Chapter 13 #4
There were memories of when he was heavier, standing in front of a car with his arms crossed and a look on his face like the world hadn't given him a reason to smile that day.
A few photos over he was leaner, and his gaze had softened from whatever it used to carry.
Something inside him had started loosening its grip.
Further down the wall he kept changing in small increments, the way people change when they're rebuilding something on purpose instead of letting life happen to them.
By the time my eyes reached the more recent photographs he was the man standing beside me, at peace with whoever he had decided to become.
I could see the whole shape of him without him having to say a word.
He came and stood beside me and didn't say anything. He understood that some things needed to be witnessed slowly.
He pointed to one.
The woman in the photograph had his smile. Her locs were long and full, wound up beautifully, and even through the age of the photograph I could see the life sitting in her eyes. The picture showed her warmth for her life. She looked like someone who laughed easily and meant it every time.
"That's my mother," he said quietly.
“Wow, you look just like her.”
“Thank you.”
“When did you find that beautiful picture?"
"I found that picture a while back."
I didn't say anything because nothing I could have said would have been enough. His mother dying was a wound I knew he had to make peace with, and it seemed like he did.
Then he pointed to another one.
The boy in this picture was tall for his age, all legs and smiles, standing at what looked like a campsite with mud covering both him and Bane.
The two of them were grinning at whoever was holding the camera.
The boy had his glasses pushed on the bridge of his nose and a fresh cut under a hat, holding up a fish.
His smile took over the entire photograph. Everything else fell back behind it.
"That's my son," Bane said. "His name is Ryan Bankole."
I turned and looked at him. "Your son?"
He nodded. "Yes… I adopted him a while back. It started out helping with foster kids through a Big Brother program and—" he shrugged, "—couldn't leave him in the system after that. Wasn't really a decision besides bringing him home with me."
I stood there looking at this man, this whole family wall, a garden out front, his mother's photograph hanging exactly where he could see her every day, and I thought about the corner near Bulldogs. He really made something of himself, and I couldn’t more proud of him.
He had so many things in his way, and he could’ve got caught up with Uncle Bobby near the swamps, but he didn’t.
He had built all of this himself, from nothing.
On top of all that, he had still gotten on a plane the second I called him.
I was so deep in thought, I didn’t feel him ease up on me until he hugged me from behind. His chin rested on top of my head, and we stood there in front of his family wall for a good minute. I felt this whirlwind of feelings and nowhere to put them.
"I feel like I was away too long," I said quietly, still looking at the wall instead of at him.
He didn't say anything, just held me a little closer.
It was clear he hadn't had a woman in this house. Or around him, really. His phone hadn't rung once the entire time we'd been together, and that meant something I wasn't sure I had the right to feel as good about as I did.
I thought about Malcolm then, just for a second, and what surprised me was how little it hurt to think about him standing here.
Maybe him messing up had been the best thing that ever happened to me.
It had brought me back here, back to this, and now I was standing in the middle of a whole life Bane had built with his own hands while I was three states away pretending I had moved on.
This was just … wow.
I thought about what I'd told Layla, about Kylo, about how the people we love rarely hear out loud how proud we are of them, how that silence costs more than we realize.
I almost said it. I almost turned around and told him exactly how proud I was of the man standing in front of this wall, of everything he had built with his own two hands out of nothing.
But his head was already big enough without my help.
So I just leaned back into him instead and let the moment say it for me.
“Where’s your son?”
"Ryan's at school for orientation," he said against my hair, "so when you start hollering, ain't nobody gonna interrupt us."
I elbowed him.
He grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the hallway.
"Wait —"
“Nah, I’m done with that shit. Bring yo’ ass.”
“Unhand me!” I planted my feet and laughed, pulling back against his grip. "You didn't finish the tour."
"We can do that later." He tugged. "Come on, wife."
"Bane —" I was giggling against my own will, trying to dig my heels into his beautiful hardwood floors. "I want to see the rest of the house —"
"You'll see it." He was practically dragging me down the hallway. "Later."
I tried to tug away, and got absolutely nowhere with it. This man was too strong to even notice he was carrying me along like some luggage.
"This is not —" I grabbed the doorframe of the hallway with both hands and held on. "You are not about to just drag me to that room—"
He stopped pulling and turned around. I could see him trying not to laugh and losing.
“What you scared of?”
“Ain’t nobody scared of you, sir.”
"Then let go of my doorframe, ma’am."
"You gone take me through the whole house first," I said, holding on with both hands. "I didn't even see the backyard —"
"Lauren."
"I'm not going in there until I see the backyard—"
He walked back toward me and I braced myself for whatever he was about to do/
Tell me why this man kissed me.
It wasn’t some quick distraction kiss meant to get me moving. It was a real one with both hands holding my face. He was so thorough and passionate, my grip on that doorframe loosened all by itself.
When he pulled back I was still holding on, but with a lot less conviction than I started with.
He leaned in close to my ear.
"If you don't come willingly," he warned, "I'm carrying you to that bed."
I tried to hold my face together and failed immediately.
"Boy." I shook my head, still fighting it. "I forgot how you used to struggle to even pick me up—"
He bent down and scooped me up before I finished the sentence. Then, he started dashing down the hall toward the bedroom.
"No—" I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, laughing despite myself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry.—"
"Nah." He kept walking, not even slowing down. "Don't be sorry now. You had your chance."
"Bane—"
"You gon' stop playing with me," he said, turning sideways through the doorway with me still in his arms, "and you gon' give me what I want. You ain't changed one bit, still trying to run, but that's alright." He looked down at me. "I'm about to put all that back in check."
I matched his stare and stopped laughing.
Deep down, underneath all the playing and the pulling away and the bratty refusals, I had been looking forward to exactly this from the moment he put his hand on my thigh in that truck and told me to buckle up.
I had always loved the way this man handled me. Fully, completely, with his entire focus and not a single apology. I had never told him that out loud, but I stopped fighting.
And he knew.
He always knew.
He lowered me back into the velvet expanse of the sheets, and his massive hands slowing down just enough to feather across my collarbone before he went completely still.
He just looked at me. It was that quiet, heavy look that made my chest ache because it showed me exactly how completely he was consumed by my existence. In that unblinking stare, a terrifying, gorgeous gravity of Big Bane and his intentions with me.
He was looking at me like he was trying to grasp the fact that I was actually here.
In his space. In his life. Back in the place I had been running toward from the very beginning, even when we were both too stubborn and blind to see the path.
The edge in his tatted jaw softened, and he flashed that wicked smile that made my heart drop.
He was about to put it down so crazy that my dignity was officially on its final notice.
The second Bane locked those dark eyes on me and started handling his belt, my brain completely checked out of the building.
I was about to look like a whole cartoon character with literal hearts floating around my head, just layin' there completely whipped, letting this man do whatever the hell he wanted to.
It was tragic, really, but as long as he hurried up and dropped that dick in me, he could have my whole soul too.