Get it together. He’s fine. Bently’s fine.
The doors opened and two men pushed a stretcher inside, a white blood-stained sheet covering a body. Bile rose in her throat. Her heart screamed at her that something was wrong. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as Bently’s ashen face came into view behind the stretcher. All the color had drained from his complexion. His bloodshot eyes had turned dark. His brown uniform was saturated in crimson.
Oh my god. Bently!
Chapter 44
Belle
She sucked in a breath, tears burning her eyes as she tried to pull herself together. She was going to make a terrible sheriff’s wife.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He dragged his gaze to hers as if they’d been weighed down by something heavy. She reached out, checking him with gloved hands for injuries, taking care over the site of his gunshot wound from a few weeks prior. None of the blood seemed to be his. His body was tense and trembling. His chest heaved. Blood-stained hands gripped her wrists as tears shimmered in his eyes.
“I’m fine.” His voice cracked and broke as if he’d swallowed shards of glass.
“No, you’re not.”
Bently’s body quaked as a storm of energy bellowed from him, swirling and swallowing up all the attention in the room. It had grown silent as she stared up at him worriedly. Fury radiated from him.
Fear slithered around her spine. A warning blared in the back of her mind. Something was very wrong. “Bently? Was it one of your officers?”
He grimaced. “I’m so sorry.”
“What?”
He gripped her face in his hands, his gaze steady and unwavering despite the fear bleeding from his eyes. “I love you. Please don’t forget that I love you.”
“You’re scaring me, Bently.”
“I tried—” His voice choked. His eyes darted towards the room with the sheet-covered body and time stopped. The pieces clicked into place. Officer-involved shooting. Air ceased to exist, ripped from her lungs as she shook her head.
No. No. No!
Belle turned and ran to the room before pulling back the blood-stained sheet. Hands gripped her, tugging her back as TJ’s open eyes stared up from the stretcher. Empty. Vacant. He was no longer here. Her brother. My brother! No!
A guttural scream pierced the air as her lungs burned. She floated high above her body in the corner of the room, watching herself struggle against the nurses who tried to drag her out, away from the dead corpse of her brother. Bently stopped them, holding her up. His touch jolted her back into her body.
Screams tore from her throat as her knees buckled. Her stomach emptied itself on the floor. She panted, gasping for oxygen as her body shook. Bently’s arms wrapped tightly around her. His mouth moved, but his words went unheard. She pounded her fists into his chest, relentless and unforgiving. The glint of his badge was the source of her aggression. She ripped it from his shirt, pushing him away. He just held on tighter.
TJ was gone. Her sweet boy had been murdered. He’d had his whole future ahead of him. He was going to be a doctor. He was going to be a dad someday. He was going to fall in love. He was going to . . . No. He wasn’t going to do anything now. Because someone had stolen his future with a bullet and a badge.
She gasped, trying to suck in oxygen despite the heavy weight crushing her chest. It hurt too much. The agony of her heart being ripped from her sternum was overwhelming. She screamed, wailing from the loss. It was all too much. She needed to escape. Belle gave in. She held her breath and closed her eyes, chasing the darkness. She wanted to switch places.
Let him live. Take me.
Her prayers fell on deaf ears, swallowed up by the empty space that took everything good in her life. All that was left were death and destruction. Emptiness and horror. Devastation and darkness. And she wanted none of it. Without TJ, she didn’t have a reason to keep going. Without him, life wasn’t worth living.
***
Belle’s eyes fluttered open. She winced in the harsh light. Her head pounded. Machines beeped. Where am I? She gasped. It wasn’t just a bad dream. TJ was really gone. Her life was now the real nightmare.
Bently’s worried expression was grim and somber as he held her hand. Pain etched in the shadows on his face, but something more sinister lurked in the darkness of his eyes. Guilt.
Could he have? No.
“Who?” One word was all she was capable of. She wanted the name of her brother’s murderer. She wanted to know what had happened.
Bently’s jaw ticced as he swallowed and looked down. “One of my neighbors called nine-one-one. Reported a break-in at my address.”
She swallowed the emotion down. She couldn’t fall apart again. She owed TJ this.
“They saw him moving the boxes.” Bently’s voice broke as tears streamed over his face.
She watched as they dripped along his jaw, falling to the bed. Drip . . . Drip . . . Drip.
“Officer Luke Parsons was first on the scene. I’d been at Remy’s getting coffee.” His grip tightened, the shame so thick and heavy in the room it was suffocating.
Parsons. Officer Parsons was the dick who had given her a hard time at the station. The one who’d looked down at her like she was scum.
“By the time I heard the radio—it was too late.” He choked up.
“He was shot in your house. Moving boxes in. By one of your officers. One of your neighbors called the police because a Black boy was in their neighborhood.”
“I’m so sorry, Angel. I don’t know what to say. I can’t fix this.” His voice was tormented.
“Why did they shoot? TJ wasn’t a threat. He’s a good boy. He was going to save lives. He—he was—”
“I know, baby. I know. I’m so sorry.”
Had TJ been scared? Had he died alone? Did he
