Day And Night Ch 05 Pt 01

Hey everyone,

As many of you already know, I had to evacuate China (the country I'd been living in for a few years) a few months back. I decided to go to America since that's where I'm from and where my family is. Whelp, let's just say things didn't settle down and get back to normal. It's been a rough couple of... forever? Feels like

forever

.

Anyway, I was about halfway through chapter five when all this shit hit and I haven't really been able to get the second half done. Now, the only reason I'm posting a half finished chapter is because I have EVERY INTENTION to finish it soon. I've also been getting asked when Day and Beth are making an appearance and I don't think it's fair to the readers to have you all waiting any longer.

But before we dive in know two things: 1) it's short (cause, ya know, it's half a chapter) and 2) there's no sex, only feelings. So. Many. Feelings.

I'm always a big advocate for constructive feedback, and would especially like it for this chapter since it's so feeling-heavy.

And one more thing: I'll be posting all of my work on Lit for the foreseeable future. Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow and as fun as it is to have these stories sitting on my laptop collecting dust waiting for me to get my shit together and publish them, I figured it was about time I just got on with it.

That being said, you can look at my profile for more information. Spoiler: it's all about staying inside and helping out your community in times of crisis.

Enough talking. Let's end with thanks for reading, rating, and the feedback.

-Rosi

***

Beth's lips were soft on Day's, a slow exploration as her fingers rubbed circles in his neck. This was new to him—making out like teenagers on the couch, dry humping with no intention to go further.

For the moment.

Day drew back, taking a breath and a second to process what he'd promised: to try.

She drives me crazy! Woo! Woo!

Blinking back in surprise, he listened to the trilling of a late eighties' song. "That yours?"

Panting, still grinding that hot little pussy over him, Beth nodded. "It is."

Fucking her raw on the couch wasn't in his plans for the night, but that's exactly where it was going. Day knew this and the interruption of the ring tone was the only thing keeping him from making it a reality. "You gonna answer it?"

She paused, frowned, rolled her eyes and snatched up the phone. "Hey, Mom."

That right there should have been an ice bath to his dick, but it wasn't. Not with Beth still in his lap, her tits still in his face, and her thighs spread wide. But he couldn't find it in himself to move her or himself, especially not when her face changed from flushed, wide-eyed excitement to pinched shame.

Immediately, he tuned into her conversation.

"What happened?" Beth's mother asked, voice frantic. "We got a call from a lawyer and a reporter!"

"Jason," Beth started with a deep sigh, leaning forward and dropping her forehead on Day's shoulder. His hands went from her waist up: one burying in her hair while the other rubbed soothing circles into her back. "Attacked Simone and me."

"I knew there was something off with that man. Piece of dog shit, he is!" a male voice spat, even as Beth's mother gasped, "What?"

"Hey, Daddy."

"Ya shoot his ass, Beth?"

"No."

"This is why you need a gun—"

"I do not

need

a gun, Daddy. Jesus Christ."

"But you're alright, Beth?" her mother interrupted, worry gnawing at the words. "You're somewhere safe?"

"I'm fine. A little shook up, but I'm with a friend."

Only the jerk of his muscles gave Day away. Because they weren't friends, not really. Not lovers either. They were just two people with feelings that were faster than labels. Faster than either could process, even as they tried.

"But what

happened

, honey?" her mother tried again, desperation edging her tone. "You seemed to be gettin' along—I mean you were plannin' a wedding! Then he attacks you?"

"I—" she started, stopped, blew out the longest breath in history and sagged against him as all the energy drained out of her. But never once did Day pull away or stop the movement of his hands. "I caught him having an affair. In our home. A few days ago."

Each line seemed to be ripped from her, quick with an overly long pause between the sentences. "I left. I've been staying at a hotel for the past week. But I went back yesterday and..."

"You're not staying with one of his friends, are you?" her father asked abruptly, fury in the words.

"No. I'm staying with someone he doesn't know."

"Good. Good." The words were practically growled before all semblance of rationality flew out the window. "I'm gonna fucking kill 'im."

Day shivered at the threat because it was sounded real. Whoever Beth's father was, the man knew how to deliver a threat.

"He's not worth prison, Dad."

"You let me decide that."

"No, Mr. McNair," Beth's mother snapped, voice just as hard and ruthless as her husband's, "I can't run a farm by myself, so you're not killing Jason. And don't you know that everyone is listening to these calls. That's no way to plan a murder."

Her parents are insane,

Day thought with a smile. He couldn't remember a time when he'd had a conversation even close to the one Beth and her parents were having. His mother and grandmother had been too serious, too busy, and too aware of the realities of being Black in America. You didn't deliver threats, make jokes, or say anything that—if it was played back on a recording—could be used to get you thrown in jail. Hell, he hadn't even grown up with a social media account. The best feature his phone had growing up was long-distance calling.

"Mom, Dad," Beth groaned, the sound vibrating against Day's shoulder, "I gotta get some rest."

"Did you have to go to the hospital?" her mother asked abruptly before Beth could end the call.

"No... I'm also just remembering where you live. Please go down to Perry's and spread the word that I'm fine. Not in a hospital. Not dead. Fine."

"I wouldn't use fine right now."

"I'm... dealing with it. It's just a lot. I was... so scared."

"Oh, honey," her mother said gently, the words almost a physical caress. "I know you were. I'm so sorry you had to experience that."

Day didn't have to think about his arms tightening around Beth, they just did. He felt her pull back slightly, tilting her head to look into his eyes; hers were shiny with unshed tears, but strong. There was so much strength in her body, strength he hadn't seen in a woman since before Shontell had been diagnosed. Men might have the upper-hand physically, but women had the kind of strength that mattered, that brought children into the world, raised them up, created whole movements and generations.

Those were her eyes: purpose and strength and conviction.

"Thank you,"

Beth mouthed, leaning forward to press her lips to his. It was chaste, but that didn't stop the dick that had been relaxing beneath her to take notice.

"Beth!" her father said loudly over the phone, making both Day and Beth jump.

"Huh?"

"I said, don't go back to him," her father said quickly, almost defensively. "You can layer all the honey in the world over shit but it'll never change it."

"I know."

"Do you, honey?" her mother asked with a sad sign. "Just take care. Any second you wanna leave that city and come home, you can."

"I know," Beth replied quietly. "Love y'all."

"Love ya, too," the pair intoned before Beth clicked off the phone and dropped it onto the couch.

Her arms snaked around his neck, holding tight as she took a second to compose herself. Day let her, needing the time himself.

He wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation. It was obvious her parents were farmers and the causal way guns were brought up, Day believed that Beth was pretty well versed in their use. Probably in lots of things. He'd realized she wasn't native, but the soft drawl and accent she'd adopted on the phone let Day know that it wasn't just different states they came from but completely different world.

White. Farmer's daughter. Set to marry a rich asshole abuser.

Black. From the hood. Windowed with a kid.

Try.

"Your parents seem nice," Day finally said to break the silence and the creeping tension.

Her laughter was soft. "They are. Nice and crazy. They were deep into Woodstock and all the drugs. Did the commune thing. Hated it. Loved growing their own food, taking care of the animals. Took their weed money and bought a farm. Been there 30 years."

Day tugged at her hair until she pulled back and met his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Actually, yes."

"Okay." Day wasn't exactly sure what response she was hoping for in telling him the story.

She smiled, swinging her legs off him and moving toward the other end of the couch.

"Are you telling me your parents never had a life outside of you?"

Scratching the back of his head, Day thought about how to best answer that. "It's different for black people."

"Life?" She smirked.

"Yes."

Her face dropped and she seemed to reconsider whatever she'd been about to say.

"My mom got pregnant young, like my grandmother. They worked something like 6 jobs between themselves to make sure I had everything, and that I got my bachelors and masters."

"Where are they now?"

"Dead," Day said flatly, not looking at Beth. "Heart attacks."

"And your father?"

"Shot. Cross fire during a turf war."

Whatever lightheartedness has gone with the game and alcohol was replaced with the heavy weight of family and death.

Shaking her head, Beth pushed up from the couch. "Wanna go to bed and sleep like the dead?"

A small smile crossed his face, letting the pain of losing all the important people in his life ebb away for the moment.

"I thought you'd never ask."

***

"I'm about to throw your phone out the window," Beth heard Day grumble before the bed shifted and cold glass was pressed to her cheek.

Beth hissed at the contact even as a professional voice said, "Sorry to disturb you early in the morning, Ms. McNair, but I was wondering when you would have time today to come to the precinct and go over your statement."

"Huh?" Beth cracked an eye open and tried to locate the clock she remembered on the bedside table. The time read 6:49am and whoever was on the phone thought she would be cognizant before 10am on a Saturday? They were out of their minds. "Who's this?"

"Detective Daniels. We met yesterday."

The fog of sleep clouded pretty quickly after that, but Beth didn't make any moves to leave the bed. Not with Day's arm wrapped around her waist, his warm front to her back, and a sizable erection trying to part her panties. The call sucked, but there was still hope in salvaging her morning. Especially when she heard Day's breathing even out.

"Yeah," Beth said quietly, keeping her voice as low as possible. "I remember. Sorry, but I missed everything you said before that."

"Just asking when you'll have time to meet today."

"Well, I want to go to the hospital to see Simone, but aside from that I'm free."

"We're actually going to see Ms. Durand around 11am. Would you have time after that?"

"Sure," Beth said around a yawn. "I'll see you at the hospital around 12-ish."

"Great. We'll see you then."

The phone slid from Beth's ear as soon as the call ended and her eyes fluttered closed. Sleep was one deep breath away but her brain wasn't letting that happen. A new reality of her life wasn't morning cuddles with a sexy man in bed, it was calls from detectives about statements. Her new reality consisted of worrying if she had a job, visiting an ex-friend in the hospital, figuring out how to navigate the non-relationship relationship building between herself and Day and the other million things that weren't about to float from the alphabet soup of her brain without coffee.

"This sucks," Beth groaned, grinding her face into the pillow under her and trying not to wake the sleeping man behind her. Everything about this sucked except for Day and his adorable son; they were the only things keeping her from losing her mind. Without Day Beth was homeless. Flat out. She would need to move back with her parents if she got fired. And even if she didn't get fired and had to start looking for an apartment, it wasn't like unshared, rent-controlled, second story or higher, in a decent neighborhood, near subway line apartments grew on trees.

So yeah, shit sucked, but Day and Brian didn't.

They were the one spot of light in her otherwise bleak existence.

Dramatic much?

Pushing away all her negative thoughts and predictions about a future that may or may not be, Beth resolved to accomplish at least something. She might be talking to the detectives, worrying over her job, and staying clear of her ex, but that didn't mean she couldn't get off her ass and make a nutritious breakfast for the father and son she was mooching off of. It wasn't enough thanks, but at least it was something.

Might even meal prep dinner and lunch.

With the thought of a grocery store trip and meals on her mind, Beth tried to slip out of Day's arms.

And couldn't.

Gently but firmly, Beth tried to ease Day's heavy arm from around her only for the man to be a damn anaconda and pull her right back, pressed to the hard line of his body, while he planted his nose in her hairline.

"What are you doing?"

God that voice.

A sleep rough Day was dangerous to a girl's sensibilities. "I was trying to get up."

"Why?"

"I need to go to the store. Make breakfast. Start on lunch and dinner."

She felt his frown against her forehead. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I don't feel like I'm going to accomplish much today and I'd like an easy win."

It was another long moment before he finally responded. "Alright. Lemme go get Brian ready and we'll head out."

Beth turned to look over her shoulder. "That's okay. You guys should sleep. It won't take me long."

Day didn't look at her eyes, his gaze was firmly fixed over her shoulder and a quick glance down showed why. She'd popped out of her sleep tank. Before Beth could correct it, Day's hands were on her. But not in the way she wanted. Nope, the man just tugged her shirt over her nipple—her very hard nipple that was pointing straight at his fingers, practically demanding his touch—and looked back in her eyes.

"Is that really what you wanted to do?" Beth couldn't help asking the question just like she couldn't help the raised eyebrow or smirk.

"You said you wanna go shopping and fucking you into the mattress is going to make that impossible."

"You didn't answer my question."

Instead of answering at all, Day propped his head up on his fist and stared down at her. "I could have sworn when I put you to bed yesterday it was in the guest bedroom."

"

Pfft

. One," Beth started, ticking off her fingers. "You didn't

put me to bed

. You escorted me to my room and gave me some weakass Harlequin cheek kiss—" Day's brows flew up to his hairline "—and second, I got cold and lonely and then I remembered this warm, pillow-like creature in the next room that would be amazing to snuggle up to."

"So you didn't like the kiss—"

"I didn't say that."

"—and am I the pillow-like creature you're talking about?"

"Yes."

"Okay." He burst into surprised laughter before falling onto his back and pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's too early for whatever the hell you're doing."

Beth smiled and rolled to her side to wrap her arms around his still shaking form. Almost as if on instinct his arm curved around her and dragged Beth closer, practically on top of him.

After a minute, she couldn't help stating the obvious, "This is weird right?"

"Which part?"

"Us." She tilted her head to look up at him and gestured to their position: her leg thrown over his thigh, his hand resting on her knee, his arm wrapped tight around her, plastering her against his side and half on top of him. "I'm not complaining, just..."

Day shrugged. "You know I grew up with Shontell—"

"Shontell?"

"My... late wife."

"Oh."

"Yeah. We grew up together. Right across the hall from each other. We took sink baths together and shared a room during sleepovers up until puberty. But then that hit and I realized she was a

girl

."

Beth hummed her understanding, rubbing soothing circles into his pecs as Day spoke. There was pain mixed in with the memories. Happiness too. But just a wealth of sadness that Beth understood. It was good to remember, but didn't mean it hurt any less.

"It wasn't like she was just any girl. She was

my

girl," Day continued, fingers absently running through Beth's hair. "It just sort of clicked one day and I told her and the rest was history. But..." he paused, the silence weighted and gaining heaviness. "I always wondered if it wasn't just convenience and shared history. I loved my wife, don't get me wrong, but I don't know if it was the kind of love she needed. We made it work; we were good together, but..."

"I wanna get hit by a truck," Beth said quietly. "Something quick that I don't see coming. Cancer is long and torturous. For everyone. There are all these regrets and what ifs and decisions that never seemed important before but that are suddenly paramount.

"Asra, my sister-in-law, beat herself up. Survivors guilt or something. It was really bad for a while. She just kept trying to be my brother's wife after he died. His illness had become her life and she wasn't Asra anymore, she was Paul's widow."

Leaning up, Beth looked down at Day, trying to recall the words her therapist had used with her. "There's not a date that grief ends and you suddenly revert back to the person you were. It's an experience that forever changes you. It's a constant needle poking at you that you can ignore most of the time until it hits a nerve. Then that pain's back and so fucking acute you might as well've run yourself through with a serated blade."

"Is that how you feel?"

Beth leaned her head back down on his chest, absentmindedly running her fingers through the springy hair on his chest. "Sometimes. We were close. Paul was my hero, my champion, my number one fan. He called me on so much of my bullshit and encouraged me to do things I never thought I'd do. He's kind of the reason I'm here in New York. Not just his death, but knowing that after he died, I wasn't supposed to mourn him in a dark room." Beth let out a little laugh as she thought of the race her brother would have made if she'd given into the wellstorm of grief and just laid in bed and done nothing. It was that look that had motivated her to step up after he died. "He would've kicked my ass."

"Shontell said something similar when she was in the hospital," Day said, fingers gliding through Beth's hair, stopping every so often to massage her scalp. "She was just so strong. And it wasn't like a front, like she was doing it for my benefit or Brian's. Sometimes she was, but that had more to do with being exhausted from the treatments and meds. Most of the time her strength was a reflection of her character. It was just who she was, and death wasn't about to take that spirit.

"About a month before she passed, she gave me this calendar. It started from the next month—a week away at the time. Every day it has three things I was supposed to do: one for myself, one for Brian, and one for the two of us together. Some of them were silly, like eating a pint of ice cream and watching

Rocky

, but others were pointed. She'd booked us in to see a therapist who specialized in families who lost people to cancer. The calendar was filled out for a year. She said, 'I'm giving you a year to grieve. You'll think you want more—maybe forever—but honey, you're not going to look this good for much longer. A year, then find you someone.'"