Page 22 of Defended By Bam
He had body wash that was also a shampoo combo, but his hair was short, so he probably didn’t need anything else. Even so, it looked so soft. If I went a day without conditioner, my hair was like straw.
I cleaned up quickly so I could check on Sadie. She was planted firmly on the couch watching cartoons, so I went back in and brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and swiped on some mascara, concealer, and tinted moisturizer. It was silly to even worry about that now, but somehow still putting on my mascaramade me feel better and while I couldn’t hide my lip and bloodshot eye, covering the damage that I could to my face could make it easier for Sadie to look at me.
My hair would have to air dry. I packed as lightly as possible and left behind most of my skincare and cosmetics. There wasn’t room for a hairdryer and flat iron.
Sadie could use some time outside, but Bama told me to stay put and stay inside. Not knowing if Marshall had reported us missing or if he was looking for us had me on edge still, so I decided we’d just wait until he returned before we went out. We watched a couple of kid movies together I found on cable before I made Sadie a sandwich and I snacked on chips I found.
Sadie went back to watching more TV after we ate. My boredom and curiosity had me wandering around the small but cute house, though. I didn’t go through the drawers or anything, but I poked my head into the other room which only housed some boxes and various leather items. Running my hands over the worn and soft material, I gathered it was riding gear.
I’d never been on a motorcycle. I’d never even been close to one, besides maybe walking past one in a parking lot. It wasn’t because I was scared, not that I wasn’t. I’d just never had the opportunity. I was barely eighteen when I met Marshall and he didn’t have one or ride one.
The sound of tires and the low rumble of the truck had me peeking out of the blinds. Bama turned around the truck and started backing it up. “Shit.” I didn’t want to be caught snooping around, so I hustled out of the room and flew onto the couch.
“Mommy, you’re silly!” Sadie squealed.
“Shhh, it’s a game. I’ve been here the whole time.”
After a few heavy steps outside, the doorknob jiggled then the door opened as bags rustled. I rushed to get up and take some from him.
“I got it. Take a load off,” Bama said as he walked past me and put the bags on the table.
“Is there more?” I asked, peeking outside.
“I think I got the bags. But I may need help guiding that inside.”
I walked closer to the door and stepped onto the porch. There were mattresses wrapped in plastic in the bed of the truck, and from the looks of it, something underneath.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“I don’t mind y’all sleeping in my bed, but I don’t enjoy the couch, so I got a daybed thing. They said it has a trundle underneath. If y’all don’t want to use it, I will. Here,” he said as he opened the bed and pulled out two bed-in-a-bags. The bedding was definitely geared towards kids with bright purple and pink shades. “Oh, there’s a booster seat in the front. Not very fancy but said it was for her age.”
My breath hitched. “I—you didn’t have to do this.”
He didn’t stop dragging the mattress off the top, so I ran back to the door and tossed the bags inside. “Sadie, you stay right there so you don’t get in the way, okay?”
She smiled wide, staring at the bedding.
He was mostly handling the mattress on his own, but there was no reason I couldn’t help, so I ran back out and grabbed the other end. He gave me an annoyed look but when I shrugged, he said, “Alright, I’ll step backwards on the count of three. Let me know when I’m getting close to the steps.”
After he counted off, we both walked in unison, and I told him when he got to the steps. He found his footing, and we got the first mattress up and inside. He slid it along the wall to where the spare room was.
We did this again with the other mattress, then he pulled a hand truck from the garage next to the house. “I’m gonna rollthis fu–thing over to the steps. Maybe you can help lift the bottom on the steps then I can get it the rest of the way.”
“You can say fuck,” I reminded him.
He climbed up and lowered the huge box onto the hand truck, then pushed several pillows down the truck bed. “Hopefully these are decent.”
“I’ll grab those once you get this inside.” I followed him to the steps, then helped him get the bottom over each step. Once he was on the porch, I went to grab the pillows.
Standing in the doorway until he came back, I asked, “Where should I put these?”
“Wherever is fine. I gotta go grab my tools.”
I was still standing there dumbfounded, clutching the pillows when he came back in. He grinned and put his tool bag down and grabbed the pillows, his hands once again brushing my arms and sending tiny electric pulses to places that had been dormant for a while.
“I know it’s gonna be hard, but just relax.”
“Can I at least help you?”
