by mine.” Her breath hitched. “You understand me?”

  Ducking her head, she wiped away her tears. When she looked back up, she appeared calmer. More relaxed. “Careful saying stuff like that, Pretty Boy.”

  “Why should I be careful?”

  A small smile tipped her lips up. “Because if you keep talking like that I‘ll end up falling for you, and let’s face it, men like you don’t fall for women like me.”

  Three words—What. The. Fuck?

  “You need to explain that, Clara, because I don’t understand.”

  She blew out a breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Staring into the mirror that sat on top of her dresser, she whispered, “I’m not the type of woman a man falls for, Brantley. I’m too damaged for love.”

  I pinched her chin between two fingers and forced her to face me. Eyes locked, I replied, “My heart disagrees.”

  I meant each word.

  Whether or not I acknowledged it, the simple fact of the matter was that I’d been falling in love with Clara for the last nine months. It started the moment I saw her smile down at my daughter with nothing but love and affection, and it snowballed from there.

  While living in Memphis I’d tried to fight it, tried to bury my feelings in the pit of my gut, but I couldn’t do it any longer. With her so close, there was no denying the truth anymore.

  That truth? Clara was mine.

  “I know you’re not ready for me, Clara,” I whispered. “But one day you will be, and when you are, I’ll be waiting.”

  I expected her to roll her eyes or call me an idiot, but she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped her fingers around my wrist and pulled my hand into her lap. Sliding the tip of her pinky over my palm, she replied, “You may be waiting a while.” Her eyes clenched shut. The words obviously pained her. “I don’t know if I’ll ever… If I’ll ever be ready for that again.” She turned, shifted her weight, and straddled my thighs.

  My heart raced.

  Looping her arms around my neck, she pressed her forehead to mine, and continued. “But I’d like to get there one day.”

  “You will,” I said truthfully. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  She blew out a small breath and looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand. “Will you stay? I don’t want to sleep alone. Not after—”

  I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Nothing could keep me away.” Wrapping my arms around her tight, I laid back on the bed, bringing her down with me.

  Her arms slid from my neck.

  Back pressed against the mattress, I helped her reposition her legs so that she was resting comfortably atop me. “You good?”

  “M’hm,” she hummed, her cheek pressed against my chest.

  I slid my fingers through her hair causing her eyes to slide shut. “Go to sleep, bella dama.”

  She pressed a soft kiss to my skin. “Night, Pretty Boy.”

  “Night, beautiful.”

  Contentment flowed through me.

  Soon, we both drifted off to sleep.

  Clara

  I was in bed, lying on my side when I felt more than one person’s eyes on me. Normally, having people stare at me while I slept would’ve creeped me out. But that morning was different because two of the three little people doing the staring belonged to me.

  “Liam Nicholas O’Bannon,” I mumbled. “Don’t you know the meaning of sleeping in? I know you’re the ringleader here. Your brother never gets up this early.”

  I cracked open an eyelid.

  Three pairs of wide eyes met my sleep-filled one.

  “Hey, Mama,” Declan said, smiling. “Bella woke me up. She snores.”

  “I don’t snore,” Bella huffed.

  “Yes you do,” Declan argued. “You stole my blanket too.”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “You both snore.” He focused back on me. “Sorry, Mama. I didn’t want to wake you up, but Brantley is trying to cook breakfast. I told him the toaster was broken but—”

  “Crap!” I screeched, jumping out of bed. Feet flat on the floor, I ran out of the room and down the hall. The kids followed right behind me. Reaching the kitchen, I turned the corner just in time to see Brantley hit the start button on the microwave. “Brantley, don’t!”

  I was too late.

  Sparks flew, shooting out from behind the microwave and onto the stained, tile backsplash. A loud pop followed, and I swear the stupid thing jumped three inches off the countertop.

  Wide-eyed, Brantley unplugged it and tossed it to the kitchen floor. Chest heaving, he looked up, meeting my gaze. “What the fuck, Firecracker?”

  “Uh,” I said, looking down at the busted appliance. “It does that sometimes.”

  “It does that all the time,” Liam interjected from behind me. “So does the toaster. Well, it did before it died.”

  “Clara,” Brantley growled. “Look at me.”

  I snapped my gaze up. “What?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing my attention to the fact that he was shirtless. Like, there was nothing covering his
chest. Not the fancy button-up shirt he’d worn all day yesterday nor the white undershirt he’d gone to bed in.

  My lips parted, and my mouth ran dry.

  I traced my eyes over his muscular pecs, down his well-defined bronzed abs, and over the V that tapered into the front of his dark slacks.

  “Jesus, Brantley,” I hissed. “Where is your shirt?” I looked back up, taking in the black-framed glasses he wore. “And since when do you wear glasses?”

  He smirked. “Since I was thirteen. I keep a contact travel kit in my SUV. I took them out before I went to bed last night.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” He asked, his brows arched. “Your damn microwave almost catches the kitchen on fire and that’s all you have to say?”

  “Umm, well”—I forced a smile through the shame racing through me—“the microwave likes to spit sparks at us, so we try to not to use it. And uh, like Liam said, the toaster is broken so you can’t use that either.” He glanced at the stove. “That doesn’t work either. I mean, the oven sort of works sometimes but all the burners except for one are dead, and even that is hit or miss.”

  “Why haven’t you called your landlord to fix all this stuff?”

  I scrunched up my nose. “You obviously haven’t met my landlord if you’re asking that question.”

  “Yeah,” Liam added. “Mama calls him Dickie the Dick.”

  My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “That’s cause he’s a dick,” I muttered under my breath.

  Brantley looked down at the kids. “Why don’t you guys go watch cartoons for a few minutes? I need to talk to Clara, but when we’re done, we’ll go out to breakfast.”

  “I want pancakes!” Bella and Declan yelled simultaneously.

  I only smiled at them. “You two might as well be twins.”

  I twisted, looking back at Liam. “What do you want for breakfast?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up in a wonky smile as he looked at Declan and Bella. “I’ll eat whatever they want. I don’t care.”

  Before I could reply, Brantley placed his hand on my lower back and led me out of the kitchen. “We’ll be right back, guys. Sit tight.” Down the hall we walked and into my bedroom we ended up. Brantley shut the door behind us and turned, pressing his back to the smooth wood.