Be My Always: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  Because of that… Ariya does too.

  I’m still not sure how to respond when race is brought into the conversation, but the older she gets, the more I wonder if we should be attacking the topic head-on rather than avoiding it.

  I admit, I’m reluctant to follow through. It’s not that I don’t care about her heritage, but why act like we’re different because of something as stupid as pigmentation?

  Ariya’s my sister whether she’s black, white, purple or alien.

  Screw everyone who has a problem with that.

  “I asked Kayla if she liked you,” Ariya says.

  I slip into the chair she just vacated. Lean my elbows on the counter. “And what did she say?”

  “She didn’t answer.”

  “What do you think that means?”

  “Mm…” Ariya rubs her chin and glances up. “She definitely likes you.”

  “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “Do you like her?”

  “Yes.”

  She grins. “So is she sleeping over more often? Will I get a baby niece?”

  “Whoa, whoa. Let’s slow down, kiddo.”

  She thrusts her eyes skyward and plants a hand on her hip. “You’re not getting any younger.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for school?”

  “I already showered. I just have to pull on my clothes.” She frowns as she walks toward me. “What about Mom?”

  I squeeze her shoulder. “I’m working on it.”

  Sadness pools in her brown eyes. “I really, really need her. It’s my first day. She always makes the first day better.”

  “Better how?”

  “I don’t know.” Ariya swirls her fingernail on the surface of the counter. “More fun.”

  “Are you saying I’m boring?”

  “No.” She grins. “You’re just ugly.”

  “Oh, it’s on.” I set my coffee down and launch at her.

  Ariya takes off with a girlish squeal. Her braids sail behind her like two black ribbons. I chase her around the kitchen, finally cornering her in the living room. Picking her up, I drop her into my lap and tickle her side.

  It was easier to hold her down when she was smaller. Now, she kicks her feet and manages to stomp the glasses right off my face.

  I hear something crack.

  Sweeping my hand over the floor, I pick up my glasses. “Really, Ari?”

  “You shouldn’t have tickled me then.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder in a you just got served gesture. Climbing off my lap to the floor, she brushes her pajamas down. “And take the Lexus when you’re dropping me off. Your other car’s too showy. I don’t want all that attention.”

  “I’ll drive what I want to drive,” I tease.

  “Then you can go to jail for child neglect because I won’t be going to school.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  She folds her arms over her chest.

  Sensing how seriously she’s taking this, I back off first. “We’ll use the Lexus. My baby’s getting detailed today anyway.”

  Ariya pats my shoulder and grins. “That’s my boy.”

  “That’s the only reason,” I stress.

  “If you say so.” She waves her hand dismissively and flounces up the stairs.

  Are all kids that obnoxious or is it just my sister?

  I shake my head and grab my cell phone.

  Finding Kayla’s number in my contacts, I type out a message.

  ME: Thanks for the coffee.

  She doesn’t respond.

  I figure she’s busy—dealing with her flooding situation or with work. I don’t allow myself to consider the fact that she’s ignoring me because she doesn’t want to talk.

  It would be too cruel.

  Next, I call Yumi.

  “Any updates?”

  “No. We are keeping watch.”

  “I’ll stop by the office in half an hour. Maybe we can look over the details together.”

  “Okay,” he says curtly and hangs up.

  I check my messages.

  Still no response from Kayla.

  Probably for the best.

  Focus.

  I need to focus.

  And no one knocks me off my game as much as Kayla.

  Sighing as I move from the couch, I plod upstairs to shower.

  Ten minutes later, Ariya and I head to her new school. It’s a private, religious academy that’s closer to my place.

  She’s not very chatty, and I can understand. Starting a new school can be daunting, especially when she’s been pinballing all over the place since third grade.

  “Have a good day,” I tell her as I park in front of the gates.

  “Yeah,” she grumbles. Hauls her school bag out. Slams the door.

  I’m pretty sure my sister’s a moody teenager trapped in a pubescent body.

  It takes me more than half an hour to get to Yumi’s office. Traffic is thick and my patience is thin.

  The clock is ticking.

  It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Mom disappeared.

  I need to see her with my own eyes.

  Confirm for myself that she’s okay.

  Then, and only then, I’ll get Dad back for what he did.

  My fingers tap the steering wheel.

  Impatient.

  I listen to the radio until I’m closer to Yumi’s place.

  As I turn off the freeway, my eyes fall on the parking lot.

  A sea of black SUVs are waiting.

  Like bats from hell.

  My stomach turns to acid.

  I throw the car into a free spot and tear through the front door. The receptionist looks at me with that familiar mixture of awe and fear in her eyes.

  If I needed confirmation, that look is it.

  Dad is here.

  I can always tell by the star-studded, slack-jawed, drooling pedestrians he leaves in his wake.

  The receptionist swallows. “M-Mr. Humes?”

  The name echoes against the walls.

  I grit my teeth until it turns to dust.

  That tremble in her voice, that I’m bracing myself for something anxiety… I hate it.

  My entire life, the sins of my father trickled down to taint me. No matter what I do or say, people see the Humes name, the Humes wealth, the Humes litany of scandals.

  They see my father.

  And they assume we’re one and the same.

  It’s freaking exhausting.

  But it’s not something I can change.

  I ignore the receptionist. With determined movements, I turn the corner and stop short.

  Dad’s suits clutter the hallway. They’re so big and bulky that the wide corridor looks narrow and squashed.

  The head of Dad’s security is guarding the door.

  I stroll ahead, feeding on rage and frustration.

  I’m outgunned and outnumbered, but I’m itching for a fight.

  It’s such a damn shame when the suit steps aside and opens the door for me.

  “Mr. Humes,” he says, tilting his head in deference, black sunglasses hiding his thoughts.

  I glare at him.

  Stalk past.

  Into Yumi’s office.

  Dad is draped in Yumi’s uncomfortable sofa—one arm on the back of it while the other is wrapped around a drink. His eyes are sharp and hard despite the smile tingeing his lips.

  I glance at Yumi.

  Almost keel over from shock when I see the tiny smile on his face.

  As if he’s actually enjoying Dad’s company.

  As if they’re getting along.

  My heart patters.

  A nasty, seedy feeling crawls down my spine. A snake crushing its prey.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned as Dad’s son, it’s that money can move mountains.

  I chose Yumi for his supposed self-discipline, but I made a mistake.

  Dad got to him first.

  My body wilts.

  A thick, draining r
evelation screams through my mind.

  I might never see Mom again.

  Eighteen

  Kayla

  “You saw him again?” Venus shoots me a dirty I can’t believe you waited so long to tell me look.

  As if she has a right to my business the moment something goes down.

  And maybe she does.

  She’s one of my closest friends.

  One of my only friends.

  Goodness, that’s pathetic, isn’t it?

  “His little sister was at Chandra’s. We saw each other by chance.” I shrug. Keep my voice carefully indifferent.

  It’s a challenge as thoughts of last night rush through my head.

  Brendon’s hands all over me. His warmth. His kisses.

  I can still feel it.

  Still feel him.

  It’s like he’s branded me.

  Filled me up so much there’s room for no one else.

  “You’re blushing.” Venus grins hard. It’s her usual I smell a juicy story smile.

  When it comes to gossip, the woman has the nose of a bloodhound. We’ve worked together for four years and been friends just as long, but I still don’t know how she does it.

  “No, I’m not.” I move to the sink to wash out my coffee mug.

  Venus follows. “I want details.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.“

  “So there was kissing.” She grins victoriously. “What else? The more depraved the better.”

  I set my mug in the drainer. Flick the excess water from my fingers. Turn to face her. “I’m not as bold as you.”

  “Which means he made the first move. Keep talking.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Discussing my night with Brendon is edging on dangerous territory. The last thing I need is to start longing for him when I already made it clear that one night is all we’re supposed to have.

  My life is simple.

  For the most part.

  As long as I don’t think about Drew…

  And I don’t.

  “So…” Venus leans against the counter and arches an eyebrow. Where’s the dirt?

  “I ended up spending the night at his place,” I say vaguely.

  Excitement blazes through her eyes. “And how was it?”

  “Good.” More than good. There’s something about Brendon. Not just the way his body felt on mine. Or how tender he was when he kissed me. Or how deep his voice got when he groaned…

  Venus taps my shoulder.

  I jump.

  She grins knowingly. “That’s it? Just good?”

  “Yup.”

  “You got a picture.”

  “Of him?”

  “What he’s working with.”

  I make a face. “Pervert.”

  “Is that supposed to be an insult?” Venus feathers her fingers over her collarbone and shakes her head. Reddish-brown curls fly everywhere.

  She’s stunning and never at a loss for companionship. I’m sure she’s got enough sexual encounters of her own to reminisce over. Don’t see why she has to go prying into mine.

  “I have an appointment,” I say, hustling to the door.

  “No, you don’t.”

  I glare over my shoulder. “You check my schedule now?”

  “No. You’re just a bad liar.”

  I huff.

  “Do you like him?”

  That seems to be the question of the day.

  I avoided it with Ariya, but Venus doesn’t have the attention span of an eleven-year-old. She’s like a pitbull, teeth locked and going for the kill.

  “Of course I like him. I wouldn’t have been with him if I didn’t.”

  “No. You like him.”

  “I don’t do relationships.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “I don’t like anyone.”

  “Your words aren’t matching your eyes.”

  I scowl at her.

  She throws slender arms up. Gold bangles dance to the crook of her elbow. “Don’t get me wrong. I think this is great. Steady companionship is what we peddle around here. Even if I’m more of a commitment-phobe myself. I think it’s about time you got yourself a man.”

  Venus is wrong. Well, not about her being a commitment-phobe. But about Brendon being my ‘man’.

  I like him.

  Maybe a part of me would even accept if he suggested I spend the night again.

  One more time.

  Just one.

  Just to get him completely out of my system.

  But that’s it.

  It can’t mean more than that.

  “I’m glad for you, K.”

  I lift my gaze to hers.

  Venus’s eyes are shining with sincerity. “Since I’ve known you, you walk around with this thick armor. Maybe now you can enjoy yourself. Throw that bulletproof vest off for a bit. Breathe a little.”

  I suck in a deep breath.

  “I know you’re a strong black woman,” Venus says, walking towards me. “But you’re allowed to be vulnerable too.”

  No, I’m not.

  A muscle in my jaw bunches.

  Venus is in front of me now. Her brown eyes peer into my soul. “You deserve to be happy.”

  A vise wraps around my head and squeezes.

  Venus is prying at something dark and ugly. A scar I’ve picked at for so long it’s gotten worse and doesn’t know how to heal.

  It’s great that she thinks I’m worthy of moving on, but she hasn’t heard my story. She hasn’t heard what I’ve done.

  Venus is looking at me like she expects me to say something so I turn to her. “Don’t you have an appointment?”

  “Girl, are you creeping on my schedule?” She laughs. Checks her watch. Curses. “You’re right.” Venus wiggles a finger. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but I’ll be back.”

  “Of course you will.”

  “By the way, what happened with your apartment?”

  “They fixed the leak. The mess wasn’t as bad as I thought, so I can sleep in my own bed tonight.”

  “Will you be alone or…?”

  I roll my eyes.

  She blows me a kiss and glides to her office.

  Just then, my phone dings.

  BRENDON: Thanks for the coffee.

  A smile works its way past my defense and curls my lips. Running off this morning was the right decision, but I can’t say I wasn’t waiting to hear from him.

  Only for closure.

  Nothing more.

  Darting my gaze back and forth, I tuck my cell to my chest and sprint to my office so I can answer in privacy. Venus might still be lurking and I wouldn’t put it past her to grab my phone and ask Brendon for inappropriate pictures just so she can satisfy that corrupt little mind of hers.

  Snapping the door closed with my hip, I pull up his text and start to compose a message when my phone beeps again.

  It’s a reminder alert.

  Death Anniversary: Three Days

  My heart sinks.

  Brendon’s text shuffles to the back of my mind as a sick feeling crawls through my stomach.

  Memories flash.

  “Drew?” My footsteps patter loudly in the open cavern of his living room. “Drew?”

  Silence.

  But the chaos in the room is yelling louder than I am.

  Looks like a tornado just tore through here.

  Throw pillows on the floor. Broken china. Shattered lamp. Glass shards everywhere.

  His prized guitar is smashed into pieces—the head separated from the neck and the strings bent at odd angles in a ghastly picture of violence.

  “Drew?” His name is a prayer now.

  My left hand trembles as I bring the cell phone up to view. Read the message blazing across the screen. The threat sears my eyelids in rigid, black letters.

  No. There’s no way.

  “Drew?”

  I tiptoe to the bedroom. Ease the door open. My breath catches in my throat as each inch of the space revea
ls itself.

  Clothes strewn on the floor. More glass shards.

  The bed is neatly made though. Edges crisp and tucked.

  It’s a habit spilling over from his military days.

  I remember how strict he was about making the bed, sometimes kicking me off it so he could adjust the sheets. That simple chore early in the morning was like his coffee.

  His drug.

  The fluffy comforter sits forlornly.

  Drew’s not on the bed.

  He’s not in the room.

  My heart’s beating fast.

  Thudding. Pounding. Rolling.

  My footsteps quicken.

  Have to find him.

  “Drew.”

  Have to make sure he’s not…

  “Where the hell are you?” I scream. Beg. Plead.

  There’s a trickling sound coming from the bathroom.

  I stop completely. Stand frozen in the hallway. In the warp of dark premonition.

  In the bubbling, mounting guilt.

  Urgency propels me forward.

  Fragile hope. Maybe there’s a chance…

  God, let there be a chance.

  I step forward. Reach out a hand. Plaster it against the door.

  Push.

  I close my eyes, ending the memories playing in my head like a horror movie. Pausing it just before that crucial moment when everything falls apart.

  The darkness is a salve.

  I stay there. Eyes closed to the world. To my thoughts.

  But something is strange.

  The pain is crushing. Like I’m experiencing it for the first time all over again.

  I stumble to the side.

  Grab the desk for balance.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Why does it hurt so much?

  The darkness was a part of me. Nothing’s changed except…

  Brendon.

  Spending the night with him was like pressing reset.

  It screwed with my mind.

  Being free and leaving that pain behind—even if it was just for a short time—shifted my entire being.

  Now, the darkness feels heavier.

  Uglier.

  I crumple to a heap at the bottom of my desk.

  It’s not…

  Damn. The pain.

  I don’t think I can do this all over again.

  Nineteen

  Brendon

  I think I’m about to murder my father.