“You belong to me.”
Voices rose downstairs, overshadowing the ones in her mind.
She clamped her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “I’m safe. I’m free. I’m calm,” she repeated the affirmations until the heaviness lifted from her shoulders.
The memories were like a dark shadow looming in the background, waiting for the opportunity to jump out and try to drag her back down into the abyss. She couldn’t afford to be depressed. TJ needed her. She was all he had. She’d learned early on that, in order to survive, you had to keep going—no matter what.
“Ahh, you think you’re so slick hiding back there. I see how it is.” TJ was in some sort of competition, probably playing the video game that hardly ever got touched. She’d got it for him in hopes it would help him take a break from always studying. He deserved to be a teenager without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Belle’s stomach grumbled. Dinnertime. She pulled on her black high-waisted leggings and adjusted the off-the-shoulder crop top—her go-to comfort clothes.
She grabbed her phone off the nightstand in her bedroom before heading downstairs.
“You in the mood for lasagna?” she asked, not looking up from her emails.
“A woman after my own heart.”
Her head snapped up as she stumbled down the last step, awkwardly catching herself on the railing at the last second.
Bently winced. “You okay?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“Got ya!” TJ yelled triumphantly next to Bently on the couch.
“You cheater. I was distracted,” Bently argued, standing and setting the gaming controller on the couch. His eyes caressed every inch of her body.
TJ shrugged. “Hey, a man has to play to his advantages. Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off my sister.”
Bently smirked. His blue eyes shone as he winked at her. “I believe I heard something about lasagna?”
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked, amused.
Bently placed a hand over his stomach. “Why, thank you for the invitation. I would love to.”
Belle rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Need any help in the kitchen?” Bently asked.
A pang of something unfamiliar flitted through her chest. But if he kept looking at her like she was what he wanted for dinner, there was no way they could cook in that small kitchen without her combusting.
She shook her head. “No, I got it. You two have fun.”
“Best out of three does the dishes after dinner,” he said to TJ as he resumed his place on the couch.
Belle got to work, pulling out her homemade sauce as the oven warmed up. She layered the pasta, meat, and cheese with fresh herbs. Sliding it into the oven before she brewed a pot of coffee. The sounds of laughter and trash talk bounced between TJ and Bently.
A flash of movement in the window drew her attention. The reflection staring back at her was smiling. Her fingertips pressed against her cheek. She’d been doing that more and more lately. She bit her lip. A crush—that’s all this is. He’d made it clear he couldn’t give her a romantic relationship. Why did that feel like such a loss? Didn’t you have to have something before you could feel it missing?
She poured herself a cup of coffee when it was ready and added some hazelnut creamer. She fixed two others, one with cream and sugar, the way TJ liked it, and then left one black for Bently. She brought it to the living room, carefully setting it on the coffee table out of their way.
“Thank you,” Bently said, making eye contact before he focused back on the game.
TJ had a carefree grin spread wide on his face. He didn’t ever get to do this—have a grown man giving him attention. She went back into the kitchen to grab her coffee and her book before returning to the living room to sit in the chair beside them. She flipped to her bookmark and got sucked into the book.
This story was riveting and real. The characters’ emotions so raw, she’d felt like she was them. They’d both had so much to work through. Everything seemed to be designed to tear them apart, and it had. But as she closed the book on the last chapter, they’d found each other again and what’s more—hope.
Setting the book aside, Belle drained the rest of her cold coffee and tucked her feet underneath her. Still reeling from the ending, her eyes stung from the tears that wanted to fall. She blinked to keep them at bay as she looked up. Bently stared back, the look in his eyes somehow different than any other time. There was lust there for sure, but also a flash of something else. His gaze was like quicksand, pulling her in deeper. Stirring and blurring the lines she’d so carefully lived her life by. The intensity of need coiling inside her was threatening to snap.
TJ hooted and hollered in the background and Bently blinked away, as if just realizing what he’d been doing, ending the trance.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
She grabbed her empty cup and went to the kitchen. After shutting the timer off, she grabbed hand mitts before opening the oven. The savory smell of pasta, meat, and cheese permeated the small house. She inhaled as she pulled the casserole dish from the oven and placed it carefully on top. Belle uncovered it, the steam wafting up.
The fine hairs on her arms and neck stood on end as if reaching out towards a source of electricity. She sensed him before he spoke. “Can I help set the table?”
She nodded and pointed without looking up. “Plates are in there.”
He walked over, invading her space one step at a time. She used the spatula to cut the lasagna into pieces, pretending he didn’t affect her. Pretending her body didn’t hum with some unseen energy that crackled and thickened the air between them. Pretending her inner muscles didn’t throb and ache with emptiness. She shook
