Page 18 of Loaded Laces

West gave us—me—that.

And now he’s also bringing in my groceries.

Groceries I can afford because he refuses to accept money for rent, money for utilities, money for anything.

Because…we’rewatchinghis house.

Yeah, I’m thinking that with air quotes.

Because he has a cleaner who comes in weekly, a gardener who does the same, a chef who stocks the fridge for his meal plan meals twice a month.

“I told you,” West says quietly as Quinn carries the bag into the house, “that I would go to the store tomorrow.”

“You got home at four in the morning,” I say, slamming the trunk and hitching my purse higher on my shoulder. “You need food and rest. Plus,” I add quietly, “it’s the least I can do.”

He stops beside me, eyes coming to mine. “Belle,” he murmurs.

I shake my head, start walking up the drive. “It’s nothing,” I begin.

“You’re supposed to be getting ahead,” he grumbles. “Not feeding me.”

I touch his arm. “I’m fine.”

“Belle—”

“I’m—we’re—fine,” I snap.

One second, I’m walking through the garage.

The next, the bags of groceries are on the floor and my back is against the wall.

“I—”

His head drops, bringing our mouths so close I can feel his words on my lips. “You don’t need to pay me back, baby.” His eyes flare with frustration. His body is mere inches away.

And that feels so good that I forget to guard myself.

And the words…they slip free. “You don’t understand.”

He doesn’t move, but his voice is gentle. “What don’t I understand?”

“That I have to doanythingI can to pay you back?—”

Another flash of frustration through his eyes. “Belle?—”

I press a finger to his lips. “You saved us, saved me. You didn’t have to, and you haven’t asked anything of me and?—”

“You’re taking care of my?—”

“No, honey,” I whisper over the slightly muffled statement. “Don’t even try it. I appreciate that you gave me an excuse, saved face with my kid, but let’s not look at this as anything else aside from what it is—charity.”

He inhales sharply.

“Charity you were not obligated to give me, considering how I came back into your life and how I left it?—”

Now it’s his turn to press a finger to my lips.

“Bella bee,” he murmurs and my heart pulses at the nickname. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it. “You think for a moment I got a second chance at getting to know you, got a glimpse of the woman you are today, the goodness that’s the kid you made in there”—he jerks his head to the house—“and think it’scharity?” A sharp shake of his head. “You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

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