Be My Forever: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

  Fast.

  Troy. You freaking tease.

  “Still holding out?”

  “Admit it,” I whisper. “You can’t do slow either.”

  “That a challenge.”

  “To see who can lose first?”

  He laughs again. “I’ve got a meeting with my agent this evening. I won’t be able to pick you up so I’ll meet you at home later. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m serious, V. Call me if there’s anything suspicious. I don’t care what. You stub your freaking toenail. You call me, okay?”

  “Don’t worry.”

  A reminder for an appointment pops up on my laptop.

  “I have to go. See you later.”

  We hang up.

  I sigh dramatically.

  Talk about a sucky turn of events.

  Troy won’t be home till later? I was so looking forward to seeing him. Touching him.

  Then a smile grows on my face.

  Oh well.

  It’ll give me plenty of time to get ready.

  I have an outfit in mind that’ll test the limits of that rock hard… restraint.

  Troy’s meeting ends up going over. He calls me, a note of worry in his voice—almost as if he’d ditch the meeting if I so much as hint that I need him.

  I do.

  I need him more than anything.

  But he’s a busy man with galleries clamoring to show his work and publishing houses knocking his door down to get him to design their book covers.

  I have to share him with the world.

  With the people who adore him.

  Deservedly so.

  The man is crazy talented.

  Speaking of… where does he keep all his paintings?

  Since I’m ready, I pad through the house, looking through the rooms I haven’t snooped in yet.

  Troy has a garage off the side of the house, but it’s locked.

  Weird.

  I remind myself to ask him about it later.

  My phone chirps.

  EVAN: Need a ride, sis?

  I text back without thought.

  ME: Yes, please.

  I press SEND.

  Then it hits me.

  Evan doesn’t know I live with Troy.

  Scrambling faster than I ever thought I was capable of, I try to text him back, but he hits me with a response.

  EVAN: On my way.

  Deciding to just meet him at my apartment, I grab my purse and shoes. Hail a taxi. Tell the driver to step on it.

  When I get to my apartment, I head up the stairs.

  The familiar passageway makes my heart thud.

  Someone—I still don’t know who—put a note on my door less than a week ago.

  So much has happened since then.

  It feels like I’m walking through this corridor a completely different person.

  The door looks foreign to me.

  I don’t want to go inside.

  Don’t want to relive that moment.

  I turn to leave and spot my neighbor.

  “Ms. Shayla!” I wave.

  Her eyes brighten. She clumsily moves for her glasses. “Venus. What a lovely surprise. I haven’t seen you around lately. ”

  “I’ve been staying at a friend’s.”

  “Is it because of—” She gestures to my door.

  I chuckle self-consciously. “Oh, well…”

  “It worked. I haven’t seen that stalker since you left. Oh, I almost forgot!” She scrambles back to her apartment. “A box got delivered for you.”

  “Really?” I scrunch my nose.

  I don’t remember ordering anything.

  “Let me get it.”

  Ms. Shayla waddles into her house, still talking. I can hear her voice from outside, though it sounds distant.

  “I wanted to call your young man. Who was it? Troy? But I couldn’t find his business card. I’m always losing things. Forgetting things. My body’s not as young as I feel. ”

  My chest warms.

  I’m locked on that one phrase.

  Your young man Troy.

  Yes, he is.

  Mine, mine, mine.

  Mrs. Shayla appears again, holding a box. “Here you go, dear.”

  “Thank you.” I accept it from her.

  With one last wave and a smile, I head outside to wait for Evan.

  Vehicles cruise past.

  Street lamps blink to life.

  Dusk wanes and night takes over.

  I shuffle from one foot to the next, my fingers rasping over the box wrapped in simple brown paper.

  Curious, I decide to open it before Evan arrives.

  I tear off the lid.

  Inside, there’s a worn teddy bear. One eye missing. Stuffing popping out.

  It’s old and smelly.

  I scrunch my nose. “What the hell?”

  There’s a note.

  A yellow sticky pad.

  Fear skitters up my neck.

  I glance around.

  Shadows dance in the distance.

  The wind howls eerily.

  With trembling fingers, I turn the note around.

  Read it.

  Please tell the truth.

  You have two days.

  My stomach plummets to my toes.

  A roaring starts in my head. Builds and builds until it’s a keening wail.

  I drop the box.

  Step back.

  No.

  Please.

  Whatever this truth is, I don’t want to remember.

  Twenty-Five

  Troy

  I sprint through the doors of the restaurant. Past the hostess at the podium. Straight into the main hall.

  It’s loud and boisterous.

  The décor is all bold colors to match. Red, green and white. Maracas on every table. Big bowls of tortilla chips. Happy smiles. Laughter. Beer.

  I glance around the tables, searching for one face in particular.

  Through the dimness, I spot Venus in a form-fitting red dress. Her head is down. She’s got her fingers in her lap and her back slouched.

  Evan’s words when he called me fifteen minutes ago runs through my head.

  “She said she won’t talk until you get here.”

  I stalk forward. “What the hell happened?”

  Brother and sister look up.

  “Troy.” Evan stands. Slaps my back. “What’s going on, man?”

  “Hey.” Venus offers a watery-smile.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She gestures for me to sit. “I just… didn’t want to have to say this twice.”

  “Say what?” I demand.

  She gestures to the booth.

  I sit beside her instead.

  Evan takes the seat across from us. His eyes flit from me to Venus. “So what’s the big news?”

  “There’s… something I’ve been keeping from you.”

  She takes a long pause.

  I lean forward. Whisper, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

  Tearful brown eyes meet mine.

  My chest thuds.

  I want to absorb her into me.

  Cradle her in my chest where no one can touch her.

  A loud groan grabs my attention.

  Evan covers his mouth with a fist. “Don’t tell me… are you two…?”

  Venus freezes. “No.”

  I tap my fingers on the table, impatient. “Yes, we are.”

  “What?”

  “I like Venus. She likes me. Now…” I shift firmly toward her. In a softer voice, I urge, “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

  Venus’s eyes widen.

  “Y-you’re dating? Since when?” He sputters. “Dude, that’s so—”

  “Yell at me later,” I snap.

  Evan gawks.

  “Venus,” I take her hand, squeeze it lightly, “when Evan called, I almost… my heart dropped. Talk to me. You were fine this morning.” I pause. Terror fills my veins. �
��Did you remember something?”

  She shakes her head. “Sort of.”

  Evan tears his eyes off me and focuses on his sister.

  “I never told you.” She glances up. Looks at me. “Any of you. But… since I was a kid, I’ve been having this dream.” She wets her lips nervously. “I’m in a room, lying on my back. There are stars on the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark ones.”

  I wince.

  Damn. I don’t want to hear this.

  Don’t want to hear that she was hurt as a kid.

  It’s what she’s gearing up to say.

  I can feel it.

  “The door opens.” Tears swim in her eyes. “And a man walks in. I’m so scared, but I can’t move.”

  My hand rises. Touches her back. Rubs a slow circle. I’m here.

  “V… what are you saying?” Evan croaks.

  She puts a shoebox on the table. Uncovers the lid.

  There’s an old stuffed bear inside.

  Is that supposed to be her harasser’s version of a dead rat?

  A threat?

  A warning?

  “For so long, I told myself that dream meant nothing. I thought…” Her voice breaks. “But it’s not. It’s a memory. I remember that stuffed bear.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I just do.” She pulls out a sticky note. “And someone needs me to.”

  I frown. The note is similar to the one she found on her door a few days ago.

  Please tell the truth.

  You have two days.

  “What the hell does this mean?” I growl.

  “I think I might know.”

  Venus and I glance across the table.

  “V,” Evan looks sick, “do you remember our old babysitter?”

  “No.”

  “Back in Belize, Mom had us stay at a daycare. It was run by a Christian couple. They went to the same church and they took care of a lot of the members’ kids.”

  “I-I don’t remember.”

  “You were young. Maybe two years old when we started going. I’d meet you there after school.” Dread pools in Evan’s eyes when he turns to me. “They had a nap room. There were…” his Adam’s apple bobs, “those stupid plastic stars on the ceiling. They’d fall off every once in a while.”

  My fingers curl into fists.

  Bits of my research on Fred Bateman skid through my head.

  Assistant pastor. Wife worked as a baby-sitter. He sometimes helped with the kids.

  Young victim. Prison sentence.

  Too much is lining up.

  “You hated going.” Evan whimpers. “You…” His voice cracks. He ducks his head. Blinks rapidly. “You were three. It started all of a sudden. I remember how much of a fuss you put up when Mom dressed you to go to daycare.”

  I feel wetness building in my own eyes.

  Evan slams his fist on the table.

  Glasses clink together.

  “I hated you.” He sniffs. Brokenly, he mutters, “I thought you were spoiled and selfish. Couldn’t you see that mom was working her butt off? That she was having a hard time with Dad gone? I told you to shut up. Sometimes I’d hit you…”

  Venus is crying.

  I pull her to me.

  She feels so fragile.

  I want Evan to shut up.

  But she needs this.

  We all need to hear so we can find the culprit. So this madness with the notes and the threats can stop.

  “Then, a few days before you turned four, Mom suddenly pulled you out of the day care. A week later, we were packing up our stuff and moving to the States.”

  “Because of the…” I can’t say it. “Because of the scandal?”

  He nods. “I didn’t find out until years later. Papi let it slip when he was drunk. The reason we came to live with him. The reason we had to leave Belize… was because of what happened back then.”

  “To me,” Venus whispers.

  “I-I don’t know. That part was never clear. I was too scared to bring it up. I thought… it wasn’t something that affected you. You were happy. You were better off not even remembering.”

  “But I did,” she cries softly.

  It breaks my heart.

  Every. Single. Tear.

  More than anything, I want to take that pain away.

  Sucking in a breath, I take Venus’s hand and whisper, “Let’s go home.”

  “I’ll take you,” Evan says.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “No, I insist.”

  I slant him a look. “She’s living with me.”

  Evan stops in his tracks. Stares at me. Long and intense.

  Slowly, he ducks his chin. “I’m still coming with you.”

  I nod.

  Venus rides with me.

  Evan drives behind.

  She doesn’t say much.

  Neither do I.

  When we get inside, she whispers that she needs some space and heads to her room.

  I wince when the door slams shut.

  She shouldn’t be by herself.

  Not right now.

  I want to be with her, but I also want to respect her wishes.

  The doorbell chimes.

  Evan.

  I swerve, heading the other direction.

  He steps in when I open the door. “Where is she?”

  “In her room.

  He starts for the stairs, his expression thunderous.

  I slam my palm to his chest.

  Not enough to hurt. Just enough to get his attention.

  “She wants to be alone,” I say quietly.

  Evan bobs his chin down twice. Presses a thumb to the corner of his mouth. Turns.

  Suddenly he whirls back around, fists high.

  He clobbers me in the chin.

  I stumble, almost losing my balance.

  Stars dance in my eyes.

  It blindsided me.

  I should have expected it, but I’m still shocked.

  “The hell were you thinking?” He pokes a finger in my direction. “All this crap was going down and you didn’t call me? Not even a damn text?”

  I don’t defend myself.

  Venus wanted to handle it alone. I barely got my behind in her business.

  But Evan won’t want to hear that.

  And frankly, it doesn’t matter.

  What’s done is done.

  “And then,” he barks out a dry laugh, “I find out you’re dating her behind my back? My baby sister?”

  “I’ve liked her for a long time, Ev.”

  “Screw you. You knew Venus had it bad for you and you ran halfway across the country.”

  “For the art scholarship.”

  “Bull. You would’ve never left our family. You ran because she was annoying you.”

  “Listen to yourself.” I step toward him. My brows lower. “Does that even make sense? I left because she was barely legal and I loved her, man. I didn’t want to mess up. I didn’t want to hurt her or hurt your family.”

  Evan’s eyes widen.

  I turn away. Run a hand through my hair. Inhale a deep breath.

  Silence reigns.

  He speaks quietly from behind me. “I’m not going to apologize for hitting you.”

  “It’s fine. I deserved that.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m her brother.”

  “Of course.”

  He stumbles back. “You call me.”

  “I promise I will from now on.”

  He claps my shoulder.

  I face him.

  His eyes are tearful. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through. How do you even process—?” He sniffs.

  I nod in understanding.

  Evan’s my best friend.

  Venus owns my heart.

  This family was all I had.

  They’re still all I have.

  I’d do anything, anything to protect them.

  I just don’t know how.

&nbs
p; Twenty-Six

  Venus

  I angrily toss my tears away. Emotions collide in my chest—anger, pain, hurt.

  I hate that everything feels so out of my control. Hate that strangers are manipulating my life. Meddling. Stirring up a part of me that I buried for a reason.

  The truth is killing me.

  Someone wants me to share it. Someone wants me to stuff it.

  Screw them both.

  They have no right to stampede through my world and leave a mess.

  I grab my cell phone.

  Check through my old texts.

  SENDER 1: You are a liar.

  SENDER 1 : Say anything and you’re dead.

  The bastard.

  I call the number.

  Just like last time, it rings and rings.

  No answer.

  But I don’t give up.

  I’m not scared anymore.

  I’m pissed. And now I know exactly what they’re trying to shut me up about.

  The phone clicks.

  Goes to that annoyingly professional voicemail.

  I call again.

  “Answer the damn phone, you creep!” I shriek.

  In my head, the echoes of that stupid dream play on repeat.

  I hear the thud of his footsteps.

  Fred.

  Fred Bateman.

  The footsteps have a name, a face.

  The line clicks.

  No answer.

  Dial again.

  That awful song that always plays in the background makes sense now. It’s probably from a kid’s program—one of those cheesy, popular ones. Day care. Kids programs. Stupid, high-pitched songs.

  Click.

  “The number you are dialing is not answering…”

  I roar. Grab the chair by the desk. Toss it.

  It crashes into the door. Clatters to the floor. Wheels spin like a top gone awry.

  I call again.

  “Venus!” Evan yells.

  They’re downstairs.

  They probably heard the noise.

  No, they definitely heard it.

  The sound of rushing feet and worried grunts tells me they’re coming up.

  “The number you are dialing is not answering…”

  Again.

  “You can’t hide from me,” I hiss.

  The knob rattles. Someone’s trying to get in.

  Fists thud against the wood. “Venus, open up.”

  That’s Troy.

  I imagine his face—reddening skin, brown eyes wide, eyebrows knotted. Please let me in.

  I can’t.

  Not yet.

  I ignore them.

  All I want is my life back.