Page 18 of Defended By Bam
I cocked a brow. “That seems like a trick question.”
She cocked her head. “I’m not trying to trick you,” she said, her dimples deepening with her smirk.
I took a bigger sip of coffee, then said, “I hope you don’t think I’m full of shit. I try to be straightforward. I’d imagine being in your shoes would make it hard to trust any man.”
Her eyes turned down. “Maybe. The fucked up part is I think I knew all along he was bad. I just ignored that little voice, even when it was yelling at me. I–nevermind. You don’t want to hear this.”
I walked to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “I got nothing but time. Well, at least until this afternoon.”
She brought her mug to the table and sat, the shorts riding further up her thighs. The hint of a strap mark peeked around the side of her thigh, way up high. Trying to keep my temper in check, I took a seat across from her and listened to her story.
Chapter 10
Brooklyn
Three cups later, I was wired but feeling lighter. Bama didn’t talk much or ask a lot of questions. He just listened. I hadn’t had anyone to talk to in so long, the last few years of hell just poured out of me.
As I recounted all of it, I felt stupid. The writing was there on the wall.
“Everything screamed ‘bad decision’, but I kept thinking things would get better. And he always saidwhenwe got me settled into the house, he’d check out marriage stuff. And then it waswhenthe baby came. Then it waswhenhe got a promotion. When, when, when. And when never came.”
“What did your family think of him?”
Sighing, I said, “I don’t talk to my dad. They divorced when I was young, and he started a new family and that was the last I heard. Mom thought he was great. I tried talking to her and she basically told me to suck it up.” I went to take a sip of coffee, and the mug was empty, so I pushed it away. “She told me he was a good man, a cop, and he was taking care of us, so I needed to be a better woman. Haven’t talked to her since.”
Bama stood and grabbed my mug. “You want more? We polished off this pot but I can make another.”
“No. I shouldn’t have had as much as I did. My nerves are already shot. The extra caffeine won’t help that.” I didn’t have my phone and wasn’t sure the local news here would even mention it if Marshall had reported us missing.
Standing, I twisted at the waist then stretched. My eyes landed on Bama, and he was watching me again. It was hard to read him, but he didn’t look at me with pity. He told me several times he kept noticing the marks and bruises, but something in his eyes was more than empathetic. Or maybe I just wished someone would look at me like something other than a cocksleeve or punching bag and like a woman.
My feelings were confusing. I hadn’t been turned on in a long time. Marshall was fit, and he used to be handsome. I stopped physically wanting him once he started abusing me, though. Even with how I used to feel about him, he didn’t hold a candle to Bama.
This man was the kind you thought about with the detachable shower head. He was tall and built. He moved with a quiet confidence, but not arrogance. The tattoos scattered over his skin only added to that fantasy allure. But he wasn’t what I expected the first time I saw him.Was that only hours ago?
Bama’s presence was calming and all-consuming at the same time. I was still on edge wondering what Marshall was doing;was he looking for us, or did he report us missing? But overall, I was comfortable–relaxed.
It wasn’t lost on me that when I mentioned Glenda he explained they weren’t a thing. Why would it matter? He could have just shrugged it off. I was about to ask him a stupid question but before I could, he spoke.
“I gotta run to the clubhouse and check-in then have some errands. You’ll be safe here. Help yourself to anything in the fridge and you can shower or whatever.”
The small fire that had been trying to ignite low in my belly was stamped out. “Okay. Do you care if I turn on the TV for her when she wakes up?”
“Anything here you’re welcome to. I have more guns in my closet, so maybe keep her out of there, but that’s it. What are your sizes?”
I blinked rapidly. “Um, sizes?”
He washed the mugs in the sink as he said, “You know, shoe sizes, pants, shirts.”
“Way to put a girl on the spot. Sadie’s in seven-eight clothes in the kid’s sizes, and kid’s one in shoes.” I looked down for a minute, and realized he’d seen me without a bra in cotton jammies, so the jig was up. “I’m in twelve pants, large shirts, size eight women’s shoes. But I’m really okay. I brought a few things.”
“You have maybe two outfits each in that little ass bag. It’s hot and muggy here so you’ll need clothes, especially her. I’m gonna catch a shower and be back later. I don’t want to wake her up, so can you go grab some clothes for me?”
Trying not to ogle his bare chest and abs, and sad about him covering them up, I nodded. “Sure. Just tell me where it all is.”
After he told me where to find some underwear, socks, jeans, and a t-shirt, I tip-toed into the bedroom. The curtains weredark, but just enough sunlight peeked around them to let me see the closet and chest of drawers.
I opened the closet door slowly, thankful it wasn’t squeaky, and pulled down the first pair of jeans I found. The shirts were neatly folded in the drawers, and again I grabbed the first one I saw.
