Page 67 of Loved By The Bad Boy

“Yeah, stepsister. Where was she?”

Something tells me a wrong answer will put Mom in trouble, maybe not with me but with Asher. I shrug. He can’t hold me accountable if I say nothing. My countenance must have made him realize he won’t be getting any more answers from me, and his head lowers in a mocking bow.

“I guess we are done here, Mister Carter.”

“I guess so.”

“You might be called in anytime for some questioning. I hope you’re okay with that?”

No. “Sure.”

The screech of his chair as he rises to his feet irks the shit out of me. He tucks his pen into his breast pocket, takes one step toward the door, and turns around to face me. I don’t like this man.

“One more thing,” he says in a tone that promises doom. “Do you want to press charges against her?”

Twenty-Eight

I think Ben is depressed.He doesn’t say it, but he acts it. This case has taken a toll on him. We have three more days before Sunday, but there has been only a little progress. An arrest with an option of bail. No one knows if they granted her bail, but I think so. Maddie has been moody.

The phone call about an arraignment hasn’t come yet. I don’t want to agree with Ben that this was a bad idea, but seeing him retreat into a shell I never knew existed makes me question many things. What if I was wrong to encourage him to press charges? Now, look at my baby.

We are camped in his room, and he’s staring at the ceiling. I poke him, and he looks up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ben replies. The tension in the house is still unbearable. My hand slips into his briefs to cup his balls. We have only had sex once since we arrived here. Ben doesn’t react to my touch. His penis remains asleep. Pulling out my hand, he tries to smile. “What are you doing, babe?”

“I’m trying to turn you on,” I whisper.

In plainer words, I want to get him in the mood so we can have sex and forget about everything, if only for a minute. Ben doesn’t smile at my half-joke, making me feel stupid for voicing it out.

My elbow digs into the pillow, and I throw a leg over his waist. His dull eyes bore into mine like he knows my intention. I try woefully to smile. There is no spark in my boyfriend’s eyes. He nudges my leg off him and rolls away to create an inch of space between us. He’s close yet so far.

Turning his back to me, he whispers, “I’m tired.”

Tired of what? He hasn’t stepped out of the room. Maddie brings our dishes upstairs, and I take them down. I hate his mood. I hug him from behind. He doesn’t fully relax but grows less rigid. My lips meet the back of his neck. I slide my arm around his waist, and his palm settles over mine.

He needs me.

“I think I’m tired too,” I say.

Not the entire truth. I need to get out of here, take a walk or something. A squeeze of my hand is the only reply I get. Minutes later, his breathing evens out. I stay there as long as I can until my arms groan in complaint. Retracting them, I clasp them behind my head and stare at the ceiling.

How do you make your boyfriend less moody?

On tiptoes, I exit Ben’s room. Asher is in school, so I can’t bother him. I stop at the foot of the stairs a little too late. Josef raises his head, and our eyes meet. He’s seated on the single couch with the TV playing on mute. I doubt he knew about the muted TV because he was distracted.

We stare at each other for a long awkward minute. Josef’s mouth opens, and I dash to the kitchen before he says anything to change my mind. Josef is partly to blame for what’s happening. If he were more supportive, Benny wouldn’t be so sad. Ben’s mom is in the kitchen cutting carrots.

She offers me a kind smile, and I hug her from the side. “How’s my baby doing?”

“Fine,” I lie. Maddie sees through the lie but doesn’t say anything. “What are you cooking?”

“Rice with some vegetables in them.” Maddie stops chopping to show me the green peas and peppers by the side. I try to pick up a knife, but she shakes her head. “It’s Benny’s favorite.”

The smile that follows her words is too sad. It makes me wonder how she feels about the whole thing. So far, she has carried herself with dignity, and Ben has not spoken a bad word against her.

Opening the pot of boiling water, she empties a bowl of rice into it and resumes cutting. “I think you should leave the house for a bit,” she says. I agree. It will be good for Ben. We could take a trip to SAS and look around. “Take a walk, get a breather. You’ve both been indoors too long.”

“Benny is asleep.” I turn on the tap and rinse the peppers so she can chop them. She adds more water to the rice, stirs for a bit, and begins cutting the peppers. “I can’t leave him all by himself.”

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