Eight Years Earlier
“I can take these out to him,” Faith told her mother, grabbing a few trash bags. Even though their father could afford a professional lawn service, Denver was all in now. What initially started out as a punishment, was now a gift. Over the past two years, Denver had come to not only enjoy attending to their lawn but found peace in it. Peace was a commodity he’d rarely called his own, but when he looked at Faith, that was all he felt—peace.
“Don’t forget that glass of lemonade,” her mother said excitedly. “You know Denver loves my lemonade,” she bragged, smiling.
“Un huh, Mama,” she replied with a smirk-like smile.
If asked, that infamous lemonade was what snagged their father and the men with wandering eyes each time First Lady Valerie Valentine showed up. No one really knew what it all contained, which made it that much more intriguing as they all attempted to guess over the years. Her mother, however, would never confirm nor deny.
“And Faith likes giving him what he likes, too,” her sister Mercy whispered to Joy. Faith’s mocha colored skin flushed as she sucked her teeth. No one except her sisters knew she had a thing for Denver, and if she could keep it that way, she would. Besides, guys rarely approached the Valentine sisters. They weren’t a mega church just yet, but her father had done a wonderful job giving the church in Jonestown some nationwide visibility, especially after it had been passed down two generations on to him.
“What?” their mother asked, confused, looking over her shoulder.
“Nothing, Mama,” Mercy replied while Joy snickered, adding fuel to the fire.
Faith was pissed, clutching the kitchen towel as her nerves began to unravel. She looked forward to watching him mow the lawn. She would easily get lost as she sat perched in her bedroom window, gazing at him like the smitten teenage girl that she was. Every now and again, he’d catch her watching. Instead of making her feel embarrassed, he’d cast a wink her way, causing her to blush. So her mother sending her out there meant she didn’t have to steal a glance. She could watch him in all of his sweat and glory immediately in his presence.
Being preacher’s kids came with its own challenges, but the Valentine girls had done a great job covering for themselves, especially Mercy who hung around the church while Faith practiced for Sunday morning praise and worship on the piano. That secretly gave her extra time to grin in the boys’ faces at church too afraid to speak to her around their parents. That included Knight, one of Denver’s closest friends at church. He was quiet yet alluring as he usually sat off in the cut alone yet didn’t go unnoticed. His dark chocolate skin and menacing stare were a treat to see as Mercy got a sweet tooth prancing around him. Still, he wouldn’t bite.
“Well, go on now. The boy’s sweating, child. I already feel bad Theo barely pays the boy, even though he says he doesn’t want to be paid,” her mother said, nudging her on as she grabbed mittens out of the kitchen drawer. Faith grabbed the glass, feeling the lemonade spill due to her shaking hands. She could barely focus as she watched his firm abs as he lifted his shirt, wiping his face.
He’s beautiful, she thought to herself as he then grabbed the weed eater. When he roughly yanked on the starter chord and brought it to life, Faith’s breath hitched, causing the lemonade to spill even more.
“Dang it,” she grumbled as she made her way out to the wooden table in their backyard to place it down along with the garbage bags.
As Denver swiped the weed eater back and forth against the edge of the lawn with ease, Faith took a seat so she could indulge in his every movement. From the way he twitched his jaw to the way he stretched his back, she was enamored. There was nothing no one could say to make her think otherwise about the boy many whispered she should stay away from.
Raised by his grandmother, Denver had it rough, but one thing he and his younger sister, Brianna, had was love, a love Faith could see in his eyes whenever theirs connected. She never believed in love at first sight, but if it existed, it started with her and Denver.
Faith became so consumed with the peanut butter colored boy with the devilish, infectious smile and lips she wanted to feel on hers, she’d ignored the irritated visitor in the form of a wasp until it made its presence known.
“Argh!” she screamed, swatting at her leg as the wasp buzzed around. “It stung me!” she cried out. In an instant though, he was no more when Denver caught it with one hand that formed into a tight fist, killing it.
He cursed lowly, watching a few others buzz around the sunflowers, sunflowers he’d planted just months earlier because he knew they were her favorite.
“It-it stung me,” she repeated, her chest heaving up and down with misty eyes. When he saw them, he became angry. Dropping the weed eater, he shook the wasp out of his hand.
“I know, Faith. Fucking wasp,” he whispered as he leaned down to stare at the reddish bruised skin on her leg. Her eyes fluttered, matching the flutter she felt in her belly when he swooped her up and carried her inside.
Her already racing heart doubled in speed feeling the warmth and wetness of his skin, the strength of his arms. But what drew her in even more was the smell of the sun coupled with cologne. She didn’t know much about cologne, but whatever he wore was her favorite scent. Yes, his unique smell alone, she’d coined “the Denver”, a wood-scented fragrance that easily could send her to the moon each time she inhaled it.
At sixteen, Denver moved like a grown man, spoke like one too. It excited Faith, made her feel alive since he was the only boy that dared to even speak to her. Unlike other boys his age, Denver gave no fucks about who her father was or knowing she was untouched. In fact, he wanted his woman untouched and tucked away, reserved just for him.
“I need warm water and baking soda,” he demanded as her mother and sisters looked at them both confused as they headed their way. “Now,” he demanded, then apologized. He was frustrated as he felt her body trembling against his. “It’s going to be okay, Faith,” he assured her with dark, piercing eyes, eyes that studied her trembling lips. Lips he wanted to suck, lick, and pull on as he fought hard to stay focused, closing his eyes as he turned his head.
It wasn’t for long though; he felt the graze of her fingers against the back of his neck. When she did, he was in sensory overload, studying her heart-shaped lips and chinky, brown cedar eyes that made him misstep. He quickly steadied himself as she held on tighter, her face now in the crook of his neck.
“Shit, sorry,” he told her, trying to stay focused until he could get her inside. When his eyes traveled back down to her mouth, he silently begged her to tuck in her lips. If she didn’t, he feared he wouldn’t be able to contain himself, and truthfully, he didn’t want to. It was crazy how while speechless, Faith could get Denver to do anything she wanted or needed him to do.
“I’m in fucking trouble,” he said just above a whisper to himself as they approached the door.
“It’s okay,” he told her as she whimpered. She agreed, smiling while a hiccup escaped her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth.
“Never be sorry for being sweet. Wasp couldn’t help itself,” he said and smile as he stepped inside and lowered her into a chair her mother had pulled out and waiting.
“Oh my God. What happened?” her mother asked when she saw the bruise in tears.
“A freaking wasp sting. I need an ice pack too, please,” he replied, as he dropped to his knees. Thank God Faith was wearing a sundress to cover her legs, flowing just below her knees. He groaned, watching her rapidly blinking eyes when her mother handed her a napkin.
“Oh, honey, I feel awful,” she said, watching Faith sniffle before she blew her nose. “Mercy, don’t stand around. Get some ice and put it in a bag,” she said while Joy worked on getting the baking soda and water.
“How bad is it?’ she asked Denver as he examined her otherwise flawless skin short of the red area where the wasp had stung her. She was perfect in every way as his eyes traveled up her legs and torso before landing on her face. She was being a little fighter, pushing out a smile, he assumed not to disappoint him. He felt responsible though, wishing he’d never planted those flowers. It didn’t help she smelled like she’d been dipped in a pot of honey too, a smell that would forever be embedded in his brain and in his heart. Probably like the wasp that couldn’t wait to taste her too.
“Not too bad,” he said, feeling his nature swell as he cleared his throat. “I need to get rid of those flowers,” he announced roughly under his breath. “Where’s the ice, Mercy? Joy, that baking soda and water coming any time soon?” he barked, frustrated.
“Dear God,” her mother whispered, watching him attend to her child in such a loving manner. She fought back tears watching him softly blow on her leg, causing Faith’s breath to hitch once more as an adrenaline rush coursed throughout her body. Her mother knew that look and that reaction too, speechless when Mercy and Joy appeared.
“Mama, here’s the ice,” Mercy whispered, in tears herself while Joy stood by blinking back her own tears.
“Thank you, dear. Need us to do anything else?” her mother asked Denver.
“Naw,” he said. “Hold that ice, Mercy,” he instructed her, before whipping up a paste concoction of baking soda and warm water in the cup. Once he was satisfied with the outcome, he gently applied it to her leg with his fingers before rubbing it in slowly. Each time she winced from his touch, he fought hard not to groan.
“The ice is for swelling. I can see a little swelling now, but let me work this in just a little. That’s cool with you?” asked her, and Faith nodded.
Her mother and her sisters stood by in awe, but no longer because of the wasp bite. It was because of the budding romance that unfolded right before their eyes. He studied every inch of her leg, calf included, lifting it gently as his jaw twitched. He held back words that begged to be released, words ranging from anger since she was in pain to adoration because he loved her. Loved her just for being her, while trusting him at the same time. He wanted Faith, and not just her body. He wanted everything, including the air she breathed in that moment when she whispered his name.
“Yes, Faith?” he answered lowly, gently pressing the bag of ice against her leg he held. He was afraid to look up. He knew if he did, it would be clear that this was a boy willing to fight the world for her, even a gang of wasps outside doing what wasps do—stinging people who got in their way.
“I’m sorry I got bitten.”
“Don’t be sorry, girl. Stop tripping.” He laughed, casting a quick glance at her. “I told you. Just keep being you,” he reminded her. “I like the you that you are,” he added, a bit bold right in front of her mother as her sisters giggled. She blushed, chewing on her bottom lip as her heart leaped for joy. It was then she knew that he liked her too, maybe even loved her. Not just playing with her whenever he winked when she sat in her window.
“Well, I guess this time it wasn’t my lemonade that got the boy,” her mother said to herself, chuckling as she swiped the tears that threatened to fall.
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