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His fists clenched around the cup in his hands as his stomach turned to stone.
“I heard him coming and told TJ to hide in the closet. He was only ten at the time. All I could think about was his safety. I just hoped he wouldn’t see or hear anything. Once he was tucked away, I fought with everything I had. I knew my mother wouldn’t come to help. It had just been me and TJ against the world since he was born.”
She stared off like she was witnessing the scene play out on a screen.
“I was so tired of fighting, of being taken advantage of, of being hurt and used. I knew if I just lay there and let him do what he came to do, it would be over eventually. It’s like I floated above myself, watching my teenage body be abused by this grown man. I thought, what chance do I have? This is all that I’ve ever known, so I know exactly how this ends.”
He didn’t move. Every muscle tensed with anger. He ground his teeth together, forcing control.
“Then I saw the closet door open. TJ ran out. I was so scared for him. He lunged at the man, clawing and hitting his head with his little fists. This force surged through me, snapping me back into my body as I freed myself long enough to grab the lamp. TJ’s body was thrown against the wall as I lifted it over that man’s head. I swung as hard as I could and the man crumpled to the floor. I raised my hand and did it again and again.” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “I just wanted to make sure he’d stay down and leave us alone.”
Bently nodded. No longer able to contain himself, his arms shot out and pulled her against his chest. “You did what you had to in order to survive. There’s no shame in that.”
“I checked on TJ and told him to pack only what he absolutely needed. We didn’t have much anyways. I grabbed a couple blankets and clothes and ran out of there while my mother was strung out on the couch watching TV like her own children were not being attacked. I never looked back.”
“You were runaways.”
“Yes. And as soon as I turned eighteen, I went back and had her sign over parental rights to me. Two hundred dollars and she sold her son. I had found a lawyer willing to . . . willing to do the paperwork for a . . . uh . . . trade.” She faltered.
He gripped her tighter. The idea of teenage Belle alone on the streets of New York City, afraid and unprotected made vomit rise in his throat. Agony sliced through him that she’d had to make that choice. That her only option had been to be used.
“I would do anything for my brother. Anything.” Her whisper was coated with shame.
He kissed her forehead. “You amaze me.”
She looked up at him with watery eyes. “How can you say that?”
“Because when everything in this world tried to break you and tear you down, you defied gravity. You’re still fighting. You got free, and you saved your brother in the process. You know how many cases of domestic violence I see? It’s more common for the products of abuse to continue the cycle. You’re the exception. You’re the most beautiful, pure soul I’ve ever known.”
She wiped the tears that dripped down her chestnut cheeks. “Then I guess we’re a lot alike, you and me.”
His brows knitted together.
“Because I feel the same way about you.” She reached her hand up to cup his jaw—her softness against his roughness.
The fact that she thought so highly of him would have brought him to his knees if he’d been standing. He was weak when she’d been strong. They were not even in the same stratosphere. She was from heaven and he from the depth of Hades—or so he had thought. Maybe she was right. He’d only been a kid himself. As soon as he found out what his father was doing, he’d acted.
***
After their heavy conversation, Bently had brought out the fishing poles and taught her how to fish. They’d only caught a couple of little pumpkinseed fish, but her excitement was contagious. Bently had held her hand as they walked along the shore, talking about their likes and dislikes, about what they’d been learning. They’d kept the topics light and he’d savored the drive home. He wanted to enjoy every minute he had with her, for however long that was.
He walked Belle to her door, and set her bag down. “When can I see you again?”
She smiled. “Aren’t you getting sick of me yet?”
“Quite the opposite actually.” He stared at her—beauty radiated from every pore.
She stood up on tiptoes, bracing her hands against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her. She giggled before he slanted his mouth to hers—tasting, teasing, taking everything she offered like the greedy bastard he was.
Her touch was like a live wire to him, a sensory overload. Unable to resist the pull between them, he squeezed her tighter, eager to hold on to whatever this was a little longer, greedily taking the scraps he could. She tipped her head back, and reluctantly he released her.
“I’m beginning to like you a lot, Sheriff,” she said, breathily.
He groaned and set her onto the ground. “Me too, Angel. Me too,” he said as she walked towards her door.
Her absence in his arms immediately fueled the longing. This woman was like an addiction. Each time he tasted her, it got harder and harder to walk away. And not just because his dick was throbbing, begging for release. But because being with Belle was like being whole for the first time in his regretful existence. She gave him hope. Maybe he could be worthy.
Chapter 31
