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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.
