“And the freckles?” she asked.
I chuckled. “The freckles are all yours, babe. Doesn’t matter who they came from, they’re yours.”
She smiled as I pushed the hem of her skirt up to reveal the little bunch of freckles that looked like an astrological cluster at the top of her thigh. I pointed to one and looked at her.
“Apart from this one right here,” I said. “This one here is all mine.” I smirked and she did a weird laughing-crying thing and hiccupped, and I hated that it was cute as fuck, but there was no denying that it was cute as fuck either.
“I never want to hurt you again, Belle, but I can’t promise you I won’t.” I held her gaze as I spoke the truest words of my life. “But I promise that I’ll try to be the man you need if you’ll have me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
~ Belle ~
We drove to the prison to pick up my mom, because despite what Beast said, I couldn’t leave her in there. If I hadn’t replied to her letter or if this hadn’t already been arranged, then maybe I could have walked away from her, but as it was, I couldn’t. I had to see it through.
After meeting with Warden Hoole and signing all the necessary paperwork, we were instructed to wait outside and that they would send her out to us. I was leaning against the side of my car, feeling sick with nerves, when Beast came over to stand in front of me. He reached out and I leaned into his arms, feeling safe and protected in his embrace. I leaned my head on his chest as his body held me steady, and I breathed in his aura, hoping that it might give me a little more strength.
“It’ll be all right, Belle,” he said, and I nodded in agreement, even though I wasn’t sure I believed him. “I’ll make sure of it.”
My chest tightened, my body flooding with affection for him. He really meant what he’d said earlier about having my back, and it brought tears to my eyes because of how close I’d come to ruining this. Beast and I had nothing in common, nothing but what we felt for each other. I had no idea if this could work between us, and at the moment I didn’t care. All I cared about was living each moment with him. Because if caring for him in the hospital had taught me anything, it was that things could change in a heartbeat. Nothing was safe from the finality of death. It could all be taken away in a moment’s notice.
“Belle?” A woman’s voice called out my name and I took a deep, calming breath of Beast before standing up. The moment his arms left me I wanted them back, so I reached over to take his hand. I glanced down at our joined hands, realizing how comical it looked—my tiny one swallowed by his huge one.
I finally looked up, my gaze meeting my mother’s—or at least the woman that called herself my mom. She was tall and lithe, with bony shoulders and hip bones that jutted out—but not because she was skinny, but because she’d been blessed with a flat stomach and large hips. I didn’t get my figure from her, that much was obvious.
Her hair was long and blond. Not even fake blond, but real blond. Like the sun had kissed the top of her head. And God, she was pretty. I wanted her to be ugly and awful, so her outsides would match her insides, but they didn’t. She was tall and blond and beautiful and I looked nothing like her at all.
She smiled widely and came toward me, a paper bag hanging limply in her grip. “Baby!” she said as she got closer and opened her arms for me to fall into. But instead of going to her, I stepped back, pulling Beast with me.
“You okay?” he asked, and I nodded yes, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t okay at all.
This woman was a stranger to me in every way, and every part of me from my head to my toes was telling me to get away from her. She stopped walking and scowled.
“Well, that’s no way to greet your mom now, is it?” She popped her hip as she put a hand on it, dropping the paper bag of her things at her feet. “Clearly you get your manners from your dad,” she bit out nastily.
I opened my mouth to say something, but I wasn’t sure what, so I was glad when her gaze finally turned on Beast. Not so glad when her eyes lit up at the sight of him.
“My little Belle, seems like you got yourself a naughty biker boyfriend.” She stepped closer to Beast, taking in every tattooed, scarred inch of him with a discerning eye. “Shame you picked the ugly one, but at least you know he’ll never leave you,” she laughed, dismissing him and looking back at me. I felt Beast’s grip tighten on mine.
“Don’t speak about him like that,” I said, my voice quiet, almost shy. Beast didn’t need me to defend him, and he certainly wouldn’t want me to, but I couldn’t stand there and not say anything. Especially when she was so wrong.
Beast was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, with or without the scars, and I’d be damned if I let anyone say any different about him.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, we’re all into our own kinky stuff. You obviously have a hero complex. It’s fine, at least you know no one will try and steal him away from you.” She snickered. “Can we go now? I’m starving and I’ve been stuck in that hellhole for four years.”
My mom moved toward the back seat of my car, and as she opened the door I reached out and slammed it closed again, making her jump. My hand slipped from Beast’s as I glared at her. Suddenly, I wasn’t a lost little girl needing her mother’s love anymore. I was Beast’s woman, and no one spoke about my man like that. Not even this awful woman.
“A hero complex?” I said, my voice hard.
She turned to me, her gaze going briefly to Beast, who hadn’t moved from his spot. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was hurt, angry, or because he thought that I could handle this situation on my own, but either way I was angry and embarrassed that she’d treated him like that, but mostly I was hurt for him.
Mom rolled her eyes. “Sweetheart, it’s okay, I’m not judging. Some people just like to be the hero of their own story. Me, I prefer to be the damsel in distress. It’s all okay.”
But it wasn’t okay.
Every word she said made her pretty mask slip further and further until all I could see was the ugly underneath her skin. The vileness in her soul. She thought I was with Beast because I had a hero complex, and maybe that had been true at one point. I wanted to save him, not because of his scars, but in spite of them. But the real hero here was Beast. He’d saved me over and over. The fact that she couldn’t see past his scars and burns told me everything I needed to know about me as a person and who I was.
“Who’s my dad?” I asked bluntly.
Her expression changed from sardonic to blank in a split second. “It doesn’t matter who he was. You’re my daughter, not his.”
I gritted my teeth, hating her for making me ask. Hating her for not putting his name on the birth certificate. Hating her because I was nothing like her, and despite what Beast said about the person you really were having nothing to do with your parents, I hated her because I still wanted to know.
“But I’m not, am I? I’m his daughter.” I waved a hand between us. “Look at us. I’m nothing like you.”
She rolled her eyes again. “You certainly get your dramatic flair from him.”
“Tell me,” I pressed, almost pleading.