Day and Night Ch. 04

Who the fuck am I kidding?

"I know I'm not supposed to be here. With you and Brian and everything, but I don't have any friends I can trust. They're all Jason's friends, and I've maxed out my credit card staying at that hotel. And I've got like two hundred bucks to get me to pay day. No way I can go back home with my job on the line—one Jason's family helped me get. It's just... it's all coming down and I didn't realize I was living in a sandcastle. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He expected tears like the first night, soaking into his shirt and sobs wracking her frame. But she didn't do that. Small arms slid around him, pulling him close as she buried her face in his shirt and breathed deeply, collected herself. Whatever had happened five days ago had been a fluke. Beth wasn't the type of person to wallow, even then—catching her fiancée with another woman she hadn't thrown herself on a couch and indulged in a gallon of ice cream. She'd left, gone out to have a few drinks and collect herself. That was what she'd done then, at the hotel, and what she was doing now.

In another minute her hands slid away and she pulled back. A frown tugged at his face, making it harsher than he wanted, but Day didn't like the distance she threw up. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry to put this all on you. That's not fair."

"So what?" he bit out.

Her eyes were hollow, face wane as she looked up at him. But even with all the stress, all the bullshit ripping at her life, she smiled. Small. Just the sun breaking across the horizon, but it was enough. More than she needed to give. "I'm gonna go."

She was right. It made the most sense. Almost a week later and Day still didn't know this woman, didn't know this situation. If he let her in, the drama could cost him. Already he'd thought she brought the cops to arrest him.

She came to you because you're safe, Shontell sighed in that 'it's right in front of your face' tone he hated.

Fucking ghosts in his head. He'd knocked that off shortly after his wife died. Thrown himself into building the business, raising Brian, and keeping his shit firmly together. But here she was, phycologist extrodiate, ghost in his damn head.

"You got nowhere to go." It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it the second it left his mouth.

"I'll figure it out."

Laptop bag hoisted on her shoulder, she turned to go and he reached out on instinct. "Stay."

"I really can't."

"I'm not asking."

"High-handedness isn't a cute look, Day."

There she is. A smile cracked his face. "I'd like you to stay."

"Why?"

"Brian likes you here." I want you here.

She paused, worrying her lip between her teeth. "My ex. He's powerful. Old money, lots of influence. I don't want to bring trouble."

"It follows you, Sunshine," Day said quietly. "But I can handle it."

"Brian—"

"Come inside, Beth. We're safe."

Her expression said they weren't. Said what he was doing would bite him squarely on the ass, rip a chunk out, and then shit it into his mouth. But he couldn't let it go. She was goodness, and he needed goodness.

Grabbing her bags and taking them from her, Day opened the door to his house and waited until she stepped through. "Brain. Come out. It's okay."

"Okay?" Beth asked, brows furrowing.

Setting her bags near the door and re-locking it, he turned and shook his head. "If you're going to be staying with Black men, a word of advise: don't bring cops. We tend not to get along."

Shock stamped across her face and she took a step toward him, reaching up to touch his skin. It was like she was just now realising what it meant to have a darker complexion and to be with someone who had it. "I—I didn't think."

"You weren't conditioned to," Day said softly, pulling her hand away as Brain skidded into the room.

She turned and looked at his son, really saw him for more than a child. "Hey, Honey," she cooed softly, kneeling and opening her arms. Brian was there in a second, arms nearly choking her, face buried in the hollow of her neck. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He nodded against her but didn't raise his head.

This was reality: scary and unfair, but their reality nonetheless.

"How about we watch a movie?" Day interrupted, trying to remove the fear and anxiety permeating through the apartment.

"Transformers," Brian piped up, lifting his head to look at his father over Beth's shoulder.

"Let's see what's on and find something we all like."

A few minutes later, Brian and Beth were curled up under a blanket on the couch. Day'd purposely set himself on the chair, because even if Beth was goodness he wanted to drown himself in, he still didn't want his son to see that and get the wrong idea. It was bad enough he'd become as attached as he had. But there was always the 'she's a friend' ruse to fall back on if things went to shit.

She looked good there though. On his couch, in his home. Red painted toes peeking out from the blanket, hand stroking down Brian's hair. Natural.

The microwave beeped and Brian bounced up. "Popcorn!"

"Be careful. It's hot," Day cautioned as his son ran to the kitchen. Maybe I should—

Beth was up in the next second, laying a hand on his shoulder as she passed him on her way to the kitchen. "How about you get a bowl, Honey, and I'll grab the popcorn."

A fucking hard-on. One look, one innocent little touch, and his dick was trying to punch through his sweatpants. Day groaned and covered his face. Trying not to think about if his dick would find a home inside Beth's tight little body again or if she'd stay in the guestroom, bundled up without him in that bed.

Fuck that.

He didn't take her in to fuck her, but that didn't mean it wasn't on his mind. Didn't mean he wasn't thinking about it as he watched three bears go about daily activity in a cute kid's cartoon.

"Here," Beth said, thrusting a small bowl of buttery popcorn at him. "Thought it'd be easier than passing around a bowl."

"Thanks."

She smiled as she sat on the couch and then drew Brian close to settle him next to her. Three episodes in and the kid fell asleep on her lap.

Day glanced to the kitchen and the clock on the stove: 7:49PM.

"I'll get him to bed," he muttered, pushing up from the chair and scooping up his son.

"Sure. I need to check my phone anyway."

He paused. "Sure that's a good idea?"

"No, but now or later it's going to be the same outcome."

"Want me to stay?"

She shook her head. "This isn't your problem."

The fuck it isn't. The thought came unbidden with a violent bite. Day blinked back at his mental ferocity, but when it came to Beth everything clawed at him to protect her. Not that she needed it, not that he had any right to. The woman had survived well into her twenties without him, lead a whole life.

Even with those facts, he didn't try to tamp down the need to protect her, wrap her up and never let her go. It'd been a while since he felt this way, and even if it would only last a second, even if she left, Day was going to remember what it felt like to care for someone, what it felt like to give a fuck about more than his kid and his business.

Gently carrying Brian across the apartment to his room, Day tried not to think of the upcoming sleeping arrangements. Sure his dick was happy with Beth between their sheets, preferably naked and sucking his dick, but his mind balked at that idea. What if Brian woke up in the middle of the night and came to his room? Or a repeat of the last morning she'd been in his apartment happened? Brian was already attached, it wouldn't take more than another nudge for Beth to be firmly situated in the 'mommy' column for him and Day couldn't have that.

"Sleep tight," Day whispered into Brian's hair, brushing back the strands and planting a kiss on his forehead.

He left the door cracked and made his way back to the living room. Beth was scrolling through her phone, but looked up as he planted himself on the couch instead of his chair. "Any news?"

"Oh, tons," she laughed without an ounce of humor. "But on the plus side, no notice from my boss firing me. I have received lovely texts and voice messages from several unknown numbers, Jason's friends, his parents, and the asshole himself."

"What?" He fucking called her?

She nodded, voice holding false cheer and she rattled off the details, "Seems he got out on bail. Said it was the alcohol. That he just got trashed last night, you know, things got out of hand. He'd never hit me. No, just lunge across furniture. But not actually brutalize me the way he did Simone. Because he loves me. Loves! And he wants to get away. Cancun. To reconnect, because it was the alcohol, not him. And we're so good together. We can make it work. I can forgive him. Because think of everything I'd be giving up! Think of the life I'd have without—"

"Beth," Day interrupted with a hand on her knee. "Brian's asleep."

Vibrations shook her entire form and her red hair looked like dancing fire on her head. "Oh. Shit. Sorry. It's just..."

"Unbelievable?"

"You didn't see the look in his eyes, Day," she whispered, eyes trained on the black screen of her phone as the angry vibrations shifted to a scared tremor. "He would have hurt me. Could have killed me. Simone looked dead. Bleeding everywhere. That could have been me."

"Yeah, it—"

A loud banging on the door surprised them both. "Yo, Day. It's Friday. You down or what?"

"Shit. I forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"My friends," he started, getting to his feet and making his way to the door. "We have a bi-weekly poker tradition."

"You home, man, or—"

Yanking the door open, Day glared at Ricky who had the good sense to step back and put his hands up. "You said you were down. And honestly, I'm counting on this game for grocery money this week."

"Fuck off."

"Don't get upset 'cause you suck, Day," Ricky said roundly, a shit eating grin on his face. "'Ain't nobody gonna cry you a river over losing a few hundred. Fuck, you could spare it."

Shaking his head, Day leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. "Can't tonight. Got company."

"Company? You?" Ricky laughed and shoved him hard, trying to peer into the apartment. "Yeah, and I'm gonna be balls deep in Moriah Mills tonight."

"Who?"

Ricky again tried to peer over his shoulder. "Moriah Mills. Ebony queen. Tits and ass for days. Porn—"

"Shut up, Ricky," Day interrupted, lightly punching his friend on the shoulder.

"Um," Beth's soft voice washed over them, a hint of laughter in the sound. "Sorry to interrupt, but you're being a bit loud and I doubt Brian needs to add tits, ass, and porn to his vocabulary."

Ricky blinked in surprise as Day moved and allowed his friend to see his company. Almost immediately Ricky's eyes dropped to Beth's chest. Oh hell no. "Ricky," Day growled, grabbing his friend's attention even as he set a hand on Beth's waist and dragged her to his side. "Don't be a creep."

"Uh-huh," Ricky said slowly, eyeing Beth less like tits and ass he'd want to fuck and more like an alien from outer space. "Sorry about that. I'm Ricky, and you are...?"

"Beth Mc.Nair," she supplied, shaking the hand that Ricky held out. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ricky smiled, a bit of the devil in the look. "Pleasure being the key word."

"Ricky." A warning; one his friend had no problem ignoring. "So what's a pretty lady like you doing with a bum like him?"

Beth laughed, the tinkling sounding at once practiced and genuine. Her hand landed on his chest, a possession he didn't rebuke as she leaned toward Ricky. "Enjoying myself. Now, I think I heard someone saying something about poker."

"You play?"

"I can hold my own."

His eyebrows raised. "Oh, now this I have to see."

Day smirked before stepping back. "Let me set up the monitor on Brian's room and we'll come up."

"I can take Beth up," Ricky offered, and Day was pretty sure it was just to needle him.

"I'll do it."

"No need to fight over me boys," Beth interjected easily, "I have two feet and can get myself anywhere with directions. So thank you, but I'll take myself up."

"Feisty," Ricky laughed, "I like it."

Yeah. Me too.

***

"That was fun," Beth said, slipping back into Day's apartment and feeling the buzz of beer. It wasn't heavy and would probably dissipate with a glass of water, but after the day she'd had it was exactly the thing she needed.

Flopping back on the couch, she turned and glanced at Day as he locked the door and made his way to the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"I could go for a snack." Strange since Beth didn't snack anymore. Or eat carbs, sugar, red meat—the list went on. Growing up on a farm, she hadn't been as strict with her diet because hard work burned off any calories she ate. Even moving to New York, she'd joined a gym out of sheer boredom and worked herself to satisfying soreness. Food had never been an issue.

But it was with Jason.

The man hadn't been used to seeing women actually eat. When Beth had chowed down on a hot dog slathered in mustard, ketchup, and macaroni and cheese he'd looked at her like an alien. Little snipes and comments made her adjust what she ate, and before she knew it, she was at home for Christmas refusing apple pie, mashed potatoes, turkey, and subsiding on steamed broccoli.

It hadn't seemed crazy at the time, but looking back without the tinted Jason-glasses that fogged up her common sense, there were so many warning signs. Not about him being physically abusive, but about his controlling ways. Usually Beth had let him control little things because it was just easier; she could lie to herself and say it didn't really matter. Vegetables were good for you. Jeans were way too heavy. Everyone spent hours on their makeup.

So deep in denial.

"What're you in the mood for? Cookies? Ice cream? Chips?"

"Yes."

He laughed, and a few moments later he had two family-sized bags of chips, a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and insanely soft white chocolate macadamia nut cookies spread across the table. "You're a god, " Beth gushed, grabbing a spoon and digging into the ice cream. "A literal god!"

His laugh was deep and made every female bone part inside her shiver. But then the cream, sugar, and fat hit her tongue. Ice cream had been at the top of her 'don't eat' list, right next to that hot dogs. It's been over a year and mint chocolate chip had never tasted better.

"You gotta stop doing that," Day grunted, picking up a spoon and digging in.

"Hm? Doing what?" She glanced at him and immediately understood.

Hard. The man was tenting his jeans and Beth was pretty sure his dick might actually have the ability to rip through them. As if that wasn't bad enough his face—all hard angles and taunt lines, scowling at her enjoyment of the ice cream like it was an offense to every manly part of him that she made the face outside of his bed.

Slowly, deliberately, she tongued the ice cream off the spoon. His responding groan made her clit throb. "Now, you're just teasing."

"Not teasing."

He sighed and reached into the bag of chips, thoughtfully munching on a handful before replying, "This is a bad idea."

"Yup."

"We shouldn't do it."

"Yup."

"You had a tough day—just experienced the worst of men. Hell, you don't even know me."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're not in the right headspace and neither am I. My wife died a little over a year ago. I have a kid. This won't work."

"You see," Beth started in, spooning another scoop of ice cream. "That's where I think you're wrong. I'm not saying it'll be rainbows and butterflies, but this could work."

"Beth," Day grunted, turning to face her, giving the conversation his full attention. "You didn't even understand what bringing the cops here meant. You don't see me."

Setting her spoon down, she mirrored his body but stayed silent for a long minute. "You're right. I didn't see you. I grew up in Indiana on a farm. There weren't a lot of people of color. But I live in New York. I work for a Black woman who kicks ass and she has no problem talking to me about the realities of her situation as a woman of color.

"I admit that I can't understand where you're coming from right now, but that doesn't mean you can't show me."

"It's not just about showing you," Day argued, trying to get her to understand his race wasn't the only thing working against them, but she already knew that. "It's about how you navigate the world with me and my son."

"Because I put you both in danger."

"Yes, and you could do it again. Inadvertently." He sighed and ran a hand over his head. "Do you know what I first thought when I heard your voice and knew you were with cops?"

She shook her head.

"That they were coming to arrest me because you said I raped you."

Beth tried to not take it personally, to understand where Day was coming from, but it was hard. She knew it wasn't really about her—that the conversation was more about everyone else and their feelings and biases toward men of color.

Just like everyone's feelings toward women.

The night they met came back with a harsh reality she hadn't wanted to face. Those boys might have assaulted her. Raped her. And it hadn't mattered that they were Black at the time, what mattered the most was that they were men. She'd felt the same fear in college at the few frat parties she'd gone to. Drunk boys, high boys, all of them feeling entitled and driven by group mentality to prove themselves by treating her as a conquest: a disposable thing for their egos.

Beth's reality was walking through life hoping that day wouldn't be the one were she got assaulted. Day's reality was walking through life hoping he didn't lose his life, job, or anything else because of his color.

"Have you ever read Margaret Atwood?"

Day blinked in surprise. It was obvious he was trying to track how they'd gone from his worry about a rape accusation to some woman.

"She wrote The Handmaid's Tale," Beth supplied before continuing. "Well, she has this famous quote, 'Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.'" She paused, letting him soak that in before continuing, "I don't know what your experience is as a Black man, but as a minority? Yeah, I can empathize. I know what it's like to walk through the world worried that today'll be the day. To walk into a room and have to change yourself to make everyone else feel comfortable. I'm not saying that I'll always get your experiences; what I am saying is that I'll try my best to learn and understand."

Day was quiet and Beth let him sit with it. Besides, the ice cream was melting.

She was three bites in, when his hands landed on her waist and he lifted her onto his lap. Spoon still jammed in her mouth, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him. "You're amazing. You know what?"

Licking off the ice cream and swallowing, she smiled and said, "Nah. I just listen to a lot of podcasts."

His laughter was infectious as were his hands on her body. Beth didn't think twice about settling her weight across him, spreading her thighs wide, digging her knees into the couch, and twining her arms around his neck. "It's gonna be messy."

"Yeah."

"And difficult something."

"Yeah."

"And I have no clue how it will end, but I want to try. Everything in my life has been beyond crazy—even before I got here. Probably right after my brother died. You're the only thing that I haven't second guessed or tried to convince myself of. I'm not worried about myself with you."