TEN
Zeus
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I scrub a hand over my face as Belle heads down the hall to her room. John isn’t home yet—thank God. Shit. When did my hands start to shake?
What the fuck were you thinking, idiot? Telling a teenage girl that yeah, she wasn’t wrong, lines got muddied back there? So much for being the adult, you dropkick.
Her door closes hard as she barricades herself in her safe haven. Do I go say something? Would that be even weirder? Deny, deny, deny. I need to act normal, as though I didn’t just look at my best friend’s eighteen-year-old daughter and wonder why she thinks of me as more than a family friend.
Because fuck—turns out I think of her as more than a kid.
A kid. I need to remember that. Yes.
Light spills from the fridge as I search for something to dull this ache in my brain. The whole night turned out fucked. I was supposed to kick back, relax, celebrate the fact I still have a job come Monday, and forget that my soon-to-be ex-wife is out fucking the guy who made our relationship that way. But then John got kept late at work, and I thought nothing of agreeing to get Belle.
How hard could it have been, right?
I’m sick. Isn’t that what they call men my age who find teenagers attractive? She’s legal age. Still… God, I’m so fucking confused.
Foam spills from the can of beer after I crack the tab, the bitter taste welcome on my tongue as I suck the aluminium rim clean. I tip my head back and shotgun the whole fucking thing, retrieving another before I toss the first empty in the bin and head toward the living room.
My heart seizes at the sound of Belle’s door opening, her soft footsteps padding in the opposite direction before the bathroom door shuts. My thumb tracks a slow path around the rim of the can as I wait with bated breath to see if she’ll return to her room when she’s done, or come talk it out some more. Although I’m not really expecting her to do anything but hide away like any normal teenager would, avoiding conversation and even eye contact for the next week or however long it takes her to get over it.
Only I don’t really want her to get over it. I want to understand what was going through her head when she looked at me like that. What exactly was she thinking?
Come on, Belle. Come talk to me.
I down half the second can before the bathroom door opens and her footsteps track in my direction. She pauses at what I assume to be her bedroom door, and I hold my breath while I wait for the click of her latch.
Yet it doesn’t come.
Eyes closed and my hand firm on the can to ground myself, I lean back in the armchair and wait.
“Zeus?” Her voice is barely a whisper, soft and comforting in the darkness.
“Yeah, Belle?”
“Can I ask you something?”
I open my eyes, thankful, so fucking thankful that she chose to thrash it out, talk through whatever the fuck that was, because sure as shit it wasn’t just an ice cream. “Fire away.”
“Do you still think of me as a child?”
Fuck. Maybe talking with her wasn’t such a great idea? “Why are you asking me this?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, eyes closed tight as I wait on her reply.
“Because who else do I ask when your answer is the only one that matters?” The soft scrape of fabric suggests she’s seated opposite me now. “I want to know if you still look at me like a kid, or if you see that I’m pretty much an adult now.”
I open my eyes to find her watching me with a worried frown, hands jammed between her legs. She’s changed, dressed now in her pyjamas: a pair of long black cotton pants and a pale blue tank top. Thank fuck she’s kept her bra on.
“You’re a young woman, Belle,” I say on a sigh. “You gave up being a kid when you learned how to take care of yourself.”
She huffs a bitter laugh. “Awesome job I do of that, huh?”
“You’ve done it just fine, for years. Since you were barely a teenager. You can cook, clean. Hell, you could even organise to get yourself to school when you wanted to go,” I tease. She smiles. “You can take care of yourself.”
“Unless I’m in situations like tonight.” Her lips fall to a flat line, her eyes distant.
My free hand fists on the arm of the chair as I down the last of my second beer. John mentioned something in passing about trouble he had with Belle while I was inside. Something to do with a bunch of kids at her school bullying her when they found out about why her mother left, spreading lies that—as they always do in school—became gospel.
“What exactly happened tonight, Belle?” I frown. “How did you even get in that situation?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She stares at the floor.
I point to the bruise on her neck—the hickey. “That tells me it does.”
She slaps a palm to the darkened flesh, her eyes wide. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. You know what your old man will say about that. So I’ll ask you again, Belle, what really happened?”
She pulls her legs up before her, tucking them inside her arms. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew he would be trouble. I know he doesn’t actually like me, but I let him convince me anyway.”
Breathe, Zeus. It’ll pass. I spread my hands over the arms of the chair, burying my fingertips into the fabric. “Did he…?”
“Rape me?” she asks, wide-eyed. “God, no.”
Thank fuck for that, because I was about ready to head back inside for the rest of my sentence. “It seemed as though you didn’t want it to happen, though.”
“I did.” She turns her head to the side and sighs. “Just for all the wrong reasons.” Her face twists in disgust. “Damn it. Why am I telling you all this?”
“Because you have to tell someone,” I say carefully.
“He knew I was drunk, and that’s what makes me so mad about it all. He should have known I’d feel differently sober.”
“Not as brave?”
“Not as rebellious,” she drones. “God. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.” I lean forward, drawing her attention back to me as I reach across the gap between us and prod her in the side of her stomach. “You just need to learn to listen to this. Always. Fuck what anyone tells you, fuck what you think other people reckon; your gut instinct always knows best.”
“Is that what you listened to when you beat the hell out of someone?”
Her question takes me by surprise. Not because she’s raised a fair point, but because the hurt in her eyes tells me she’s angry that I served my time inside. I never considered the fact she might feel betrayed, upset by it all. Never gave it a single thought in all the years I sat in my fucking cell wondering what everyone I knew was doing on the outside.
“You really are pissed about it.” I lean back, resuming my position in the chair with my arms on the sides.
“Dad never told me where you went, so I figured it must have been bad,” she states. “Who was the guy you assaulted?”
“We’re talking about you tonight, Belle.”
“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” she snaps.
I could kill that little fucker. “I do.”
“Don’t.” She shakes her head, dropping her legs so that they’re folded before her. “Not yet, anyway.”
The pain is too raw, I get that, but we haven’t reached the critical moment yet: when our relationship deviated from the familiar path back at that damn McDonald’s.
“Fine. Later,” I yield. “How about you tell me what made you ask if I see you as a kid, then?”
Say it. Say the words for me.
“I just wondered, is all. I’ve thought about it a bit lately, and what you said in the car sort of brought it back to the forefront of my mind. I mean, is that how everyone sees me? Especially Dad,” Belle admits, looking to the floor. “He wants to dictate everything I do, but I should be allowed to make more choices on my own, you know?”
“You still live under his roof.”
“I know.” Her gaze lifts, and fuck me if it isn’t the most maturity I’ve ever seen displayed in those eyes. “But for how much longer? I’ve finished school now. Shouldn’t I be learning how to be more independent?”
“I guess he’s not ready to give up protecting you, yet.” I know I’m not. The empty can creaks in my hand as I take the frustration coursing through me out on its weak structure. “You said my opinion was the only one that mattered, though. Why?”
“Work that out for yourself, Zeus.” She holds my gaze, strong and sure.
There’s nothing immature about her at all in that moment. Nothing.
“What are your plans now school is done?” I opt for a change of subject. I get the feeling she could dance around defining this relationship of ours all night.
She shrugs. “Honestly?”
“Isn’t that why you came to talk to me? For an honest conversation?”
She hums a funny little “hmph” before answering. “Yeah.”
“So, what is it you want to do?”
“Tattoo.”
Totally not thinking of her with those hands on my skin. Nope. Not at all. “I figured.”
“So why ask?”
She’s daring me to admit the truth now. Clever way to turn it around, Belle.
“I don’t know.” I rub my forefinger and thumb over closed eyes before rising from the chair to bin the can in my other hand. “Are we done here?”
I catch the slight cock of her head in my periphery. “I guess.”
Yeah, I’m an arsehole for cutting her off, but if she won’t discuss the real issues at hand—like the fact her baggy pyjamas haven’t stopped me from visualising how her naked body looks underneath—then she and I have no business hanging out. I’m no better than that jackass at the party who couldn’t keep his goddamn hands to himself.
I’m worse.
Belle rises from the sofa and walks toward her room, only to hesitate at the start of the hallway. “Thank you for tonight; for giving me that time to calm down.”
“I’m just glad it wasn’t your old man who found you.”
“Yeah.” She turns her head to match my gaze. “So was I.”
I should offer some words of wisdom… or she should walk away. One of us should do something to cut the cord, flick the switch off on whatever dim connection we have going here, yet neither of us do.
She swallows, her jaw lifting slightly as she does. I take a deep breath, mentally walking away to retrieve a bottle of water to take to bed with me, yet all I physically do is stay.
I can’t walk away—it doesn’t feel right, and I don’t know why.
It should feel nothing but natural, second nature to shut her off and wipe Belle from my thoughts. But I can’t look away from her, even as she drops her gaze and sucks in a deep breath herself, one hand on the other wrist as she slowly rubs it back and forth.
“What, Belle?” I ask quietly. “What else is on your mind?”
She chuckles, her lips tilting up on one side. “I… it’s nothing. I should just go to bed.”
“Yeah. Same.”
She takes a single step and then turns back to face me, her lips pressed in a thin line as though she’s resolved to say whatever comes next no matter the consequence. “You’re a great guy, Zeus. At first, I thought Jodie was stupid to let you go, but then I realised something.” Her chest heaves with her quick breath. “All she did was free you up for the person who appreciates you and loves you like you deserve. I guess she did you a favour.” Belle twitches a smile, her cheeks flushed rose pink as she turns away and heads for her room.
I stay rooted to the spot, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she pads barefoot down the hallway. She didn’t say it, didn’t voice it, but the panic in my chest confirms what was hidden between the lines of that last statement: she thinks she’s the one who can love and appreciate me.
Belle honestly believes that she could be what I deserve. And what’s even more twisted and fucked up is, I believe she could be right.