Be My Light : A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 4)
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Be My Light
Make It Marriage Book 4
Nia Arthurs
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
BE MY LIGHT
Copyright © 2020 Nia Arthurs
Written by Nia Arthurs
Edited by Jalulu Editing
Cover by Oliviaprodesign
(V1)
Also by Nia Arthurs
Caribbean Crush Series
His Exception
Her Deception
The Complication
Grudging Hearts Series
Forever Loving You
Forever Craving You
Forever Claiming You
Make It Marriage Series
Be My Always
Be My Forever
Be My Darling
Be My Lady (A Make It Marriage Short)
Sign up for the Nia Arthurs mailing list
About This Book
Dear Lucas, I’ll get straight to the point.
I need you to sleep with me.
It’s for a good cause.
Despite the horrors of my childhood, I’m fighting to move forward.
That means agreeing to Make It Marriage blind dates.
That means attending college parties where I clearly don’t belong.
That means getting over my trauma of being touched. With the only man in the world who can touch me.
But Lucas is too good a teacher.
And these feelings are far too intense.
When our friends-with-benefits arrangement gets complicated, I’ve got one thing left to do.
Run as far from his love as my feet will take me.
Because I don’t want my darkness to taint Lucas too.
Contents
Prologue
1. Ina
2. Ina
3. Lucas
4. Ina
5. Lucas
6. Ina
7. Ina
8. Lucas
9. Ina
10. Lucas
11. Ina
12. Lucas
13. Ina
14. Lucas
15. Ina
16. Lucas
17. Ina
18. Lucas
19. Ina
20. Lucas
21. Ina
22. Ina
23. Lucas
24. Ina
25. Lucas
26. Ina
27. Lucas
28. Ina
29. Lucas
30. Ina
31. Lucas
32. Ina
33. Lucas
34. Ina
35. Lucas
36. Ina
37. Ina
38. Lucas
39. Ina
40. Lucas
Epilogue
Be My Spark Teaser
Chapter 1
Author’s Note
Stay In Touch
Also by Nia Arthurs
Prologue
Ina
The door creaks.
I hear it like thunder.
And I freeze.
I should get up. Run. Hide.
I don’t.
Because the first time I tried that, he caught me.
And the second—
I tremble.
It’s useless.
I know better now.
The weird thing is… as his shadow gets bigger on the floor of the bedroom, a hazy white cloud settles over my mind and carries me away. All I think about is how the stars on the ceiling are so much uglier than the real ones.
He walks in, and the cloud takes over everything.
My body, the room, the walls—everything but the peeling plastic stars.
I stare at those ugly stars and make a wish.
Please let it be over soon.
One
Ina
This is a college party?
I stand on the sidewalk facing the large house. The stately Victorian struggles to maintain its dignity. But it fails thanks to the people running in and out of the doors.
And the people crowding the lawn.
And yet more people inside, if I can tell from the silhouettes through the windows.
The abundance of red cups takes my breath away.
I don’t need one in my hands to know what it contains.
Booze. Alcohol.
I watch movies.
They’re about the only pleasure I have in life outside of comic books. Which are my number one, all-time favorite things.
College party. Red cups. Alcohol. Horrible decisions.
It’s pretty self-explanatory.
And obvious.
I don’t belong here.
The decision to humor Nellie, my nursing school friend—
No, friend is a bit of a stretch.
Colleague.
Right.
My decision to humor her seems like a grave miscalculation. I know good and well that I’m at least seven years older than all these kids and far too anti-social to enjoy myself.
I take a step back.
My gaze sweeps the lawn again.
Heads bop to the mush (is that supposed to be music?) pounding through the air. Everyone is laughing. Chatting. Flirting. Loving.
This world seems so far removed from mine.
Another step.
Maybe if things were different…
I shuffle back.
Crunch.
I glance down. My dressy wedge heels just smashed a cup.
It’s clear who the victor is here.
Shoes: 1
Red cup: 0
Wincing, I kick the broken cup away.
It rolls awkwardly a couple times before landing in the grass next to a pile of red and orange chunks—wait, is that vomit?
I stare at the cup.
Glance away.
Then I walk back and pick it up, searching for a trashcan.
There are none.
So I stand there, holding a torn, unusable piece of plastic.
Why did I show up again? Why did I sign myself up for this humiliation?
It’s an empty complaint.
I’m here because there’s a part of me that wants to belong. I spent all my years of nursing school on the outskirts. Tonight felt like my last shot to…
I don’t know.
Be something else.
I should’ve known better.
I’m stuck with the skin I’m in.
I’m stuck with the baggage of my childhood.
Maybe if I hadn’t been shattered and put back together again.
Maybe if the cracks weren’t so painful and obvious…
Maybe.
Maybe not.
My past happened, but I wonder if I would have turned out this way regardless. Broken people aren’t the only ones who prefer comic books over college parties, right?
Boring is good.
Boring is nice.
Boring is safe.
And—
Wow…
Yeah…
That’s definitely a broken people thing.
My phone rings.
Grabbing it from my purse, I notice that Mrs. G is calling and hit the IGNORE button. She’ll freak if she hears the music and general sound of chaos around me.
And when she freaks out, everyone freaks out.
Best to avoid it.
I text her back.
ME: Just arrived. Party’s great. I’m having lots of fun.
Lies.
I turn to leave when a slender hand clamps my arm.
I recoil instinct
ively.
I hate people touching me. Really, truly hate it. I’ve gotten better with time and now I can give hugs and shake hands if my mind is prepared and I’m geared up to do it, but I don’t do well with surprises.
I wrench my shoulder and jump back.
“Whoa, whoa.” A familiar voice chuckles. “Ina, it’s me.” Nellie throws her hands up. The contents of her red cup slosh against her dark chocolate skin. Brown eyes—sparkly from alcohol and heavy eyeliner—regard me with a hint of unease. “You okay?”
“F-fine.” I brush my sweater down.
Well… that was embarrassing.
No one at school knows my story and I’ve worked hard to balance my mind—through therapy and killer sessions with Ollie at the gym—so they never suspect my façade.
As long as no one taps my glass armor too hard, I know it won’t shatter.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Nellie says, her voice soft and genuine.
She’s a sweet girl.
Which explains why she’d take pity on the socially awkward older woman all the way in the back row of her lectures.
“You want a drink?”
“No. I’m good.”
Nellie tosses her long black weave. She’s dressed to impress in a skimpy halter-top—the type with the side-boob and cleavage showing—and a mini skirt.
Next to Nellie, I look like a grandma in my red sweater and knee-length pencil skirt. My hair’s crimpy from my twist-out and my lips are red.
That’s it.
I suck in a deep breath.
Comparisons often lead me to dark places. It’s not like I’m new to befriending stunning, confident girls—i.e. Venus Miller.
“Why are you holding that?” Nellie scrunches her flared nose at my cup.
“Oh, I…” With shaking fingers, I slip the broken cup into my purse. “No reason.”
Nellie grins. “Let’s go, girl. The party’s inside.”
I glance around at all the people milling on the lawn.
If the party’s inside, what is this?
My chance to ask is stolen by the thunderous music. The noise slams me the moment I walk through the front doors. A group of girls are dancing together closer to the window. A circle of guys hang back, watching them.
As I walk past, I hold my breath, waiting for one of the guys to point me out and ask why the old hag is here. Their glances bounce right off me. A few take a second look, giving me a once-over, but that quickly fizzles into disinterest.
“It’s awesome, right?” Nellie screams in my ear.
I force what I hope is a yeah, I’m having the time of my life smile.
We’re still near the open door and people are bumping me as they migrate in and out. I lift my hands in a protective stance, taking deep breaths to stay calm.
It’s a party. What did you expect? That you’d have lots of personal space?
We move deeper into the house to what, I’m assuming, is a kitchen.
The door swings open.
I jerk to the side, out of the way, as a group of guys charge out of the room.
Nellie makes a fist at them. “Watch where you’re going!” She twists and gestures to me. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
The door opens again and a blonde flies out. She’s looking behind her at a jock with pale skin as luminous as the moon and the most dazzling eyes I’ve ever seen.
Nellie steps aside just in time.
I don’t.
“Hey! Be careful!”
Too late.
Blondey slams into me.
She shrieks, her arms grappling for something to hold her steady while she falls backward.
Her sharp red claws dig into my shirt.
I hear a rip.
And then I feel myself falling forward.
We both go down.
She keeps screaming.
I grunt.
My purse sprawls, exploding all over the floor and releasing the cup I rescued outside. The red plastic skitters over the wood. I hear it like a gunshot.
The music dies.
Silence.
Then sneakers slap the hardwood floor. I roll over so I’m lying flat on my back, my head tilted up at the same time the boy with the golden eyes gazes down at me.
Two
Ina
Nellie shrieks my name in horror.
Great.
Every eye that hadn’t been turned my way swerves in our direction.
And now they know my name.
Golden Boy smirks. “Falling for me, Trix?”
“Shut up, Jonas.” Trix shoots me a frigid stare.
I pin my lips together and shiver.
Jonas lowers himself to one knee. His eyes are on me, amusement glimmering in their gorgeous depths.
“Aren’t you going to help me up?” Trix snaps.
In a tone I can only describe as ‘Black Mama Bear’, Nellie barks, “How about you get off my friend?”
Jonas swoops in, his arm extended. For a second, I—stupidly—expect him to grab me and lift me to my feet first.
Of course he doesn’t.
He grabs Trix and hauls her up.
With one hand.
Just like that. Like she weighs as much as a bag of cotton. Light as air.
Only Trix isn’t air. She’s hard steel.
I swear, I can hear her mind whirring, planning my death down to the last morbid detail.
Body bag.
Raging river.
Air-tight alibi.
No evidence.
I shudder again.
Why is it so windy?
Trix scrunches her nose like she smells urine. “Did someone invite her?”
“Excuse you?” Nellie tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Oh.” Trix looks her up and down. “You brought her?”
“Yeah? Have a problem with that?”
Slowly, I get to my feet.
Murmurs fill the room as I straighten.
Trix snorts.
Nellie swings around. “Ina!”
“What?”
She grits her teeth and gestures frantically to my blouse.
I look down.
Crap.
Damn.
Hell.
Okay.
My blouse is in shreds. One large square flaps down like a dog’s fluffy ear, leaving my bra strap and the top of my breasts exposed.
My heart beats wildly.
I grab the torn fabric of my blouse and stick it back up to my shoulder, pinning it there with my brown fingers.
Breathe, Ina. Just breathe.
I hear my therapist in my head.
You can’t control people. You can only control your response.
The world is spinning.
This is a nightmare.
But no.
I lived through an actual nightmare.
I can survive this too.
My eyes squeeze shut.
Something warm falls over my shoulders. It smells like cologne—something subtle but expensive. It’s fluffy too. Big shoulder pads. A letterman jacket.
I feel someone shift back and open my eyes.
Jonas.
I rasp my fingers over the fabric on my shoulder.
This jacket… I know it’s his.
The crowd has gone silent again.
I dig my hands into the jacket and mumble, “T-thank you.”
Jonas doesn’t answer. Instead, he kneels, grabbing one of the comic books that fell out of my purse. He lifts it up, pausing before handing it to me. “The Flash 22. Classic.”
I accept the book from him, huddling it to my chest.
This is too embarrassing.
I brought my comics just in case I found a nice corner—that hadn’t already been claimed by star-crossed lovers—to read. I didn’t expect to get knocked over by the original Regina George a la Mean Girls and catch the attention of the star jock.
I’m thirty years old.
It’s my first college party.
&n
bsp; I’ve been here for less than two minutes.
How did this happen?
Jonas smiles. A genuine one that reaches his eyes. In a snap, his face changes from ‘Big, Broody Campus Heartthrob’ to ‘Approachable Guy Next Door’.
His hair is a dark chestnut brown, and it’s shorn low. The freckles over his cheeks and chin add a boyish charm, but his square jaw and rugged cheekbones scream ‘athlete’. There’s a charge about him, something commanding. And a little intimidating.
Nellie grabs the rest of my stuff from the floor. “Come on, Ina.”
My eyes flit up to Jonas. “I’ll return this.”
He doesn’t say anything.
I wrap my arms around my purse, holding it to me like it’s my own personal shield.
People make way as we walk by. It’s different than when I came in.
I was invisible.
Now they see me. And they’re avoiding me like the plague.
I duck my head.
Almost there.
Almost…
Suddenly, I’m jerked back.
I cry out, looping my fingers through the jacket folds before it falls off my shoulders, leaving me exposed again.
Jonas stands behind me, his fingers gripping the scruff of the jacket. His eyes are back to being dark and unreadable.
“What are you doing?” Nellie shrieks. Her nostrils flare. She’s seconds away from going full She-Hulk and tearing Jonas’s arms clean out of their sockets.
It’s a little excessive, but I appreciate her protectiveness.
Jonas stares at me. “When are you bringing it back?”