Preacher Sanger shakes his head. “Makes me wonder what type of education I’ve even been payin’ for the past four years.”
My heart pinches with the urge to walk over and stand at her back. Steal away the heaviness in her stance and let it rest on my shoulders, instead.
“But I…” Becca’s voice trails off.
Her father walks closer, his hands coming to lay on her shoulders. “Do you truly believe I would let my daughter live broke and destitute? I’ll always be holdin’ the strings to tie you back together.”
Does he really think his daughter is so weak?
My nostrils flare with the strength it’s taking me to hold back my thoughts. I need to leave before I say something I’ll regret, the last thing I want to do is make things worse for her.
“Anyway, now that I’ve sent my sister’s congrats in person, I should head out.” I lock my eyes on Becca. “Congratulations, Becca. Ma would be so proud.” My voice catches on the last word.
Becca’s lips part on a gasp, her eyes growing glassy as she mumbles out her thanks.
I want to drag her out of the apartment. Wrap her in my arms, and shield her from her parents’ ugly truths. But it’s hard to use your limbs when they’re tied behind your back.
So I leave alone, reassuring myself the constraints are temporary.
She’s graduating. Finally.
And tonight, everything will change.
28
Becca
There’s something desensitizing when you finally welcome in your demons.
I’m a fool.
Truly the dumbest woman on the planet, thinking I could hack it on my own. I can’t even be pressed to check into the logistics of where I hand my money. Or who I hand it to.
I’ve known betrayal. Felt it slamming into the depths of my soul and spreading like ivy. Turns out, it never really leaves. Just remains stagnant until something pours water on its seeds, allowing it to grow.
I didn’t know Sabrina held the watering can. But now I do.
How could she?
I make it through the graduation ceremony, but while most celebrate the breaking of their chains, wings spread and ready to soar, I feel mine clamping down and stuttering my flight. Strange, how the same experience can affect people so differently.
Sabrina tries to talk to me, tries to tell me congratulations, but I find only silence to offer. I can’t even look at her. Can’t stand what I’ll see.
I’m quiet as my family walks into the upscale restaurant to “celebrate.” Despondent as we sit at the table. Papa orders for all of us, just like he always does. He has to be in control of everything. I’m sure he’s thrilled at my new subdued personality.
I was so close. At least, I thought I was, but everything I thought I knew was an illusion, put together by the ones I’m supposed to trust.
I’ve been outplayed in a game I didn’t even know I was in. The realization is a bitch-slap to my psyche, reaffirming the truths my mind has always whispered, but I’ve tried so hard to ignore.
I ache to leave here and go to Eli’s. Lay in his arms, and feel the comfort of his embrace. Beg him to fuck me unconscious, so my thoughts don’t torture me in my dreams.
We’re halfway through the meal before conversation is attempted. I’ve been playing with the food on my plate, my appetite lost after realizing I’ve been living in a cage with a view.
“I assume you’ll be comin’ home with us?” Papa asks.
My chest pulls tight. “No, Papa. I’m not comin’ home.”
He dabs his mouth with a red cloth napkin, then throws it on the table. “Enough, Rebecca. I let you live your life this semester. You have responsibilities in Sugarlake. I want you home where I can make sure you don’t sully our name.”
I pick up my glass, taking a sip while I mull his words. I lick my lips as I set the water down. “A little late for all that, don’t you think?”
Papa’s face grows as red as my hair, and a spike of satisfaction splits my face into a grin. “Besides, I don’t think I do have responsibilities there. The church is your legacy, not mine.”
He scoffs, his chair scratching against the floor as he jerks to stand. Pointing to me, his mouth straightens into a firm line, before he turns toward Momma. “Talk to your daughter. Maybe you can get it in her thick head I’m not givin’ her a choice.”
He storms away, moving to walk past the bar and then suddenly stopping. Momma and I watch as he sidles next to a curvy brunette. He doesn’t even try to hide it. Pig. Nausea curdles my stomach when I think about how I used to look up to that man—used to think he was my everything.
I never see things the way they really are.
“How can you just let him disrespect you like that, Momma?” I wave my arm toward the bar, my nose scrunched.
She sighs, sipping on her water. Wishing it was liquor, I’m sure. She’s always been a closet drinker. There were many nights growing up where Lee, Lily, and I would raid her secret stash.
“I made an oath in front of God to honor and cherish him all the days of my life, and I’ll hold true to my word.”
“Even when he doesn’t?”
Her gaze spears me with its sadness, and there’s a familiarity, beyond our genes, tugging me into its depth.
“He means well, you know. He loves you—”
I huff out a laugh.
“He does. Somewhere along the way, I think he just forgot he was supposed to show it.”
My throat thickens.
“I had many good years with that man.” She glances toward the bar, shaking her head, her eyes darkening.
Papa is laughing, his head thrown back, while he chats with the brunette who clearly doesn’t mind the ring on his finger. I’ve known Papa was a cheat, but I’ve never seen him flaunt it this way. I guess when he’s out of town, he can’t be bothered to keep on the religious cloak that hides the snake underneath.
“There was a time…” She clears her throat, swallowing back whatever emotion was trying to break through her poised stature. “There was a time I thought he would move mountains to be with me. Looked at me like I was all he could see.”
Momma’s head angles down as she meets my stare. “He looked at me the way Elliot Carson looks at you.”
My heart slams so hard against my ribs I’m surprised they don’t break. “I’m not sure what you mean, Momma.”
She chuckles, reaching out to pat my hand. “You do. But you won’t admit it, to me or to yourself, I reckon. You’re so like me, Rebecca Jean. In so many ways.”
I tamp down the bile rising up my esophagus. There are a lot of things I aspire to be. Kind. Loving. Free. Turning into Momma is not on that list.
“Men are skilled at weavin’ their words. Makin’ them pretty. Puttin’ dumb ideas in your head and promisin’ you the world.”
Bitterness coats her words, slicing into my ears like a blade.
My stomach twists. “But all men are liars, right?”
She nods. “If you remember anything I’ve ever taught you, Rebecca Jean, remember that.”
“What happens when the woman’s a liar too?” My elbows rest on the table.
Her fingernails tap against her glass. “I’m not quite sure what you’re insinuatin’.”
I should stop talking. Cut my losses and try to salvage what’s an already ruined dinner. But years of resentment billow in my chest, pumping from my heart, and pouring into my veins.
“Momma, come on. You prance around in public for Papa, actin’ like the perfect little preacher’s wife. But there’s a reason your liquor is clear, and your water glass is always full.”
Momma’s eyes narrow, her lips pursing. “When did you become so disrespectful?”
“When did you become so weak?”
Her wince pulls at the seams of my heart, but I don’t apologize. I’m so exhausted. Tired from a lifetime of watching a strong woman wither away into this doormat.
“Givin’ my life to Jesus does not make me weak, young lady.”
> “No, but givin’ your life to Papa sure does.”
Her hand slaps the table. “I’ve accepted the twists and turns that brought me to where I am in life. I’ve learned to be at peace with the way things turned out. With the decisions I’ve made. You hate how weak I seem? Well you better get ready, because twenty years ago I was you. Thinkin’ I had the world at my fingertips, and the love of a perfect man.”
I suck in a breath, my insides churning from the torrential downpour of her words.
No. I will not be my momma.
She leans in, her voice low. “But while you get lost in your illusion of love, the world keeps spinnin’. It’ll spin right outta your grasp. And all those years you spent tryin’ to break free? Wasted. You’ll be tied down and stuck anyway.” Weariness paints her features. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I roll my eyes to try and stem the tears, turning my head to the side and crossing my arms over my chest. But her words dig through the cavity in my chest, knocking against the cage that holds my heart, seeking to destroy.
29
Becca
“You okay?”
Eli’s voice floats through the air, caressing my dilapidated soul, but the wounds are too deep, and even his balm doesn’t curb the sting.
I nod my head, sinking into the nook of his arm as we lie on his bed.
Eli has this way of knowing what I need before I can verbalize it. Took one look at me when I showed up, and walked me to his room, pushed me on the bed, and fucked me so hard he left bruises.
His fingers ghost up and down my arms, goose bumps sprouting to mark the places he’s touched.
“Have your folks always been such assholes?”
“Not always,” I murmur. “When I was little, they used to be like any other folk, I guess. Or, maybe I was just blind to what was really goin’ on.”
Looking back, it seems more likely I was an unknowing participant of a carefully crafted show. Probably would have played my part forever, if I hadn’t stumbled behind the scenes and ruined the whole damn storyline.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I sigh. “I’m used to them bein’ who they are. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
I taste salt on my lips, and realize tears have been trickling down my face, soaking into Eli’s skin. He doesn’t acknowledge the proof of my pain, and a gooey warmth spreads through my chest—so damn thankful he knows not to bring it up.
“What do you want to do?” Eli’s palm grazes against my jaw as he angles my head toward him.
“I wanna stay here, in Florida. Figure out what the hell I’m gonna do with my life. But I don’t know how to make that happen when I’ve got nothin’.” My eyes close and I lean into his touch, reveling in the comfort.
“You’ve got me,” he whispers.
My eyes snap open, latching on to his. A tsunami of this… feeling rises up and crashes against the edges of my soul, sweeping me away in its wake. Desperation claws at my insides, and I dive into him, molding our lips, needing him to steal away the sensation before it drowns me with its power.
My hands cup his face, melding us together.
I need him closer.
His arms tighten around my waist and he rolls us, his large frame settling over me. I moan into his mouth, his thickness pressing into the junction between my thighs. We’re still naked from earlier, and I thank God there’s nothing to slow this down. Not when my need is so all-consuming.
He breaks our kiss, his head leaning back, thumbs sweeping across my cheeks as he cradles my face. The intensity of his gaze sizzles in my stomach, and my breath snags on the feeling.
He swallows, his grip tightening along my jaw. “Becca, I lo—”
My heart crashes against my sternum. My finger trembles as I push it against his lips. “Don’t.”
The lines between his brows crease.
Reaching down, I wrap my fingers around his thick cock, feeling it jump against the palm of my hand.
I push my upper body off the bed, stroking him, our breaths mixing in the space between us. My hips start a slow grind, his tip dragging through my folds as my hand works his length. He pants, his teeth grazing my bottom lip.
I move him to my entrance. “I don’t want your words. I need you to show me.”
His eyes darken. I pull him in at the same time he drops down, and I cry out from being so full.
He’s seated deep inside me, hip to hip. There isn’t an inch of our bodies not connected, but I don’t feel confined from his touch. I feel free.
He grasps my arms, pushing them above my head. His fingertips skim along my skin, prickles of electricity sinking into my pores. My blood is a conductor, spreading the current, striking my heart into a faster cadence.
Our fingers link, and his palms push my hands deeper into the mattress as he finally, finally, moves.
I moan as he pulls out and drives back in.
Heat lances into my core, my pussy walls pulsing around him. He keeps a steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving mine, our lips brushing with each thrust, his touch showing me what I won’t let him say.
This isn’t a power play. It’s not about control.
This is a confession.
Sweat beads along his brow, and glistens on his neck. I lean in, licking his salty skin. His Adam’s apple bobs under my tongue, and his hips jerk, the rhythm faltering.
“Christ, Becca,” he breathes, his forehead resting on mine. “I can’t…”
I squeeze our hands, still locked above my head, and I place my mouth on his, unable to resist the call of his lips. His body. His soul.
His taste is heady. My muscles cinch and release, tension looping and tangling until I’m twisted so tight I can barely breathe.
I break away, gasping in air, careening over the cliff of my pleasure.
My vision goes white.
My ears go numb.
My stomach soars then sinks, and I cling to Eli’s frame to keep from disintegrating to dust.
I surrender to the fall.
I’m vaguely aware of Eli’s body shaking as he comes deep inside me. He collapses, breathing hard. After a few moments, he rolls to the side.
“Damn.” He chuckles. Facing me, he props his head in his hand, a carefree smile lighting up his face. “Move in with me.”
“Wh… what?” I stutter.
“Yeah.” He grabs my hand, bringing it to his chest. Moving closer, he palms my jaw. “I want to be with you, baby girl.” He pecks my lips. “See you every morning.” Another peck. “Kiss you every night.”
Imagining him by my side each night has my heart floundering in my chest.
“Besides, you need a place to stay anyway, yeah?” He lifts a brow.
I giggle. “You tryin’ to be my white knight, Eli?”
He smirks. “Of course. Don’t you know by now I would move mountains for you?”
My grin stays plastered on my face, but my blood turns glacial, freezing in my veins.
His smile drops. “What just happened? What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, touching my lips to his, trying to kiss away the acrid taste creeping onto the back of my tongue. “Nothin’s wrong. I’ll think about it, okay?”
His grip on my jaw tightens. “Becca... I love you.”
No.
My eyes squeeze tight, my head turning to the side.
His hand pulls me back. “You know that, right? I’m so damn lost in my love for you.”
I nod sharply at his words, my fingers tugging on my curls.
“Becca?” His voice is soft, pleading.
I don’t open my eyes.
With a deep sigh, he kisses my forehead and leaves the bed.
My eyes snap open, my gut burning with the need to call him back, but the screams in my head stop the words on my tongue.
It’s late when Eli finally comes back and falls asleep.
Silence blankets the ground, but the quiet is a fraud. Momma’s voice drains from my mind to my heart, piercing holes through
the tissue, leaching away the serenity I’ve worked so hard to find. My body fights the intrusion, desperate to stay whole. Anguished in its plea to forget that Eli spoke pretty words I begged him not to say.
But I can’t forget.
I don’t want to be Eli’s disease.
Sliding out of the bed, I’m careful not to wake him as I pick up my clothes. Halfway through putting on my jeans, realization of what I’m doing hits and my heart splinters, the shards prodding against my lungs. My hand covers my mouth to muffle the cry.
I pause at the bedroom door. My hand shakes against the metal knob, causing a sharp rattle to puncture the calm air. My blurry eyes close, and I focus on the noise. Anything to keep me from turning around.
It doesn’t work. I look anyway.
Eli’s sleeping peacefully. Beautifully. Perfectly. My heart sputters and falls, diving into my stomach and laying there to bleed.
“There was a time I thought that man would move mountains for me.”
I will not become my momma.
With a deep breath, I turn the handle and slip out the door.
30
Eli
It’s the glare of the sun that wakes me. It beams through the curtains, my eyes squeezing tight against the shine. I roll to my side, arms reaching to pull Becca in. Only… I grasp a ghost, my fingers meeting Egyptian cotton instead of her supple skin.
My eyes crack open, forehead scrunching as I gain a bearing on my surroundings. I look around, but don’t see Becca in the room.
Maybe she’s already up?
I stretch before getting out of bed, throwing on a pair of boxer briefs, and stumbling to the bathroom. It’s empty. Grabbing my phone, I head downstairs, the flipping of my stomach urging my feet to move fast.
“Becca?” Her name echoes off the walls I still haven’t filled, and a prickle creeps up my spine.
I reach the kitchen.
Empty.
Dropping onto a barstool, I light up my phone screen. No missed calls. No messages.
I dial her number, not bothering to bring the phone to my ear—straining to hear it ring somewhere in the house. My insides cramp when there’s nothing but silence. I hang up and try again. Straight to voicemail this time.
Beneath the Stands: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romance (Sugarlake Series, Book Two) Page 13
