Page 11 of Defended by Bama (Royal Bastards MC: Mobile, Alabama #1)

Brooklyn

Three cups later, I was wired but feeling lighter. Bama didn’t talk much or ask a lot of questions. He just listened. I hadn’t had anyone to talk to in so long, the last few years of hell just poured out of me.

As I recounted all of it, I felt stupid. The writing was there on the wall.

“Everything screamed ‘bad decision’, but I kept thinking things would get better. And he always said when we got me settled into the house, he’d check out marriage stuff. And then it was when the baby came. Then it was when he got a promotion. When, when, when. And when never came.”

“What did your family think of him?”

Sighing, I said, “I don’t talk to my dad.

They divorced when I was young, and he started a new family and that was the last I heard.

Mom thought he was great. I tried talking to her and she basically told me to suck it up.

” I went to take a sip of coffee, and the mug was empty, so I pushed it away.

“She told me he was a good man, a cop, and he was taking care of us, so I needed to be a better woman. Haven’t talked to her since. ”

Bama stood and grabbed my mug. “You want more? We polished off this pot but I can make another.”

“No. I shouldn’t have had as much as I did. My nerves are already shot. The extra caffeine won’t help that.” I didn’t have my phone and wasn’t sure the local news here would even mention it if Marshall had reported us missing.

Standing, I twisted at the waist then stretched.

My eyes landed on Bama, and he was watching me again.

It was hard to read him, but he didn’t look at me with pity.

He told me several times he kept noticing the marks and bruises, but something in his eyes was more than empathetic.

Or maybe I just wished someone would look at me like something other than a cocksleeve or punching bag and like a woman.

My feelings were confusing. I hadn’t been turned on in a long time. Marshall was fit, and he used to be handsome. I stopped physically wanting him once he started abusing me, though. Even with how I used to feel about him, he didn’t hold a candle to Bama.

This man was the kind you thought about with the detachable shower head.

He was tall and built. He moved with a quiet confidence, but not arrogance.

The tattoos scattered over his skin only added to that fantasy allure.

But he wasn’t what I expected the first time I saw him. Was that only hours ago?

Bama’s presence was calming and all-consuming at the same time. I was still on edge wondering what Marshall was doing; was he looking for us, or did he report us missing? But overall, I was comfortable–relaxed.

It wasn’t lost on me that when I mentioned Glenda he explained they weren’t a thing. Why would it matter? He could have just shrugged it off. I was about to ask him a stupid question but before I could, he spoke.

“I gotta run to the clubhouse and check-in then have some errands. You’ll be safe here. Help yourself to anything in the fridge and you can shower or whatever.”

The small fire that had been trying to ignite low in my belly was stamped out. “Okay. Do you care if I turn on the TV for her when she wakes up?”

“Anything here you’re welcome to. I have more guns in my closet, so maybe keep her out of there, but that’s it. What are your sizes?”

I blinked rapidly. “Um, sizes?”

He washed the mugs in the sink as he said, “You know, shoe sizes, pants, shirts.”

“Way to put a girl on the spot. Sadie’s in seven-eight clothes in the kid’s sizes, and kid’s one in shoes.

” I looked down for a minute, and realized he’d seen me without a bra in cotton jammies, so the jig was up.

“I’m in twelve pants, large shirts, size eight women’s shoes.

But I’m really okay. I brought a few things. ”

“You have maybe two outfits each in that little ass bag. It’s hot and muggy here so you’ll need clothes, especially her. I’m gonna catch a shower and be back later. I don’t want to wake her up, so can you go grab some clothes for me?”

Trying not to ogle his bare chest and abs, and sad about him covering them up, I nodded. “Sure. Just tell me where it all is.”

After he told me where to find some underwear, socks, jeans, and a t-shirt, I tip-toed into the bedroom. The curtains were dark, but just enough sunlight peeked around them to let me see the closet and chest of drawers.

I opened the closet door slowly, thankful it wasn’t squeaky, and pulled down the first pair of jeans I found. The shirts were neatly folded in the drawers, and again I grabbed the first one I saw.

Then I opened the top drawer. I pulled out a pair of socks, then grabbed a pair of underwear. Boxer-briefs. Having seen him shirtless, I could only imagine what he’d look like in a pair of those.

“Mommy.”

I whipped around, losing the jeans from my grasp. “Yes, sweet girl. Go back to sleep.”

Sadie sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I need to pee.”

Nothing like your kid to snap you back to reality. “Okay. Bama has to get ready soon, so let’s run in fast so he can use the bathroom.”

She climbed out of the bed, and I grabbed the jeans from the floor, then followed her out.

“Good morning,” Sadie squealed down the hall.

His deep voice answered in a cheery tone. “Well, good morning to you.”

“She needs to use the potty really quick. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Sadie went inside, and I stood there motionless.

“Why don’t I take those,” Bama said as he came closer.

His hands brushed my arms as he grabbed the pile of clothes from me.

“I hope these are okay, it was dark.”

He smiled. “I’m sure they’re perfect. Thank you.”

He lingered there close, the pile half in my arms, half in his.

I couldn't stop my chest from rising and falling with deep but hurried breaths.

His eyes locked onto my lips and my tongue immediately darted out, but the touch only reminded me of the huge, busted lip I was sporting.

Of course he was looking at that and not my actual mouth.

“All done,” Sadie said as she flung the door open.

He cleared his throat and pulled the clothes from me. “Do you need to go before I get in there?”

“Actually, yeah. Lots of coffee.” I also needed to splash some cold water on my face, but he didn’t need to know that.

Staring at myself in the mirror after I used the bathroom and washed my hands, I investigated my face.

My lip was busted, but the swelling had gone down quite a bit.

The bruise around my eye was three different colors, but the swelling wasn’t as bad there either.

I still had a lot of burst blood vessels on that eye, too.

The finger marks on my neck were much more pronounced now and the ones on my arms were similar.

I splashed some water on my face, then patted it dry with the hand towel hanging up. It wasn’t a spread from a magazine, but his house was tidy and functional. Not what I expected from a man like him. Maybe that was judgmental, but after living with Marshall, I assumed most men were slobs.

After cooling down and telling myself he was looking at my cracked lip and nothing else, I finally got out of the bathroom so he could shower.

My heart sped up when they both weren’t standing there when I came out. I power walked to the living room, then around the corner and let out a heavy sigh when Sadie was sitting at the table.

“She said she’s not allergic to anything, so I made her some cereal,” Bama said before placing a bowl in front of her.

My hand went to my mouth, and I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“Yep, thanks.” That was all I could manage to say without sobbing.

It was so silly to be choked up over that, but Marshall never once fed Sadie.

And this man we just met got her comfortable, was buying her clothes, and fed her breakfast.

Fuck. Why did he have to be so…perfect?