Page 122 of Flaunt
Sabrina clenches her fists at her sides, and she walks backward down the sidewalk. “Your shit will be at the end of my driveway. Get it before morning or it’s going in the garbage.”
He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. I wave at Bethany, hiccupping back a sob, as they speed off.
My emotions are all over the place, and I don’t know where to start to pick them apart. All I know is that they’re the tangled, messy web that I work really hard to avoid.
I’ve been sliced wide open, the ugliness inside me spilling out for everyone to see … and every Carmichael on this street has watched my mortification. Not sure how things could get worse.
“Doesn’t this embarrass you? Do you have any sense of humility at all? Do these poor people understand who they’re dealing with here?”
“Let’s go,” Banks says, kissing me again.
“Where?”
“I’ll put a pizza in the oven while you get a bath.”
I look up at him and take him in. Handsome face. Kind eyes. Genuine empathy.
He nudges me toward the door. “It’s so much easier not having to walk across the street to get a frozen pizza. Who knew?”
Even though I don’t feel like smiling, I can’t help it. Because it’s Banks—the man who not only stood up for me but stood by me. The man who was kind to a little girl he doesn’t know, and firm to a woman he’d naturally despise. And he did it all with grace and class.
"Sara can take care of herself. I’m pretty sure you taught her the necessity for that … I know that you aren’t going to roll up to my house and disrespect her.”
The man who is fierce yet gentle, strong yet kind.
The man who I think I’ve fallen in love with.
25
Banks
“Open up.”I smirk, dangling a piece of pizza over the bathtub. “I’m not usually talking about pizza when I say that.”
Sara gives me a small smile. I’ll take it.
She’s been quiet since the whole Sabrina bullshit went down an hour ago. I don’t blame her at all. I have no idea what it would be like to have someone talk so much shit to you—intentionally tear you down and hitting you where they know your wounds lie—and then have to pick up the pieces and go on.
I’d probably knock them out. Not that it would help because, if it would, I would’ve grabbed the guy accompanying Sabrina and put him to sleep.
That’s the thing—I don’t know how to make this better. I don’t know how to fix it. That makes me feel like a failure.
Sara leans up and bites the tiniest end of the pizza.
“How are you doing?” I ask her, putting the pizza back on the plate.
I stretch my legs, still clad in my dirty work jeans, and wish I was in the bath letting it soak my sore muscles. Wishing I was holding Sara. But there’s a look in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t need that right now and, right now, it’s not about me.
Who even am I? It’s always about me.
“I’m okay.” She pokes a toe out of the bubbles. “I’m worried about Bethany, but I don’t know what I can do.”
I feel ya on that.
“Maybe Sabrina will be more calm when we get your stuff, and we can at least see Bethany,” I offer.
She frowns. “I hope so.”
I give her another bite. It’s slightly bigger than the last.
