Richmond-Banks Brothers 1: A Hopeless Place (BWWM Interracial Romance) Read online

  I climbed off the bed, Bennett watching my every move, and headed to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit with your lunch. Try to eat a little more today, will ya?”

  I returned a bit later with his lunch and situated the tray over his lap like I always did.

  “What’s this?” he said, staring down at the plate. “This isn’t on my menu.”

  “You’re way too skinny,” I told him. “You’re skin and bones, Bennett. I bet if you put on a little bit of weight, you’d feel better. Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired. Maybe you’d be able to move around without needing so much help. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  His face twisted as if I’d struck a nerve. “You think you’re the first person who’s ever tried to get me to eat more?”

  “Just try. That’s all I ask,” I replied, my hands in the air.

  He stared down at the hearty bowl of potato soup in front of him strategically loaded with shredded cheddar, bacon pieces, and croutons. He took an inaudible sip from the soup spoon.

  “Not bad, huh?” I asked with a patient smile.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “Potato bacon corn chowder,” I replied. “A Robinson family recipe.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “All right? That’s all I get?” It was like pulling teeth with him sometimes.

  “You did a good job. I like it,” he finally complimented me. “Just don’t deviate from the menu too often. That’s all I ask. I have a highly sensitive stomach.”

  “Your routines make you feel safe, don’t they?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?” he said, turning slowly to meet my gaze.

  “Listen, I get it,” I said, standing firm in my suggestion. “You’ve had a pretty shitty life so far. You have this disease that will never go away. You’re tired all the time. You never feel well. You’re stuck in this room all day long. Your parents pawn you off onto someone else so they don’t’ have to look after you as much, and your routines are the only constant in your life. They’re your security blanket. They’re the only thing you have to rely on. They never let you down.”

  “Good job, Amara. Way to go,” he said with a sarcastic smirk. I’d angered him. “You’ve been here just a few days now, and you have me completely figured out.”

  I stood up and walked over to his window.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded to know.

  “What does it look like?” I asked, flinging open the thick, dark tapestry curtains.

  He buried his eyes into the crook of his left elbow. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  I flipped the latches on the window and slid it open. “Hear that? Listen.”

  Bennett lowered his arm and peered toward the window with narrowed eyes. “What am I listening for?”

  “Robins. Do you hear them?”

  “Yes, what about them?”

  “There’s a whole world out there, Bennett, and you’re just denying yourself the privilege of knowing it,” I said, standing on my soapbox. “You need to be a part of that. You owe it to yourself. Live a little.”

  “Why is this so important to you,” Bennett scoffed. “You’re just hired help.”

  “I’m a nurse,” I said, holding my head high. “Believe it or not, I care about you.”

  I grabbed his dishes and left his room, returning a few minutes later with a pair of sneakers in hand.

  “What are those for?” Bennett asked, wrinkling his nose at me.

  “It took me forever to find these. I think they’re your dad’s, but they should work.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, crossing his arms like a petulant child, his golden eyes burning into mine.

  “I have something I want to show you,” I said. I could argue with him all day, if that was what it was going to take. I had all the time in the world.

  Bennett glanced out the window as a light breeze ruffled his thick, chocolate brown hair, pushing it into his eyes. I walked over and pushed the hair off his face. The reflection of the sunlight in his hazel eyes nearly took my breath away. He was beautiful, almost in an otherworldly sort of way, as if he didn’t belong here and was merely passing through.

  “Where are you taking me?” Bennett asked, his tone relenting and defeated.

  “I’m taking you to my car.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass,” he said with a humored huff. “You know what I meant.”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” I teased.

  Within minutes, we were sitting in my car, buckled in, waiting for the heat to kick on. Bennett shivered as he rubbed his hands together, saying nothing.

  “We’re just taking a little cruise,” I said, my breath turning into puffy white clouds that quickly dissipated once they hit the warm air that was beginning to blow from the vents. I pressed my foot against the accelerator and my car lunged forward, the engine rattling.

  “Geez, loud enough for you?” Bennett said.

  “I’m sorry, my family isn’t loaded and could only afford to get me this piecer,” I replied. “But it gets me where I need to go, so I can’t really complain.”

  He sat still and quiet for a bit as we drove out of his neighborhood. I had less than a quarter of a tank of gas, but it was enough to get us out of that Godforsaken mansion for a while.

  “Do you know how to drive?” I asked.

  “Nope. Never learned.”

  “Maybe I can teach you someday,” I offered. I looked over at Bennett, who had removed his hat and gloves. The heat from the vents was starting to create a sauna in my little car. It was always one extreme or the other with that thing. “You can roll down your window, if you want.”

  He pressed the button on the passenger door and cracked the window, letting in a burst of frigid February air. “I want to see where you live.”

  “It’s nothing special,” I said with hesitation. “Just a small house on the other side of town.”

  “I want to see it.” He was as stubborn as ever.

  “I don’t know. Maybe another time.”

  “I’m just curious, that’s all. I won’t judge, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I drove north to my part of town, just past the vacated appliance factory and the UAW union hall and further on by the seedy bars and strip clubs that everyone knew existed in Halverford, but no one ever talked about. We drove through a couple more neighborhoods all branded by unkempt yards and chain link fences, and I slowed down as I approached Halverford Avenue.

  “Right there,” I said as I pointed across the dashboard. “That little yellow house with the blue shutters.”

  Bennett stared and said nothing. My entire house could probably fit into half of the dining hall at Bennett’s house.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Pretty impressive. I know.”

  “Quaint,” he said. At least he was being honest.

  “I grew up there with my parents and little sister. I had my own room, but yes, it’s a very small house. We’re a pretty close family, though, so it’s not that big of a deal to be crammed in there together. You know what’s weird?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Growing up, it never felt small to me,” I said with a nostalgic smile. “It always felt cozy. Perfect.”

  “The Halverford Manse is the only home I’ve ever known,” Bennett replied, shuddering from the cold air that seeped in through the cracked window. “My family’s not close at all. Maybe our house is too big.”

  “I don’t think it works that way,” I said. I reached underneath my seat and pulled out a CD case, tossing it in his lap. “Pick something.”

  Bennett unzipped the case and carefully flipped through my music collection. “Iron and Wine?”

  “You like them too?” I asked.

  “Love them,” Bennett said.

  “I’ve never met anyone else who even knew who they were,” I mused.

  “Sam Beam’s lyrics make you think of everything in a different way,” Bennett said
, reaching over to turn up the volume as the distinctive guitar plucking of Resurrection Fern began to play.

  “Should we head back?” I eventually asked after noticing the falling needle of my gas tank and the flashing icon in my dashboard telling me to get gas now.

  “Yeah, we can,” he said almost regrettably. “I am getting a little hungry.”

  “I don’t really feel like cooking tonight. Can we just stop at a drive-thru, or something?”

  “I’m not supposed to eat fast food,” Bennett protested. “It’s not healthy.”

  “I think we can make an exception, don’t you?”

  I pulled into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint and ordered two cheeseburger meals before heading back to the mansion.

  “We should eat at the kitchen table tonight instead of your bedroom,” I said as I helped him out of the car. He gripped my arm as we shuffled on the frozen-snow covered sidewalk to the back entrance. I sat him down at the table and grabbed two plates. “I can’t believe it’s dark out already. Looks like it’s going to rain.”

  Bennett quietly shoveled food in his mouth and nodded.

  “I think it’s an early-to-bed kind of night,” I said, watching him devour his greasy dinner. “You really like that, don’t you?”

  “It’s pretty good,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

  I smiled, secretly proud of myself for getting him to eat so well all week. He would start putting on weight in no time. I planned on making him a huge breakfast the next morning. I refused to let him subsist on plain oatmeal and wheat toast any longer.

  Bennett finished his dinner, and I helped him upstairs and into his bed.

  “Was today all that bad?” I asked, pulling the covers over him.

  “I actually had a really nice time today,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. It was probably one of the nicest things he’d said to me all week.

  “You and your backhanded compliments,” I snickered.

  Without warning, Bennett moved his hand up to my face and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “That was bugging me.”

  He was starting to come out of his shell, even if only in small increments. I was sort of starting to love my job, and spending my days with Bennett was actually becoming fun.

  “You can call me Jules, if you want,” he said.

  “Like Jules Verne?” I asked. “I like Bennett. It suits you better. It’s sort of all buttoned-up and proper, like you.”

  “I’m not buttoned-up,” he scoffed.

  I laughed, the tension in my body fading slowly. “I bet to differ.”

  Bennett sat up in his bed and inched closer to me, and for a brief moment, I felt like he wanted to kiss me. I quickly snapped out of it, telling myself I was imagining things.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m not tired anymore,” he said. “Want to stay up and talk?”

  He patted the spot on his bed next to him.

  “Or we can stay up and watch a little T.V., or something,” he suggested.

  “Sure, okay,” I said, sliding in next to him and leaning back against the headboard.

  Bennett flipped the T.V. to a boring cable news show where two pundits were discussing the economy, debating whether or not we were truly out of the recession. I glanced over at him through the corner of my eye. In the glow of the T.V., he looked normal. I didn’t see his sunken cheeks or under eye circles. He didn’t look sick. He was actually quite handsome with his square jaw, full lips, penetrating champagne eyes, and perfectly straight nose.

  I yawned and instinctively scooted my back down the headboard until my head hit the pillow.

  “Stay awake,” Bennett said as he nudged me.

  “I know. I’m trying. I’m so tired.”

  “I want to show you something.” He turned off the T.V. and sent the room into pitch darkness, which sent me into a state of instant alertness. I heard him clicking a few buttons, and in an instant, the ceiling lit up with stars. “It’s my own little planetarium.”

  “Bennett,” I said, sitting up. “This is beautiful.”

  “I turn it on every night before bed. I have it on a timer. It helps me fall asleep sometimes.”

  “I love this. Does my room have one?”

  I sunk back into his soft bed and slipped my hands behind my head as I took in the simplistic, starry sky above us. Lying there in the dark, I felt the warmth of his breath close to my face and the soft caress of his hand upon my cheek, gently pulling my lips toward his. I thought about pushing him away, but confusion paralyzed me, and it felt so good to be wanted again. His lips pressed against mine, softly and tenderly. Perfectly sweet.

  I pushed him away the second I remembered how much I loved working there and how much I needed that job. “I should go to bed.”

  BENNETT

  She left my room in a hurry, and I thanked God she couldn’t see how red-hot my cheeks were burning. Why’d I have to go and kiss her? I clicked off the planetarium and threw my remote across the room.

  The taste of her lips lingered on mine. A mix of cherry lip balm and cinnamon gum—that was what Amara Robinson tasted like. She was my first kiss. At twenty-fucking-four years old, she was my first kiss.

  Rolling around town with her, listening to music and talking about whatever happened to come to mind, I just felt different around her. The Bennett Richmond-Banks who had returned to the mansion earlier that night was not the same one who’d walked out of there that morning.

  I pulled the covers over my head, desperate to forget what had just happened, and closed my eyes.

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of Amara’s voice and the creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet as she carried my breakfast over to the table by my window.

  “I made you an awesome breakfast,” she said proudly. Much to my relief, she was pretending like the kiss hadn’t happened.

  I wasn’t half the person Amara was, though, and I couldn’t pretend. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I just spent an hour downstairs making this for you,” Amara pouted. “I’ll be really disappointed if you don’t touch it.”

  “You eat it, then.”

  “I want you to have it. I made it for you.”

  I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to see her pretty eyes pleading with me or the pout of her full lips, the very same ones I’d claimed the night before in a fit of I-don’t-know-what. I didn’t want to see the way her t-shirt hugged the slight curve of her hips or the way her black yoga pants left very little to the imagination.

  “I said, I’m not hungry,” I repeated, not mincing my words.

  “You know,” she said with a frustrated sigh, “I was perfectly fine acting like nothing happened last night. I don’t know why you have to be this way.”

  I forced myself to look right at her, and the vision of her pretty face and soft features in the faint light of my room was like pouring salt into an open wound. I’d never wanted something so badly in my life, and the fact that I couldn’t have her drove me insane.

  “I can’t do that,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s all I can think about.”

  She sauntered up to the bed, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear and sitting down next to me. “Look. I genuinely care about you. I want to work for your family for years to come. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

  Her voice was soft and sweet, but not reassuring enough for me. “You’re just saying that.”

  “I’m assuming I’m the first girl your age that you’ve spent this much time with,” she said, treading lightly. “I’m sure you’re confused about how you feel toward me. We were lying in bed last night in the dark. The stars were lit above us. We’d just spent the entire day together. It was romantic, I’ll admit. I can see how it happened. I just don’t want to jeopardize anything, okay? I want to be around for as long as I can.”

  “I guess,” I said, my eyes falling to the floor, releasing her gaze.

  The faint shudder of the front door
opening and closing below us brought us out of the conversation, and Amara ran to the window to see who was here.

  “Your parents are back early,” she said. I could hear a hint of disappointment in her voice, whether or not she realized it.

  “Hi, there,” my mother said as she quietly made her presence known in my doorway a few minutes later. Her black Chanel bag dripped from her shoulder, the chain digging into the fur lapel of her jacket. “Obviously, you can see we’re back early. Your father closed on the deal the first day we were there. He’s just that good.”

  “Did you get to do anything fun while you were there?” Amara asked.

  Ingrid studied our faces. “We did see a show, but I was anxious to get back and see how my baby was doing.”

  She rushed to my side in a forced attempt to pretend like she actually gave two shits about me.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Amara offered. I quickly shot her a look, but she wasn’t looking my way. I didn’t want her to leave. I’d have taken those awkward minutes with Amara over being alone with my mother anytime.

  “Actually, Amara, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Ingrid offered. “You’ve been working so hard this week. Please, take some time for yourself.”

  “Thanks so much!” Amara said. A little part of me died when I saw the excitement written all over her face.

  “Why do you seem so sad, Bennett?” my mother asked the second Amara left the room. “Did this week go all right?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I snipped, turning away from her.

  “Are you not feeling well?” she asked, placing her cold palm against my warm forehead. I wanted to tell her to cut the crap. No one was watching. She didn’t need to pretend like she cared anymore.

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “Do you miss Eleanor?”

  “Not really.”

  “Are things not working with Amara? Should we find someone else?”

  “No,” I said, snapping my face in her direction. “Amara is great. Don’t get rid of her. I’m just tired. I want to take a nap.”

  My mother hesitated before standing up, studying me as if I wasn’t the same son she’d left just a few days ago. “Okay. I’ll leave you be.”