Caim, noun
Sanctuary.
Lying in bed together felt like the most natural thing in the world. The shape of Bebe’s body against mine felt familiar yet strange, and I loved the way her tight, supple skin felt against my own. It was a revelation, one I’d spent years upon years walking away from, but now I couldn’t get enough.
I wanted to inhale her scent like a drug. Fill my nostrils with the sweetness of my girl. Fill my mouth with her syrupy taste and taste the sweetness of her full, pouty lips until I was punch-drunk on them.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered to me, settling into my embrace. “Please, I… I know you have to go, but try and stay with me, please.”
“I’m not leaving,” I promised. “Not a chance in fucking hell, sugar. I’m going to sleep with you tonight.”
Somehow, I even believed myself, knowing that I was telling her the truth. I pulled her in closer and she arched her back, her ass against my crotch making me hard as a rock like so many times before. She giggled when she felt it, wiggling her ass all over my lap while I groaned and pulled her even closer.
“Bebe,” I said softly. “I want to know more.”
“What do you want to know?”
“You…” I sighed. “I just want to know so much more about you.”
“You think I’ve been hiding things?” Her breath was soft, sweet against my fingers.
I turned her around, so she was facing me, her naked body molding mine as perfectly as a piece of the same puzzle. She held onto me, and I let my shaky fingers loose in her hair, tangling in the strands and tugging gently on her beautiful locks. I never wanted to leave. Didn’t even give a shit about all the usual stuff that should’ve been worrying me at that point. All that mattered was Bebe, and this moment, and as many more stolen ones as I could fit into my day—and night. I’d stay awake if it meant watching her, being near her.
“No,” I exhaled.
“You’re lying,” she accused, trying to pull away.
My brow furrowed, and I didn’t let go as I leaned closer, whispering in her ear, “Haven’t you been hiding things, sugar? All those things you thought were too much for me?”
“I guess,” she whispered.
“So, tell me. Tell me everything.”
“I don’t know where to start,” she said weakly.
“Start at the beginning,” I said. “Tell me about your childhood.”
She smiled shyly at me, but it took her several moments before she could go on. Her eyes were red-rimmed before she even started speaking.
“I was happy,” she confessed. “Really, really happy. I had an amazing childhood. I was such a happy little girl.”
“Your parents, were they together?” I asked her.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “They’ve been together for over twenty-five years now. My mom had me quite young, but her family didn’t really agree. My mom’s Tricia Wellstone.”
I gave her a blank stare and she got up on her elbows and laughed incredulously.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know her?” she asked, and I shrugged apologetically.
“I’m sorry if I should, I guess I prefer to keep myself out of the public eye,” I admitted. “And I’m not really the type to read tabloids, either.”
“So, you’re just assuming she’s some kind of rich socialite?” Bebe asked, her eyes sparkling.
I fiddled with the duvet uncomfortably when she giggled and fell back into my arms, playfully pulling me down and kissing me deeply. I got lost in her sweetness once again, letting myself fall for everything she stood for, so very uniquely Bebe. I couldn’t get enough of her, but she wouldn’t let me hold her back after we’d kissed.
“Am I wrong?” I asked her cheekily, and she stuck her tongue out at me.
“No,” she admitted. “She was a socialite. She was an it girl in the eighties, and she’d be more than proud to tell you that as well. Her family is super, super wealthy… it’s old money. The Wellstone family are one of the founders of their city. Our lineage goes way back.”
“Impressive,” I told her. “But I get the feeling you’re not really in touch with them?”
“No,” she winced, a barely visible sign of uncomfortableness that I almost missed in the dimly lit room.
It was now fully dark outside. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent the night in someone else’s room, slept over in an apartment other than mine. It seemed almost incomprehensible that I was really doing it, being here in Bebe’s bed and not giving it a second thought. There was nowhere I would’ve rather been.
“What about your dad?” I asked, and she gave me a bright smile.
“Dad is a lot like me,” she told me, a hint of love in her voice. She was obviously a daddy’s girl, and it brought a smile to my lips when I thought of her as a young girl with her father. I wondered whether I’d ever get to meet him.
“He started his company from nothing,” she went on. “He used some of Mom’s savings… She invested in him, like she always says, but her family never forgave her for using her trust fund, not even though Dad’s company turns over seventeen million yearly.”
My eyes widened at the size of the huge sum, but I didn’t comment on it. Of course, I should have known Bebe was well off. She didn’t just get an apartment like this from nothing, and she was always wearing expensive clothes—and lingerie. The money had to be coming from somewhere, though I didn’t want to be rude and assume.
“Dad’s family was really small.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “My last grandma died a few years ago, but we were never really close. So it was mostly just my parents and me.”
I was itching to ask about them, but I made myself change the subject. I wondered if I’d ever get to meet the people who had Bebe, who made her into the amazing girl she was now.
“What happened later? When you were older?”
“I got bullied,” she shrugged. “Like, a lot. Throughout primary school and high school.”
“What?” I was genuinely surprised. “How could anyone bully you?”
I let out a small chuckle, but she glared at me and the laughter caught in my throat.
“I… I wasn’t always like this,” she admitted in a shaky voice. “I was a different girl back then. Vulnerable. I had braces, ratty hair, acne… No friends. Absolutely no one but my parents.”
“And then?” I asked.
“And then they came along,” she winced at the next part of her story. “Arden and Posy.”
My heart pounded at the mention of those names. One of the girls, I already knew—the other remained a mystery.
“They were totally different, but from wealthy families just like me,” she explained. “I’d gotten rid of my braces and breakouts, gotten a bit of a makeover thanks to Dad’s publicist. I still don’t know whether it was the worst or the best thing to happen to me. But it was enough for them to notice me at the university.”
“What did you study?” I asked. I had Art History in mind for her, or maybe English Literature.
“Undeclared,” she shrugged, giving me a shy smile. “I didn’t really finish. I went for three years but barely passed a few exams. All I did was go out with the girls… It was all that mattered. Being someone, you know? Feeling like I belonged.”
“With Arden and… Posy?” I asked, and she nodded.
“They were so glamorous. A year older, living off their trust funds, so I took advantage of my own too. My parents trusted me, there was no reason for them not to, so I just…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I just got this apartment and moved in. Posy died three months afterward.”
I stared at her, my fingers gently caressing her cheek. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t deal with my own pain, let alone someone else’s. But still, I hoped my gentle touch was enough to show Bebe that I felt for her, cared for her, maybe even…
“I loved her,” she admitted, her eyes misty as she looked away from me. “I really did, she was such a special girl.”
“I’m sorry, sugar,” I whispered, leaving a fleeting kiss against her lips. “Did she…”
“She overdosed,” Bebe choked out. “It was too much for her body, the pill she took.”
All of it made sense then. Bebe’s need to drink, to take stuff to drown her sorrows. I got it now, got the self-punishment and the hatred she felt for herself. She was punishing herself for what had happened with her best friend. But she would never replace Posy. She had earned her wings, and my girl was here to stay. The decision had been made without her help.
“Bebe,” I said gently. “Please… What about your parents? Do they know?”
She shut her eyes tightly as a tear made its way down her cheek. I smoothed it away with my thumb, trailing it over her lips. She licked at it, tasting the saltiness of her own tears.
“They know,” she said. “They called me when it happened, tried to come here, they were so sad. They loved Posy… they love Arden too. I wouldn’t let them come.”
“Have you…” I tried to make my words gentle, careful. “Have you seen them since it happened?”
“No,” she shook her head weakly. “I think they’ve stopped trying, but the money is still coming… They must want to get rid of me so badly.”
“No,” I growled. “No, Bebe, you have it all wrong.”
The shrill melody of a ringing phone interrupted us, and she sniffled before jumping out of bed like a flash and walking over to the coffee table. Her phone was flashing, and her brow furrowed as she picked it up and pressed it to her ear.
“What?” she asked stiffly. “I don’t understand. I am listed? No one else?”
A long pause followed, but I was already out of bed and pulling my jeans on. I felt an emergency brewing, and I knew I’d want to help her.
“I’ll be there,” she muttered softly, cutting the call.
“What is it?” I asked, stepping closer to her.
She was shaking, her whole body trembling as I pulled her into my arms. I held her close, her sweet, tender body so fragile against mine it felt like a gust of wind would blow her over. I felt so fucking responsible in that moment, and my entire life, I’d been running from exactly that feeling—being responsible for someone other than myself.
But not with Bebe. I didn’t feel the dread, the fear this time around. I just felt this overwhelming, crazy need to protect her. To make sure she was always okay and taken care of. There was nothing else I wanted anymore. Nothing in the world.
“Arden,” she whispered.
“What?” I asked roughly, looking down into her scared eyes that looked like pools of darkness in the night. “Is she alright?”
Bebe shook her head, her bottom lip trembling.
“She’s in the hospital,” she choked out, and I held her closer, trying to hold in her sobs.
“We need to go,” I told her roughly. “Do you know where?”
“St Paul’s Memorial,” she said, but pulled on my arm when I started walking. “But, Miles… You can’t just leave. Right?”
I stepped closer to her. In her eyes, I recognized a person who had connected with me on the same level I’d connected with her. She’d been the one telling me her story, but through my actions that night, I had already revealed mine.
“I will go any-fucking-where for you,” I told her roughly. “And no one in the fucking world will stop me.”