“This and that.” Her shoulder lifted. Bethany kept her face averted. She tucked her hair behind the curve of her hearing aid. “You?”
Drake concentrated on the road. “A lot of things.”
“Such as?” She turned to him, her sleek hair whipping softly around her shoulders.
“Such as looking for you,” he said quietly, his grip tightening on the wheel. “I searched everywhere for you, Be-Bethany.”
Her eyes narrowed. He smirked.
“Hey, it takes getting used to you know, not calling you what I want to.”
He would never stop calling her Bee. He just needed to reintroduce it back into her vocabulary the way it had a home in his.
She sighed leaning back on the leather seat, staring blankly ahead.
Drake would forever regret that he didn’t return right away and the moment he was able to, he nearly went quietly out of his mind not knowing where Bethany and her parents had gone. Miles didn’t know either other than Bethany left a year later.
The former coach remained unfazed when Drake threatened to leave. He called his former pupil a stupid punk and to get his arse out of the gym. Drake stopped because where would he go? He returned to Miles with his tail between his legs. His coach didn’t pick a bone with him but trained him hard nearly driving him to the ground. By the end of the day, Drake was so exhausted, his body aching that all he wanted to do was fall into his smelly cot, close his eyes and dream of Bethany.
It had been the only way he could be with her.
Drake bided his time. Miles allowed him to wallow in self-pity before Drake finally pulled his shit together planning for the day he’d see Bethany and never leave her again.
“So this dancing at the burlesque club…” He cleared his throat.
“What about it?” Bethany let out a long breath.
“Why?” he stole a glance at her before turning his attention back to the road. They were nearing the intersection of Princess Parkway and Nell Lane. Heavy traffic flowed. Parents took their precious children to the nearby schools, office workers living outside of the town centre were coming in droves into the city before it clocked nine.
They rolled into a crawl when the traffic light turned red.
The thought of seeing her in that sexy, cock-teasing get up fired both his jealousy and hunger to take her to his bed. Drake didn’t want her to be on some stage for men to have wet dreams of her. He was the only one who deserved to have a wet dream with Bethany in the starring role.
Drake grunted and shifted in his seat.
“Why do it?”
“Why not?” Bethany arched a perfect brow challenging him. “It’s my body.”
He jammed his jaw shut so hard he thought he’d break it.
“It shouldn’t be on display.”
“Drake, it’s just a dance,” she scoffed, chuckling. “If men went up the stage they’d be thrown out of the club.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He needed to drive his point home. If he had to fight with her, he would fucking fight with her about this.
“Yeah right, and the rest of the girls dancing with me?”
Drake growled. “I don’t give a fuck about them. I give a fuck about you. I give a fuck that every cock, dick, and penis gets to see you flash your—”
“What!” Disbelieving laughter came out of her. Her eyes darkened flashing with indignation. Her breath came out in short and fast. “Say that again.”
Drake kept his mouth shut. Shit, he shouldn’t have said that.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. Her body trembled.
“Bethany.”
“Shut up!”
He wanted to take her, grip the back of her neck and ravage her mouth with one long drawn out kiss that would have his Bee moaning underneath him and holding on to his shirt before they went to the back of the car to continue where they left off. That was one of his favourite fantasies.
Until he saw Bethany’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears.
Ah fuck…
“You don’t own me, Drake,” she said through clenched teeth. “No one owns me.”
“Bee—”
“Pull over. I’m getting out.”
“What? No. I’m taking you to the hospital.” He checked the rearview mirror before sliding to the right lane.”
“Fuck you, Drake! Pull this goddamn car over!”
“No.” He accelerated at the sight of the green light. With the traffic they were still as fast as Aesop’s turtle.
“If you don’t stop this car, I’ll jump.” she threatened.
Drake barked out a laugh. “Really? Go on, I dare you.”
Bethany threw her head back and laughed herself just as the tears she held fell down her cheeks. Drake’s eyes rounded and he stepped on the brake. The car and several other cars behind and beside them screeched to a tumultuous stop. Horns blaring joined incredulous faces and flipping fingers in a cacophony of tempered road rage.
Bethany had just opened the door and let go.
“Fuck!”
A roar filled the car. The tyres screeched, the smell of burning rubber filtering through the vents. Horns blared behind at their abrupt stop. Drake didn’t care. Cars parted like the Red Sea except that he wasn’t running away from danger. Danger was running away from him. The traffic moved faster. Drake didn’t know how he was able to bring the car into a stop without hitting anyone at the same time his arm shot across Bethany to shut the door, like a frog’s tongue catching its food.
Only then did Drake realize that the roar was from him.
They both sat in silence while the lively voice of the radio host belted out the latest traffic report. Short breaths filled the car. Drake’s heart seemed to have lost its way. It was unable to find the cavity to where it was supposed to reside inside his body after jumping out of his throat. Sweat coated his armpits and forehead. Not even the fucking temperature control could remove the terror that robbed him of thought.
He could have hurt Bethany or killed her. He could have permanently snuffed out the only beautiful light in his God forsaken life. She was the only reason he still lived and didn’t end up throwing his life away even after Miles took him in.
The sounds beside him dragged his attention from the windshield. The misty rain coated the surface and looked like it had shattered in a gazillion pieces just like the invisible impact of what Bethany did on his soul.
Bethany was in hysterics enough for tears to mix with her mascara in black rain about to run down the sides of her face before stopping them with finger swipes.
Drake watched her double up in mirth at the shock he knew was plastered on his face. He heaved a huge sigh. He allowed her this moment of perverted hilarity since words couldn’t come out of his clogged throat. He couldn’t believe she made that stupid move.
Bethany soon sobered. The lift of her shoulders was the only remnant of her amusement. She shook her head and didn’t bother to look at Drake. The cars passing them in a blur haloed her profile.
Then she opened the door once more even before Drake’s brain could compute what she did. The screeching tyres of a car swerving to avoid nicking Drake’s car filled his ears. The driver stopped several metres away from them. Dumbstruck, Drake watched Bethany calmly walk away without a backward glance. They were already near the private hospital where Joe Brooke was recovering at his expense. Money wasn’t the problem. It was Bethany’s transformation into one crazy chick. Drake had vowed he’d take care of her when he made it big. Now that he had, he didn’t know how to deal with the woman pushing her way through the line to talk to Saint Peter.
He wished he could go back and be the boy in the centre of Bethany’s universe even if there wasn’t any money to speak of. At least he could have the warm and loving girl of his youth and not this cold fucking sexy woman who made his dick shrivel in panic at the thought of losing her for good.
The driver stormed towards Bethany. The rain didn’t impair Drake’s view of seeing Bethany stiffen before retreating to
Drake’s car. Drake’s gaze narrowed when the driver kept entering Bethany’s personal space.
Motherfucker.
A growl left Drake’s throat and he saw red. He got out of the car just as Bethany sidestepped the man but squealed when he grabbed her arm and shoved her with enough force to make her stumble.
Drake didn’t waste time with words. He rammed his shoulder against the driver’s gut. He didn’t hear Bethany scream. He only heard the satisfying slip and thud of the man’s arse hitting the pavement. The man had a dazed look like he had been roofied. Drake’s temper knew no bounds, the lava flowing thick and slick through his system. He was glad for his stint inside the octagon. He had fought until his knuckles were skinned raw but that gave perspective not to break the jaw of every jerkface who crossed his path.
Drake stood up, his body braced for retaliation but none came when the driver recognized him.
“What the fuck man?” the driver shouted. “I don’t give a shit who you are. I’m not having you bust my arse.”
Drake straightened as he glared at him. “You didn’t have to grab her.”
“Fine, I shouldn’t have,” he snapped. “But your woman should be sectioned.”
“Watch it!”
The man glowered at Bethany as he stood pointing to her. “You better watch her. She might just land you a stint in a cell. Who knows what else she’ll do.”
The last thing Drake wanted to do was to create a scene from one of the soaps people obsessed with or for the police to come to the gym because of what they saw on CCTV. He hoped to God the driver didn’t report the incident. If he did, there was no way in hell Drake was going to let it go.
He grabbed Bethany first glaring at her. She looked mortified.
Good.
Then she wiped off all emotion on her face, pulled her arm away from his hold, and began walking as though Drake didn’t exist.
The muscle on Drake’s jaw ticked like a timer counting down the moments he had left with her. He watched her go, his heart aching and incredulous the farther she walked away from him. He’d never seen Bethany this way and didn’t know how to appease her.
He got back into his car, accelerating with the traffic and drove off, not even slowing down for her. He couldn’t face her. He humiliated her, treated her like some slut. Shame was like a pricked pus inside of him. His jealousy caused him to say those hurtful things. She didn’t deserve that.
He didn’t deserve her.
Drake was back to square one. The odds of winning her back were skyscraper high. He wished for a fault somewhere so it came crashing down to give him a fighting chance to scale the rubble and win her back.
He snorted as he shifted gears.
Not even a magnitude 8 earthquake could do that.
After what he did, he was positive that Bethany had already locked him out of her heart.
CHAPTER TEN
Bethany was glad for the cool mist dissipating the heat from her cheeks.
She was doing another walk of shame, no different from the countless times she had done so in the past. They were titles of chapters in her autobiography like the walk home on the day Drake disappeared. It was the day, a year later, when term holidays began and she returned home wishing for Drake wherever he was. It was the moment she left the park with blood trickling down her thighs. It was the walk with her parents to the head teacher’s office and the walk to the police station to give her statement.
When she got older, it became the stroll out of the lift searching for the hotel room she’d spend the next few hours in. And it was the walk that took her out of a room jaded with a little piece of her broken every time. Her only saving grace, the only thing that kept her striving for something better, to be someone better, was Amara.
Now another chapter had opened and she wrote using the steps taking her away from Drake as she made her way to the hospital only three blocks away. This time, however, Bethany had the sense to follow the ‘Walk’ and ‘Don’t Walk’ signs.
Her life may have had shitty moments. It just wasn’t enough to give her a reason to throw herself in front of an oncoming vehicle.
Yeah, right. Jumping out of Drake’s vehicle was just a dry run.
Bethany really believed in her heart that when he drove past her it wouldn’t hurt. After all, she’d done so many strolls of humiliation deserving of a cat walk. She was wrong. What Drake did stung worse than a bee sting could have ever done.
Bee…She let out a dry laugh. She couldn’t sting someone even if her life depended on it. Asking Drake to stop using that moniker was the right thing to do.
She took the steps up to the hospital, her shoulders slumped carrying the huge sack of missed opportunities and broken dreams. She bade a brief hello to the receptionist before taking the lift to her father’s room.
Her mother was asleep in the soft but uncomfortable chair. Cinzia was seated on the extra chair reading the Manchester Evening News and stood when Bethany entered.
“Bettina,” she said, softly smiling.
“How is he?” Bethany approached her father’s sleeping form. A drip was attached to his arm, oxygen entering his lungs through his nasal tubes. The lines on his forehead had smoothed out making him look younger.
“He was asleep when I arrived an hour ago. He still hasn’t woken up,” Cinzia said, the newspaper landing on the chair she vacated. “He looks good.”
“Yes, he does.” A smile pulled at her lips.
“Bethany?” Cora’s sleep roughened voice caught Bethany’s attention. She yawned and winced as she eased her frame on the chair. “You’re here. Where’s Drake?”
Bethany’s cheeks reddened under Cinzia’s enquiring look.
“He had to leave.” She bent down to kiss her mother’s cheek.
“Where did he go?”
“He didn’t say.” She shrugged. “Why don’t you go home and really sleep, Mum. I’m here. Cinzia can accompany you.”
“Yes, Mama Brooke,” Cinzia said. “You need to rest. What will Papa Brooke say?”
Cora waved dismissively, standing slowly. “I’ll be fine.”
“That wasn’t our agreement, Mum.” Bethany chided her gently.
“I know, sweetheart.” Cora’s face softened, cupping her daughter’s cheek. “Only so that you could take a break. You looked dead on your feet. You work, I don’t.”
“Oh Mum.” She shook her head while she removed her jacket.
“Bethany, please.” Speaking softly, Cora still commanded attention. “Another hour, I promise then I’ll go.”
“Why?” Bethany searched her mother’s face and saw only love glowing in it.
Cora looked at her husband. “I just can’t bear to be away from him. It hurts to even be seconds apart, you know? Sometimes even if you have to go to the toilet to pee.”
Cinzia snorted indelicately before mouthing a shamefaced “sorry” at Bethany’s look.
“Cinzia and I will grab something in the café,” she said relenting. She secured her purse over her shoulder but left her jacket. “We’ll be right back.”
Bethany was the last to leave the room. Maybe her mother didn’t think Bethany would hear what she said, but she did.
Cora wished that Drake would be that man for her daughter, the way Bethany’s father was the man for her.
She and Cinzia found a table not quite by the window. She nursed her coffee within her cold hands while Cinzia began demolishing her crème brulleé.
“How’s the club? The flower shop?” Bethany asked after taking a tentative sip of the insipid espresso.
“Very good. I’m going to teach the girls the new dance and the shop’s showroom is ready for the flowers.” Cinzia scooped a creamy section, humming appreciatively pointing to her dessert. “Just like this. I might even say this is better than sex. You should try it.”
Bethany snorted. “The sex? Don’t have time for it and not interested.” The thought of Drake’s hands on her and the near kiss they had warmed her all over. But tha
t was the extent of it. A touch here, a brush of mouths. Nothing more. She couldn’t let it be anything more.
“I was talking about the crème brulleé, cara.” Cinzia’s thickly lashed dark chocolate brown eyes twinkled.
Bethany’s stomach chose to growl that moment. She hadn’t had anything to eat since she went home. It was a bad habit but she couldn’t eat a morsel when her gut was tied up in knots worse than traffic in a roundabout.
“Mama Brooke said your man went to pick you up.”
“He’s not my man, Cinzia.” Bethany riposted.
“Anyway,” Cinzia continued like Bethany didn’t speak. “Did he pick you up?”
She nodded.
“Where is he really?”
Bethany sighed leaning back and looked away.
“He’s gone and that’s God’s honest truth,” she said raising her palms. She looked at her good friend in irritation. Cinzia remained unfazed, still relishing her dessert.
“He’s not a gentleman if he didn’t take you back to your mama.”
Amusement teased the corners of Bethany’s mouth. “Miss Marchetti, I didn’t think you were old fashioned. That’s some revelation.”
“It’s common decency, Bettina.” Cinzia was all serious despite smacking her lips tempting Bethany to buy a little piece of heaven for herself. “It’s not chivalry.”
“Chivalry isn’t in Drake’s vocabulary.” Not. She remembered him as her knight in tattered-hem trousers and a school shirt partially tucked in and a faded school blazer. She exhaled letting the image join the air. “Look, he was only asked to pick me up, not escort me to my destination like some bloody prom queen.”
“Cara.” Cinzia’s teaspoon made a small clink on the saucer. She reached out to squeeze Bethany’s hand. “I didn’t mean it that way, but you’re so tense and I can’t help but think something must have happened on your way here.”
Bethany exhaled. “I nearly jumped out of the car while we were in the motorway.”
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