lovergrl

Cloying—the one word he’d use to describe her. 

Rich. Decadent. Too much of a good thing. But there was no way he’d start complaining about it right now. 

Fingers indented the flesh of her ass and thighs while nails pierced his shoulders, tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

They were supposed to hate each other. They were supposed to despise one another. She was his twin’s annoying best friend. He, her best friend’s uptight older brother who couldn’t help but turn his nose up at her short shorts and crop tops. But she wore them for him—just as he wore his low-hanging sweatpants for her. 

When she’d come over to the twin’s shared apartment, they’d parade around for each other: Annie in her booty shorts and tight shirts, Smoke in sweatpants and a tank, a chain if he was feeling particularly interested in her attention. He’d come out of his room “for a bottle of water” or “to ask about plans for later,” but he was really just trying to get a look at Annie’s long legs. And she’d roll her eyes at him and make smart ass comments just to rile him up, but she was always looking at him a little too hard, too. 

They hated each other for no good reason. For simply being around. For taking up space. For speaking and smelling divine and looking good enough to eat even though they knew they couldn’t have each other. 

And now—despite all that—they were tangled up in Smoke’s sheets, and Annie was sitting thick and pretty on his palate like a good meal when you’ve been starved for ages. 

“Smoke,” the young woman whined, clawing at his upper body. He had her thighs pried open and her legs thrown over his shoulders, and every time she attempted to catch her breath, he was halting her action by dousing her in more pleasure. She squirmed in his hold, but her efforts were in vain. The young man held on too tight, but even though Annie was struggling against him, she didn’t want to go too far anyway. He felt too good, fucking her with his tongue, sucking on her clit with those plush lips. When he practically began to swallow her arousal from the source, she shook against the bed aggressively. And just as she felt the wave begin to wash over her exhausted, needy body, the man stopped. 

A huff escaped his lips—gruff, angry, and resentful.

“I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” Smoke growled, mind reeling from the delicious sound of her moaning his name and the too sweet taste of her on his tongue. He sat back on his haunches, but all that did was give him a better view of her bare body. The man rolled his eyes, growled once more from the sweat-slicked sight.

“Well, I can’t stand yo’ ass neither,” Annie shouted, propping herself up to get a better look at him.

They wore matching scowls, eyes full of contempt. Beneath the surface, their bodies were buzzing for a release that seemed too distant now, but Annie’s thighs were wet with her arousal—a puddle in the sheets—and Smoke’s length was throbbing with every glimpse he allowed himself to take of her.

The woman’s scowl turned to a wicked grin. And one glance at the time had her mind made up.

“Come on, Smokey,” Annie teased, crawling toward where Smoke had decided to land—at the edge of the bed with his back toward her. “You obviously need to let some steam off,” she hummed, hooking her arms around his neck from behind, “and Stack won’t be back from that li’l date for a minute. Stop bein’ pussy.”

She started kissing up the back of his neck, heavy, thick kisses that had his eyes fluttering shut. But her words were like ice, chilling his system and bringing that contempt back to the surface. He growled once—just once—then he grabbed her and swung her into position on his lap.

“I ain’t no pussy,” he condemned, smacking her ass and watching the way she tried her best not to flinched. He watched her grind her teeth, her hatred of him being just as strong as his for her. “And I don’ told you about callin’ me that name.”

“What? Smokey,” she threw in question, already knowing the answer. He’d said it time and time again, but that was what she used to successfully piss him off every time—she wasn’t about to stop now. Watching the man closely, she couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw tightened at the sound of the nickname again, and at that, she set her hips in motion.

Her wet arousal rocked against his—slow, teasing, angry. She did nothing to remove the sly grin on her lips. She let it melt into her skin and stay planted there as she indulged in the way the man’s eyes were rolling back from the feel of her.

Smoke gritted his teeth at the feeling of Annie’s clit sliding along his dick, and he did his best not to let the pleasure show, but she had moans escaping his lips and tears pricking in his eyes before he could stop it. His hands held her in place atop him, attempting to command the situation. But annoyingly enough, Annie was too good at maintaining control—over him and the task at hand.

“I hate seein’ yo’ stupid fuckin’ face when I come over here,” the woman huffed, rising up on her feet. She sank down onto his length, shuddering at the stretch, chuckling when he groaned. “You must don’t ever go out ‘cause you always here,” she added, breath quickening as her body began to move at a steady pace. Her words were laced with hatred, but beneath the anger, resided that small part of her that anticipated seeing him every time she came over, the part that chose her outfits according to what would turn his head the most, the part that was ecstatic to finally have him buried inside her and at her mercy.

Smoke shifted their position. He moved back up the bed, rested his body, planted his feet, lifted her slightly. He laughed at the surprised look that took over her face, but he immediately turned cold once more.

“You the one that’s always over here in my face,” he argued, pulling her in close. His nails pierced the flesh of her ass punishingly, and with his regaining of control, he forced her to meet his thrusts as he pounded into her from below. “You stay up in my house, bothering me. But I’m the problem?” Each word bit. Each statement true. But Annie wasn’t ready to back down.

“Yeah,” she choked, fuming in a unique mix of hate and lust. “Yeah, you the fuckin’ problem.”

Her hips snapped harsh. Her hands pressed into his shoulders as she rode him silly, refusing to let him win. And he wasn’t letting up either.

The air of the room turned dark and dense as the two fought to make the other crumble. They wouldn’t allow themselves to be the first to break—the first to cum, to show how much they desired the other—but someone had to be the one.

Meeting each other thrust for thrust, their breaths mingled, their tongues fought, their bodies began to shudder viciously. Annie’s teeth bit into the meat of Smoke’s bottom lip, and his palms claimed her ass with an ease neither of them would talk about outside of this room.

“You finna cum,” the man barked, waiting for an answer in the form of moans and trembling. He smacked her ass, fucked her with aggression.

“Hell naw,” Annie hurled back, queuing up her insults. “Nigga, this shit weak. But I know this pussy ‘bout to have you ruined.”

And ruined he was—right alongside Annie, too.

For the next few weeks, they poked at each other, prodded, towed that line between disgust and desire. When they saw each other, their eyes flashed with hatred, and when Stack turned his back, drifted too far away, they were on each other hot. They couldn’t deny the need. They couldn’t stuff down the craving.

That’s why they were back at it again.

Smoke’s bed.

Stack long gone.

Annie with her face down—ass up.

“You need this shit like a greedy li’l slut,” the man taunted, stroking her deep. Her arch became more pronounced as her arms slid forward and her mouth fell open. She couldn’t protest because when he texted her and said Stack ‘went out,’ she immediately jumped from her comfortable position in bed, slid her shoes on, and drove her ass over to that apartment. She was greedy—yes. A slut—absolutely.

Her hips worked to bring them both closer to the edge, falling back into his strokes because she was a pro at this shit now. They’d done it plenty of times: always here in his bed where they could be caught at any moment. She knew how he liked it, knew that when his mouth got slick he was close to burying himself deep in her.

“Smoke,” Annie slurred, words weak from all the wails he’d pulled from her tonight. Her hand wrapped around his wrist in an effort to seek out connection, and as much as he despised her, he let her have it. Their fingers intertwined, bodies creating a delicious rhythm. And they let go—together.

As they winded down from the effects of their orgasms, their hands remained connected. Annie’s thumb stroked the side of Smoke’s hand, working diligently to pull sharp breaths from him. He couldn’t push away that feeling she gave him: like he was going to eventually lose his life in her but that it would be worth it in the end. He shifted his position, turned on his side to watch her, but Annie was already looking at him.

“I gotta go,” the young woman spoke matter-of-factly. She dragged her body away from his, and as she sat of the edge of his bed, he watched her stretch. Her arms rose above her head, pulling her worn out muscles gently. She shifted to the side and he could make out the curve of her breast—delicate and hefty at the same time. It made his mouth fall open, but he soon gained the woman’s attention. “The fuck you lookin’ at,” Annie hurled in his direction. She began to pull her clothes back on, starting with her undergarments, but she couldn’t find her shirt anywhere.

“What we doin’ for real, Anne,” Smoke leveled, standing up on wobbling feet.

“We fuckin’,” she answered with a roll of her neck. “Duh.”

“This ain’t just fuckin’, and you know that,” he continued. He stepped in her direction, beginning to help in the pursuit of her long lost shirt. “If this is just fuckin’ then why you don’t wanna tell my brother?”

“‘Cause I don’t want Stack in all my damn business,” Annie turned quick. She shot through him with her eyes, but he couldn’t hardly take anything serious as she stood before him with her upper half nearly bare: her bright pink bra was the only thing covering her chest.

“But you tell Stack everything,” Smoke threw out—completely confused. She and his twin had been close for a long while now, and there was nothing the other didn’t know—except for this. He had also never been much of a liar, but since Annie insisted this remain a secret, he listened.

But now, the man was conflicted by his feelings.

He couldn’t fucking stand Annie, but looking at her big, brown eyes and having held her hand so dearly earlier, he was experiencing a new, rawer emotion.

He watched her continue to scrounge for her shirt as a way to not look him in the eye, but that didn’t mean he was done with his line of questioning.

“What you want from this? From me and you,” Smoke whispered. His voice was low, tone dripping in a seriousness that seemed to be plaguing him right now. Annie turned completely in his direction, her search for the shirt fully thwarted now. She crossed her arms under her chest and leaned against the dresser on the opposite side of the room, sighing with a strangled breath that seemed to not want to come out.

When she looked at him, her eyes were big and round, wet with emotion.

“It started as me wantin’ to prove something,” she shrugged, eyes stuck on his. “I wanted to prove that I was more than just a nuisance, that I could make you feel something other than your hate for me, that I could dive headfirst into this and walk away unscathed.” She shook her head, diverted her gaze. “And now,” she continued, words catching on the way out, “now I feel silly for lettin’ this continue for so long, knowin’ what you do to me.”

“Anne—” the man tried, but she kept speaking, kept spiraling.

“I’m just so stupid! Of course this was just sex for you,” Annie pointed in his direction before smoothing her hair down away from her face. Her body seemed to be vibrating, and Smoke’s fingers trembled with a need to reach out for her, but he knew that would only worsen the situation. “And now I’ve just made it weird because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check. And I can’t find my damn shirt no where!”

She searched frantically—high and low—but she came up empty every time. And as he watched her, Smoke stood there stunned. He didn’t have a clue what to say. Partially because he was still using that excuse of hating her. Partially because he was still oscillating between his difficult emotions. All he thought about now seemed to be Annie. Annie’s annoying voice. Annie’s annoying laugh. Annie’s annoyingly pretty smile. He continued to find himself trapped in their moments together, how easily they came together in his bed, how they could communicate with such ease at times before getting caught up in what they thought they were supposed to want.

He hated her. But her adored her. And he definitely understood what she meant about feeling silly.

When he noticed the tears falling from her eyes, Smoke finally let himself step forward. He reached for her in an attempt to calm her down, but the sound of keys in the front door halted that effort.

“Oh my God,” Annie breathed heavily, moving to cower in a corner. She had no shirt on, was crying like a fool, and was in her best friend’s brother’s room after fucking him behind the other man’s back. She didn’t know what to do, and one look at Smoke showed that he didn’t have a clue either. They remained quiet—didn’t dare make a sound first—but Stack’s words rang out loud.

“Aye yo’,” he laughed into the near quiet apartment. “Annie, where you at, girl?! I saw yo’ car in the lot!”

Their hearts sank to their feet, the inevitable finally coming face to face with them. Annie shook in her spot, terrified of the consequences of lying to the person closest to her, and as frightened as Smoke was as well, he forced himself to put on a brave face for her.

As Stack kept shouting her name, mumbling how she must be in the bathroom or something, the older twin tossed her one of his shirts.

In the living room, however, Stack was leaning back against the couch as a flash of color gained his attention. A bright baby blue crop top sat on the other side of the room, and without picking it up, he already knew who it belonged to.

He stopped speaking all together—because there had to be an explanation, because he was just not understanding what the situation was. His brother was here too; He had to be. Stack had seen his car parked in its usual spot, but maybe that hadn’t been his best friend’s vehicle at all. She had parked too far away, on the opposite end of the lot tucked into a corner. But he’d worked on her car enough times to recognize the unique dents and scratches.

And now, he was in his home, calling her name to no answer—from either of them. But there had to be an explanation, right?

Down the hall, a bedroom door, croaked open.

Two sets of feet set in motion. Slow. Trembling. Guilty.

Tears flooded one person’s eyes. Fear flooded another’s.

But there was no going back now.

Stack’s eyes bounced between the pair. From Smoke to Annie. From the shirt the woman wore to the one she’d obviously forgotten was in the living room all along. Confusion etched into his features. It was a strange type of understanding because of course he knew what this meant—Annie was wearing his brother’s shirt and they were both looking guilty as fuck—but how had this all happened? They hated each other. They had hated each other from the moment they first met.

The younger twin shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips. Then he laughed—disbelief shining through.

“Man y’all fucked up,” he cackled, tossing his head back. Standing to his feet, the young man continued to laugh and joke and admonish, and the embarrassed pair watched with wide eyes. He wouldn’t stop or let up, and they just had to stand there and take it. “This is what happens when you pretend like you hate somebody,” he continued, hands rising in the air. “You end up fuckin’ ‘cause ain’t shit else to do wit’ all that pent up energy.”

He turned toward the hallway, still shaking his head in disbelief, laughing to keep himself together. When he reached his bedroom door, he took one look at them. How they stood at an awkward distance from each other. How it seemed to be something else going on that he didn’t want to get into right now. Seriousness took control of his features, returning him to the moment he first realized something wasn’t right. With their backs to him, he sighed, and clearing his throat, he turned his doorknob and spoke once more before departing.

“All I got to say is y’all better get y’all shit together and not make me choose between y’all. For real though.”

The room fell quiet. With Stack gone, the pair were left to reckon with what they were doing, with the fact that their dirt had seen the light of day. Smoke, eyes picking up the glare from Annie’s long lost shirt, leaned forward to grab it. And as his fingers connected with the fabric, he reveled in the softness, the roughness, the unmistakable Annie-ness of the feel.

“Here you go,” he extended his hand. His volume was low, afraid to rustle the quiet air, and the woman thanked him in a tone just as soft.

Annie watched his eyes carefully, trying to find his lingering disdain for her, but there was none.

“I appreciate it,” she offered her thanks again, much more confident this time, and as a soft grin filled Smoke’s lips, Annie allowed hers to match.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~3,200

a/n: i hope y'all enjoyedddd and thank you for readinggg

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

The summer before junior year felt endless. It was hot enough for the air to still stick to your skin long after the sun went down. Everybody knew who was having people over. Sometimes it was a cousin home from college. Sometimes a classmate whose mama was working the night shift. Music played way too loud in somebody's backyard while the neighborhood kids wandered in and out the gate like they lived there.

This one sat behind a small brick house a few streets over from the Moores’. Cars lined both sides of the curb. Music rattled the chain-link fence while people crowded around folding tables covered in chips, soda, beer bottles, and half-melted ice. Smoke from the little charcoal grill drifted thick through the yard along with the smell of lighter fluid and somebody’s cheap cologne.

Stack stood near the speakers arguing with two boys over what song to play next.

“Nah, y’all killin’ the vibe.”

“You always say that, bruh.”

“Cause y’all music trash.”

An older boy near the grill yelled for Stack to bring more charcoal and he finally wandered off still talking shit the entire way.

Pearline rolled her eyes from her lawn chair nearby. “Stack, shut up.”

He grinned immediately. “You so fine.”

“Boy.”

Annie laughed softly beside her, knees tucked up against the chair while she sipped from a warm Sprite Smoke handed her twenty minutes earlier. Her curls were pulled back loosely, thick around the edges from the heat and humidity. The silver hoops in her ears glinted in the afternoon sun.

Across the yard, Smoke leaned against the fence talking to one of the older boys from the neighborhood. Black tee. Long shorts. White Air Forces already dirty around the edges from summer. One hand hooked inside his pocket while the other held a sweating cup low near his thigh.

Jada watched him from across the yard.

Annie noticed first. “Mhm,” she muttered, nudging Pearline.

Pearline glanced over. “What?”

Annie tilted her head slightly toward the drinks table.

Pearline’s eyes moved automatically.

Jada stood near the coolers laughing loudly at something another girl said, honey-brown curls bouncing around her shoulders while her attention kept drifting back toward Smoke every few seconds. She was pretty. Everyone thought so. Curvy already, tube top, and tiny shorts showing off thick thighs every boy talked about when she walked passed. 

Except Smoke—he barely looked over there at all. Jada was pretty. He mostly remembered she laughed loud.

That should’ve made Annie feel better. Instead something still irritated her.

Pearline caught the look on her face instantly. “Girl…”

“I ain’t sayin’ shit.”

“You don’t gotta.”

Annie rolled her eyes hard and looked away first.

Across the yard Stack suddenly yelled—“ANNIE.”

He pointed dramatically toward the folding table. “Bring me a bag of chips.”

“You got two hands.”

“Please! You love me.”

“I actually don’t.”

Stack clutched his chest while everybody around him laughed.

Smoke looked over then and immediately found Annie. Every time. Didn’t matter how many people stood around her either. His eyes always landed there first. The look on his face changed too. Softer. Like seeing her settled something in him automatically.

Pearline saw that part and snorted quietly beside her. “Girl that boy obsessed with you.”

Annie tried not to smile. Failed a little anyway. She stood and headed toward the chips table near the drinks before Stack could start yelling again.

Pearline grabbed her cup and followed behind slower, already watching Jada out the corner of her eye.

Halfway there, Smoke peeled away from the fence and met Annie without saying much.

“You ate?”

Annie blinked at him. “Yes, Elijah.”

“You lyin’.”

She laughed immediately. “I had chips.”

“That ain’t food.”

He grabbed a paper plate off the table and started piling food onto it before she could argue again.

Annie leaned lightly against the table watching him move around the grill. “Why you keep makin’ me plates?”

Smoke shrugged once without looking up. “Cause you need to eat.”

“I eat.”

“Not enough.”

Annie rolled her eyes softly. “Smoke, I promise the world not gon’ end if I miss one plate.”

That finally made him look at her. His eyes moved over her once before settling back on her face again.

“Nah,” he said quietly. “But I might.”

Annie’s breath caught before she could stop it.

And right on cue—Stack gagged loud as hell behind them. “Mane, if y’all don’t leave each other alone for five minutes—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Smoke muttered.

Everybody near them laughed.

Smoke ignored all of it. That was the thing. He ignored everything when Annie stood close enough.

Jada came over to where they were a minute later with Mary and two other girls trailing behind her, all loud laughs and glossy lips beneath the fading summer light.

Pearline stood up straighter immediately. “This bitch…,” she muttered under her breath.

Mary waved dramatically the second she spotted Stack. “There go my man.”

Pearline rolled her eyes so hard Annie almost laughed. “Your man?” Pearline muttered. “Girl please. Stack flirt wit’ everybody.”

“Jealousy ugly on you, Pearl,” Mary called back instantly.

Pearline looked up slow and smiled. “Bitch, I can’t be jealous of community dick.”

Stack barked out laughing.

Mary’s mouth dropped open. “Community dick?!”

Pearline shrugged. “You ain’t special, ho.”

Stack barked out laughing before Mary walked over smacking his arm. Jada drifted easily toward the grill instead.

“Damn,” she said, looking down at the plate in Smoke’s hand before glancing toward her friends. “Smoke don’t do nothin’ but feed Annie.”

Stack barked out laughing instantly. “Cause that’s his girl.”

Smoke frowned slightly. “What?”

Jada smiled. “Nothin’.” But her eyes slid briefly toward Annie before looking back at Stack.

“I’m serious,” She continued. “He act like she the only girl out here.”

Stack opened his mouth immediately. “Cause to him she is.”

Smoke finally handed Annie her plate. “Move before Stack fat ass steal yo’ food.”

“Wow nigga,” Stack said. “You rude.”

Annie was focused very hard on balancing the paper plate in her hands even while warmth kept crawling up the back of her neck. Beside her, Pearline sucked her teeth quietly into her cup.

Jada laughed softly and reached for Smoke’s cup sitting on the table, taking a sip without asking.

Annie noticed immediately. So did Pearline.

Annie’s fingers tightened slightly beneath the paper plate, before she could stop herself, her body was leaning forward a fraction towards Jada. Pearline caught the reaction instantly, one hand touching Annie’s wrist beneath the excuse of reaching for a chip. Subtle. Quick enough nobody else seemed to notice.

Except Jada.

Smoke barely reacted—mostly because he was already looking at Annie again. “You want somethin’ else to drink?”

Jada lowered the cup slowly.

Annie saw that too, and suddenly the heat outside felt heavier than before. “I’m good,” she answered quietly.

“I been tellin’ y’all Smoke don’t talk to nobody but Annie,” Jada said, laughing lightly as she nudged Stack with her shoulder. “It’s weird.”

Mary snorted softly beside Stack, already watching the whole interaction unfold. “One hundred percent true,” Mary jumped in immediately.

Smoke looked genuinely confused. “I talk to y’all.”

Stack barked out laughing instantly. “Nigga no you don’t.”

Mary laughed harder. “You barely even looked over here.”

Annie looked away immediately before Smoke could catch her laughing.

Pearline covered her mouth instantly trying not to laugh because there it was. Exactly what she’d been saying. Smoke really did miss half the shit girls tried to do around him.

Jada looked thrown off for maybe half a second before recovering smoothly. “I’m sayin’ you act different with Annie.”

Smoke frowned like he genuinely didn’t understand the point. “That’s my girl.”

Simple. Certain.

Mary made a loud fake throwing-up noise while Stack nearly folded over laughing beside her.

Annie felt warmth crawl straight up her neck.

Jada laughed too, but this time it sounded tighter. Her eyes met Annie’s.

A small smile pulled at Annie’s mouth before she could stop it. Bitch.

Jada’s smile stayed in place.

But barely.

Present Day

The memory faded slowly beneath the low hum of Smoke’s truck engine.

Sunlight flashed through the windshield in uneven patterns as he drove, one hand loose against the steering wheel while warm air moved steadily through the cracked window beside him. His other hand tapped once against his thigh before going still again.

Then the truck speakers crackled softly.

Incoming call. Jada.

Her name spread bright across the dashboard. Smoke stared at it for a long second. Long enough for the phone to ring twice.

Three times. Then he hit ignore. Silence settled back inside the truck immediately afterward. Ever since Annie walked back into town, his thoughts hadn’t stayed where he put them. Eight years gone—and somehow seeing her again still felt too close to touching a live wire.

Aunt Cheryl’s house already smelled like seasoning and heat by the time Annie and Pearline finished getting dressed.

Music drifted through nearly every room. Beyoncé’s II Hands II Heaven played low from the Bluetooth speaker sitting on the guest bathroom counter. Outside, somewhere deep in the backyard, a blues guitar rolled through the open windows mixed with the sound of laughter, dominoes slamming against folding tables, and Aunt Cheryl’s husband Lewis loudly arguing with somebody over whether Bobby Womack was better than Marvin Gaye.

Pearline’s aunt—her mama Maxine’s younger sister, had always been the kind of woman whose house never really belonged to just her. Doors stayed unlocked more than they should. People were always sleeping over. Some needed a hot meal. Someone always got fussed at and fed in the same breath. Growing up, Annie had spent enough weekends there that people stopped asking whose child she was and started assuming she belonged to Cheryl.

Which, in a lot of ways, she had. 

Annie loved her mother. She did, but Aunt Cheryl had become the adult she ran to for things she didn’t know how to explain at home. The conversations that felt too embarrassing, too confusing, too complicated to say out loud to her own mama somehow came out easier sitting at Cheryl’s kitchen counter while she cut onions, folded laundry or fried fish. Crushes. Friend drama. College fears. Questions she couldn’t even ask properly yet.

Aunt Cheryl never pushed. She just listened. Then eventually she’d say something annoyingly simple that made Annie realize she already knew the answer.

Pearline’s family became Annie’s family so gradually she never noticed it happening. Holidays. Sleepovers. Last-minute rides. Summer afternoons. Somewhere along the way Aunt Cheryl stopped introducing her as Pearline’s friend and started introducing her as one of hers.

Right on cue her voice cut through the house. “AND WHO ATE MY DAMN DEVILED EGGS?”

“There go Cheryl,” Pearline muttered calmly.

“And turn that sad shit down!” another older voice yelled from somewhere outside.

Pearline rolled her eyes immediately. “…and there go mama.”

Annie laughed despite herself.

The whole house felt alive. They ended up staying the night at Cheryl’s after grocery shopping the evening before. Pearline originally planned to drop the food off and leave, but Cheryl took one look at the amount of prep still sitting untouched across the kitchen counters and shut that shit down immediately.

“Leave if you want to,” she’d said, snapping green beans into a bowl without looking up. “But yo’ mama gon’ talk so much shit about you tomorrow I might join in.”

Pearline groaned while Annie laughed.

So they stayed. Annie even ended up helping too despite Pearline repeatedly telling her to sit down because the cookout was technically for her. Cheryl ignored all of that. “Girl please,” she said, sliding a cutting board toward Annie. “You back home now. Slice them onions.”

And she did. Standing barefoot in Cheryl’s kitchen at nearly midnight while old school R&B drifted low through the house and women arguing lovingly over recipes felt strangely familiar. Like being dropped back into another version of herself she hadn’t touched in years.

By one in the morning, half the food was prepped. Uncle Lewis was asleep in the recliner in the family room with the TV still blasting low. Annie and Pearline ended up stretched across a queen size bed in the guest bedroom laughing quietly in the dark like they were teenagers again. For a few hours, it almost felt like no time had passed at all.

Currently, coolers crowded the hallway near the front door packed with beer, juice, bottled water, soda, and foil pans waiting to be carried outside. Younger cousins ran through the living room screaming before another auntie immediately yelled at them to stop running in the damn house. The kitchen smelled like barbecue sauce, fried fish, onions, and sweet baked beans while women moved around each other shoulder to shoulder arguing over seasoning.

Upstairs inside the guest bedroom, Annie had changed clothes four times.

Pearline sat stretched across the bed eating hot chips while watching the latest outfit reveal with growing amusement.

First it had been denim shorts and a tank top. Too casual. Then a black sundress. Too obvious. Then jeans. Absolutely not. Now half the room looked like a tornado touched down inside it while Annie stood in front of the mirror quietly questioning every decision she’d made since coming back home.

Pearline watched her for a little while before reaching toward the tequila bottle sitting beside Annie’s makeup bag.

“Aight,” she muttered. “Come here.”

Annie looked over immediately. “What?”

“You nervous as hell.”

“Not.”

Pearline snorted, already pouring two shots into plastic cups. “Sure.”

Annie laughed softly despite herself before walking over. The cups clinked together lightly.

“To Annie finally outside again,” Pearline said.

“That’s…dramatic.”

“And is.”

Annie laughed again before both of them tipped the shots back. The tequila burned all the way down, warm and sharp enough to make Annie squeeze her eyes shut briefly afterward.

“Shiiit.”

Pearline coughed once immediately after. “See? That’s why I don’t do dark liquor.”

“You literally bought it.”

“And?”

Annie shook her head laughing while Pearline shoved the open chip bag toward her.

“Eat somethin’.”

“I’m fine.”

“Aight. You gon’ be sweatin’ tequila and fucked up in Cheryl backyard if you don’t eat somethin’.”

“I won't.”

Pearline pointed at her immediately. “That’s exactly what drunk people say.”

Annie rolled her eyes smiling despite herself before turning back toward the mirror again.

After another ten minutes of changing her mind twice more, Annie finally settled on the striped halter dress mostly because Pearline threatened to physically pick something for her if she kept standing in front of the mirror sighing.

The dress was a soft knit material striped in deep blue, green, white, and pale lavender, the colors bright enough to feel summery without trying too hard. The halter neckline dipped low across her chest while the open back left most of her skin bare except for the tie sitting neatly behind her neck. Unfortunately or fortunately, the dress hugged her body tighter than she remembered when she bought it. The material curved around her hips, her thighs, the softness of her stomach. Her breasts sat high beneath the neckline, enough cleavage showing to make her immediately fold her arms the second she caught herself staring too long in the mirror.

Pearline crunched another chip slowly. “Girl.”

Annie didn’t look away from the mirror.  “What?”

“You know what.”

“It’s hot outside.”

“Mhm.”

“It is.”

Pearline’s mouth twitched.  “And apparently you tryna make Elijah Moore lose consciousness beside Cheryl’s potato salad.”

Annie groaned instantly. “Please shut up.”

“I’m serious.” Pearline pointed dramatically with another chip. “That man already looked halfway dead in Stack apartment yesterday.”

Annie narrowed her eyes finally turning away from the mirror. “Oh, so we not gon’ talk about YOU?”

Pearline blinked innocently. “What about me?”

Annie looked her up and down slowly.

Pearline’s red-and-white striped maxi dress clung to every curve she had, the soft material hugging her hips and thighs while the slit climbed just high enough along one leg to show smooth brown skin every time she moved. The open back exposed nearly her entire spine beneath her sleek ponytail, and somehow the dress still looked casual enough for a cookout despite the fact it was absolutely ruining the peace.

Annie folded her arms. “You look like summertime temptation.”

Pearline barked out laughing instantly. “But you got the nerve to talk about me?”

“This?” Pearline looked down at herself pretending to be confused. “Girl this comfortable.”

“Comfortable where?” Annie stared. “At a cookout or on somebody's son's prayer list?”

Pearline nearly choked on her chips laughing.

Annie shook her head. “You absolutely tryna make Elias act stupid outside.”

“Chile…,” Pearline continued, waving another chip dramatically, “Elias been stupid since tenth grade. That ain’t got nothin’ to do wit’ me.”

Annie laughed softly despite herself.

Pearline pointed immediately. “There it is again.”

“What?”

“That little happy-ass laugh.”

Annie’s face fell instantly. “Line…”

“I’m just sayin’.” Pearline’s expression softened slightly afterward. “I ain’t seen you like this in a long time.”

Annie’s face dropped instantly. Somehow that felt worse. She turned back toward the mirror too quickly afterward pretending to adjust the side of the dress while heat crawled slowly up her neck.

Pearline watched her quietly. That tiny hopeful look on Annie’s face hit harder than expected, because yesterday had been the first time Pearline saw her genuinely excited about something in a very long time. Hopeful. Pearline hated what she knew might ruin it. Her eyes flicked briefly toward her phone laying beside her on the comforter. Towards the memory of Smoke sitting beside Jada inside that restaurant booth. Towards Stack saying—He not bringin’ her. Pearline wanted to believe that.

Still…

Annie sighed. “I don’t even know why I care this much.”

Pearline knew why. Both of them did. But she let Annie keep pretending.

Annie sat near the foot of the bed smoothing nervous hands over the dress before glancing casually toward the open bedroom door. “You said Elijah came by already this mornin’?”

Pearline looked up. “Uh huh. Him and Uncle Lewis set the speakers up outside.”

Annie nodded slowly like that information didn’t matter nearly as much as it actually did. 

“Oh.”

Pearline watched her for a little too long.

Annie reached over stealing one of her chips casually. “He stay long?”

There it was.

Pearline smiled immediately. “You fishin’.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “I’m askin’ a question.”

“Yeah, okay,” Pearline’s grin widened.

Annie threw the chip at her. Pearline laughed harder dodging it while Annie shook her head trying unsuccessfully not to smile too.

“So…is he?” Annie asked a second later, quieter this time.

Pearline’s laughter softened slightly. “He said he was comin’ back.”

Annie looked down too fast afterward, like she didn’t want her face caught reacting. 

Pearline watched the small smile trying to pull at Annie’s mouth before it disappeared again.

There it was again. Soft. Careful. Still alive somehow after all these years, and suddenly Pearline’s chest tightened, because now Jada pushed back into the front of her mind immediately afterward. Laughing. Too comfortable. Too familiar.

Pearline swallowed slowly. “Annie…”

Annie looked up immediately. “Hm?”

Pearline hesitated. She almost said it. Almost told her everything. That she saw Smoke with Jada. That nobody really knew what was going on between them. She didn’t want Annie walking outside blind, but then she smiled again. Tiny…nervous.

Suddenly Pearline couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bring herself to throw Jada between this fragile little piece of happiness Annie somehow found again. So instead she stood tossing the chip bag aside.

“Nothin’,” she muttered instead, standing too fast afterward. “Come on before Aunt Cheryl start cussin’ everybody out for standin’ around useless.”

Annie looked at her strangely for a second but stood anyway, smoothing her hands down the front of the dress one last time before glancing toward the mirror again.

The smile appeared again. Quick. Almost shy.

Hope looked strange on her now. Older. More careful. But still there. The realization unsettled her immediately. She had not come back to Mississippi expecting this. Didn’t come back expecting her stomach to flip every time Elijah looked at her. Or expect one awkward afternoon inside Stack’s apartment to crack open something she spent years forcing shut.

Outside, a car horn blared. Then another. Music swelled louder beneath a burst of laughter somewhere near the backyard.

Pearline groaned instantly. “That better not be Stack blowin’ that fuckin’ horn.”

As if summoned, her phone rang immediately afterward.

STACK.

Pearline answered, already irritated. “What?”

“Bring y’all asses outside,” Stack shouted loudly over music and voices in the background. “Everybody arrivin’.”

Annie’s stomach flipped hard enough to make her regret every sip of tequila she’d had while getting dressed.

Now it was real.

The second Annie stepped outside, the sound hit her first.

Music layered over more music. A blues record played somewhere deeper in the backyard while Frankie Beverly and Maze floated from another speaker closer to the patio. Laughter cracked through the humid air in bursts. Dominoes slammed hard enough against tables to sound competitive. People yelled for more ice. Kids tore across the grass shrieking while an older cousin threatened to spray them with the water hose if they knocked over another chair.

Aunt Cheryl’s property stretched wide behind the house, big enough for generations to spread out across it comfortably. Cars lined both sides of the road outside the gate already, more pulling up every few minutes. Folding tables covered in aluminum trays sat beneath two huge pecan trees while smoke rolled thick from the grill pits farther back near the fence line.

The smell nearly overwhelmed her immediately—charcoal, barbecue sauce, hot grease, sweet liquor, and fresh-cut grass baking beneath the Mississippi heat. Underneath all of it was that familiar Delta smell she never figured out how to describe properly after moving away. Warm earth. Humidity. River air somewhere nearby.

Home.

Her chest tightened unexpectedly.

“ANNIE BABY!”

Before she could process anything else, one of Pearline’s older cousins, Geneva, was already crossing the yard toward her.

Geneva had always occupied that strange space growing up where she never quite felt like a cousin. Five years older than Annie and Pearline, she’d been old enough to seem impossibly cool but young enough to still let them into her world. She was the cousin whose room they wanted to sit in when they were kids, whose clothes they wanted to borrow before they were old enough, who knew everybody and always had the gossip before anybody else. She gave them the best advice, defended them when adults got too loud, and slipped easily between big sister, best friend, and professional instigator depending on the day. If Geneva was going somewhere, they wanted to go too.

She looked exactly the same now—just grown into herself.

A striped maxi dress moved around her legs as she crossed the yard, the fabric light enough to catch every bit of warm Mississippi air. The colors softened against her caramel skin—cream with narrow lines of rust, black, and muted gold running vertically from neckline to hem. Thin straps framed her shoulders while the neckline dipped low. Big tassel earrings brushed her neck every time she moved, and a woven straw bag hung from one arm despite the fact she absolutely did not need a purse for a backyard cookout. Long straight hair fell over one shoulder and sunglasses rested on top of her head like she had somewhere more important to be later.

She reached Annie and immediately grabbed her face with both hands. “Lawd, look at my Annie.”

Before Annie could answer Geneva pulled her into a tight hug that smelled faintly of perfume, body oil, and summer heat before leaning back again to inspect her dramatically. “Bitchhh…you done got finer sittin’ up there in North Carolina.”

Pearline barked out laughing immediately. “‘Neva.”

Geneva ignored her completely, looking Annie up and down. “Nah, for real—look at all this ass.”

“GENEVA.”

“What?” She shrugged. “I got eyes.”

Annie laughed so hard she almost snorted, and just like that, some of the tightness in her chest loosened. For a second. Then others started calling her name. Then another.

“Oh shit—Annie?!” 

“When you get back?”

“Girl, look at you!”

Suddenly she was being pulled into hugs from every direction. More relatives. Old classmates. Women she hadn’t seen since before high school kissing her cheek and telling her she looked beautiful.  Questions came rapid-fire before she could even answer the last one.

How long you staying?You still in Charlotte?Yo’ mama good?You remember so-and-so?You workin’?

Annie smiled through all of it. Laughed through all of it. Answered each question. But underneath every conversation, every hug, every joke—she was looking for him. It happened automatically. Every car or truck door slamming outside the gate made her glance up. Every deep laugh somewhere across the yard tightened something low in her stomach before she realized it belonged to somebody else. Every time people moved around near the grills, her eyes moved there instinctively.

Pearline noticed every single time. “You look so nervous, friend,” Pearline muttered low beside her while accepting a beer her cousin handed her.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Right.”

Annie ignored her. Or tried to.

Outside, the heat wrapped around her immediately, making the halter dress cling softer against her skin the longer she stood there. Her long braids brushed warm against the open skin of her back every time she moved, humidity already settling along the base of her neck while sweat gathered slowly between her breasts beneath the neckline. Still somehow she became even more aware of her body because of him. Even without seeing him yet.

The music changed suddenly. Blues faded lower beneath newer bass while voices rose louder near the grill pits. Then a familiar voice carried across the yard.

“Move, nigga. Damn.”

Laughter erupted near the driveway immediately afterward. Annie froze. Her stomach dropped so fast it almost hurt because she knew that voice. Knew it down to muscle memory.

Annie turned before she could stop herself. Dark oversized shirt hanging loose over his frame, the deep brown fabric softening against the width of his shoulders and chest. Tattoos disappeared beneath the loose sleeves. Black shorts hung low against narrow hips, white and black Nike Dunks scuffing lightly against the pavement. A black cap sat low over his eyes, single gold chain glinting faintly against his throat.

“Smoke!” Stack exclaimed as he turned around from where he stood near the grill pit. “Bout time yo’ muthafuckin ass got here!”

“There he go,” a classmate named Mike laughed, already moving toward him.

Smoke lifted one hand in acknowledgment before pulling Stack into a quick dap and shoulder bump that looked practiced from years of repetition. Mike stepped in after that. Then another. Hands grabbing at him. Voices overlapping. Smoke laughed at something another said, head dipping slightly while one of his homeboys slapped his shoulder.

Laughter carried through the music.

Yesterday, inside Stack’s apartment, he felt almost unreal. Too close. Too quiet. Too heavy with history. But standing outside now beneath fading sunlight and backyard music with everybody surrounding him—Elijah looked dangerous again. Familiar. Beautiful. Like every version of the boy she used to love had grown all the way into a man.

Maybe it was the tequila talking, the heat, or eight years refusing to stay buried. But for one terrifying moment, Annie forgot how to breathe because Elijah Moore looked up and found her immediately. Like some part of him had already known exactly where she was.

Smoke forgot what Mike was saying halfway through the sentence. Something about a fight that happened outside Club Fusion last month. Cornbread laughed loud as hell beside him, while Isoo kept interrupting every five seconds adding details nobody asked for. Stack stood near the grill pit drinking beer and talking shit like always while Bo argued with Uncle Lewis over whether the ribs needed more sauce. The kind of evening Smoke usually moved through without thinking too hard. Then something shifted. Like pressure changing in the air. His eyes lifted automatically and found Annie. And everything in him suddenly went very still.

She stood near the patio beside Pearline surrounded by women talking over each other while music rolled through the yard behind them. The dress she had on wrapped around her body soft and close, pulling against curves he absolutely did not remember being that dangerous.

Jesus Christ.

Smoke’s jaw flexed once. Because yesterday inside Stack’s apartment had been too sudden. Too crowded with history and shock and confusion for him to really look at her the way he wanted to. But now? He could see everything.

The long braids falling down her back. The neckline dipping low enough to show the soft swell of her breasts beneath the summer light. Hips fuller than they used to be. Thicker through the thighs too. Ass sitting heavy beneath that dress in a way that made something low in his stomach pull tight immediately. 

Grown.

Annie had always been beautiful. But this? This felt unfair.

“And then this nigga gon’ say—” Cornbread stopped mid-sentence laughing at his own story while everybody around Smoke reacted.

Smoke barely heard any of it, but Annie looked up and there it was again. That feeling. Like the rest of the yard dimmed slightly every time their eyes locked. Want. Yearning. Recognition. All tangled together so tight it almost made his chest ache.

She looked away first. Not by much. Just enough to smile at Grace and Therise as they walked over toward her carrying babies, diaper bags and chaos with them. Smoke’s attention followed automatically. 

Grace balanced little Lisa against her hip while Therise waddled carefully beside her, one hand rubbing absentmindedly across her stomach while her boys ran circles around her legs screaming at each other. Annie’s entire face changed when she saw them, brightening instantly. Grace pulled her into a one-armed hug while Lisa immediately started reaching for Annie with grabby little hands.

“Look at her!” Grace laughed. “This girl doesn’t go to just anybody.”

Annie laughed softly, taking Lisa against her hip without hesitation. Natural. Easy. Like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Something inside Smoke twisted painfully, because for one stupid dangerous second—he saw it. Saw Annie standing in a kitchen holding his baby while music played low in another room. Saw little brown babies with her eyes and his attitude running through a backyard somewhere. Saw years he never let himself think too hard about. The image hit hard enough to steal the air from his lungs.

Stack noticed immediately. His eyes slid toward Smoke before following his line of sight across the yard. Then back again. Stack cleared his throat loudly. Sharp enough to snap Smoke partly out of his head.

“You hear this nigga, bruh?” Stack asked suddenly, shoving a beer into Bo’s chest hard enough to spill some. “Talkin’ bout he could beat me one-on-one right now.”

Bo frowned immediately. “Man, when I say that?”

But before Stack could keep the distraction going—Isoo looked up.

“Hold up.”

Everybody went still automatically because Isoo always talked the loudest right before saying something stupid.

“Where Jada at?”

Stack’s entire body stiffened instantly. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered fast.

Too late.

Isoo blinked. “What?”

Stack cut his eyes sharply toward Annie across the yard before lowering his voice. “Nigga damn.”

Smoke didn’t say anything immediately. Instead he reached into his pocket. Pulled out his cigarettes. Tapped one loose. Stuck it between his lips. The lighter clicked once. Twice. Then caught. Smoke took a slow drag while the group went quiet around him. His jaw ticked once as smoke rolled out low through his nose.

Jada heard him talking to Uncle Lewis a few days earlier about borrowing speakers. She started asking questions—

“Y’all havin’ somethin’?”

“Who all gonna be there?”

Small smile.

“Sounds fun.”

Smoke didn’t think much of it. At the time, it was just a cookout. People came. People brought people. That was normal. So when she casually mentioned coming too…he never corrected the assumption.

Then yesterday happened.

He opened Stack’s apartment door and Annie was standing there.

By the time Smoke realized she was staying—realized she’d be at the cookout, something selfish inside him tilted immediately. Not because he was doing anything wrong or he owed Annie anything. But suddenly the idea of Jada coming with him to the cookout and standing beside him all day felt wrong in a way he didn’t wanna examine too hard.

He hated himself a little for how quick that feeling came.

Then this morning Jada left a voicemail.  Soft. Apologetic. 

“Hey…I won’t be able to come to the cookout. Danielle called out sick and I gotta cover a showing.” She laughed. “Bad timing.”

Smoke remembered listening. Waiting to feel disappointed. Instead his chest loosened. That bothered him more than anything. 

Another drag. Then finally—“She had to work.” His voice came out flat. Smoke flicked ash into the grass. “She ain’t comin’.”

Bo looked at Cornbread. Cornbread looked at Stack. Stack looked at Smoke.

Everybody knew.

Only Isoo stayed oblivious. His eyes drifted toward the patio. His eyes widened dramatically. “Aw hell nah.”

Smoke already felt irritation crawling up his spine.

“Bruh, I know that ain’t fine ass Annie over there.”

Stack closed his eyes briefly like he already knew where this was going.

“She back back?” Isoo asked. “Like for real?”

Nobody answered fast enough. Which was apparently answer enough for him. Isoo straightened immediately, adjusting his shirt. “Shiiit then. Lemme go say what’s up.”

Cornbread muttered, “Here this nigga go.”

Isoo started moving.  Actually moving. Straight towards Annie and suddenly Smoke understood very clearly how easy it would be to hit somebody with a folding chair.

The thought arrived calm. Instant. Violent enough to make his jaw tighten hard. Annie wasn’t his anymore. He knew that. Understood it. But watching another man walk toward her still felt wrong enough to make something ugly rise low in his chest anyway.

Stack saw it happen in real time. Saw Smoke’s posture change. Saw his grip tighten slightly around the cigarette. 

“Aye,” Stack said, quickly stepping sideways into Smoke’s path just enough to interrupt whatever terrible decision was forming. “Relax.”

Smoke’s eyes stayed fixed on the back of Isoo’s head.

“He grown,” Stack continued lower. “Don’t start actin’ crazy in Cheryl yard.”

Mike snorted immediately beside them. “Too late. That nigga already look homicidal.”

Cornbread started laughing into his cup.

But Smoke didn’t laugh. Didn’t move either, because across the yard Annie looked up just as Isoo reached her. Isoo hugged Annie. Too long. Then said something and Annie laughed. Easy. Warm. The way she laughed with everybody. Smoke felt something pull low in his chest anyway. He watched another a little longer. Took one last drag. Then held the cigarette away from himself and exhaled.

“Somebody pour me somethin’.”

Stack looked over immediately.

Bo’s mouth started twitching.

Cornbread snorted into his cup.

Smoke kept watching Annie. “Strong.”

Stack blinked once. Looked toward Isoo. Then back at Smoke. His eyebrows lifted slowly. 

“…Oh niggaaaa.”

“ANNIE?”

The voice pulled her attention away from Lisa tugging at one of her braids. She turned and immediately laughed. She recognized him instantly.

Isaac Carter aka Isoo.

Older now, broader. Still handsome in that easy unfair way he’d always been. Dark skin glowing beneath the late afternoon sun, close-cut beard filling in where a baby face used to be, smile still stupidly nice. Tall too. Taller than she remembered. Athletic without trying too hard. He was always laughing, always flirting, and somehow there was always at least one girl claiming she was done with him before ending up right back beside him the next weekend.

But somehow—never hers. 

He’d always been sweet to Annie. Never flirty…just easy to be around. Annie remembered he carried her backpack once in sixth grade because she had too many books. By freshman year he’d gotten taller and louder and started football with Smoke and Stack. She remembered him telling some boy to leave her alone at a game once before wandering off like it wasn’t a big deal.

Pretty. Friendly. Community-approved. Terrible for relationships. Her mama loved him. Smoke tolerated him. Which honestly should’ve been her first clue. Isoo reached her and immediately pulled her into a hug. Long enough to feel familiar. Not long enough to feel weird.

She laughed against his shoulder. “Well damn.”

He pulled back looking at her fully. “Look at you.”

Annie rolled her eyes immediately. “Boy bye.”

“No seriously.” He looked offended. “You been in North Carolina eatin’ money?”

She laughed. “Hi to you too.”

Isoo smiled bigger. “Nah for real though.” His eyes moved over her once. Respectful. Surprised. Then landed back on her face. “You good?”

Something softened in her chest. She nodded. “Yeah.”

He smiled, then immediately started talking asking questions, and catching her up on old classmates who moved where, who got married and even who got arrested. Stories. People. Names.

Annie laughed, answered and nodded, but she wasn’t really listening. Her eyes kept drifting back towards Smoke.

Smoke leaned near Stack now. Cup in one hand, cigarette in the other. He talked less than everybody else. Watching more, then he tipped the cup back. One swallow.

Finished.

Her stomach tightened immediately and her eyes narrowed.That seemed…intentional.

He lowered the cup and looked directly at her.

Annie blinked and looked away back to Isoo. “…and remember Mary used to swear Stack wanted her?”

Annie nodded automatically. “Yes, yes I do.”

Isoo kept talking.  “…and Sarita got four kids now.”

“Uh huh.”

“…and you still owe me for them chips.”

She blinked. “Wait, what?”

Isoo laughed immediately. “See. You not listenin’.”

Her eyes widened. “No I am!”

His smile softened. His eyes drifted past her. He smirked slightly.  “Oh.”

Annie frowned. “What?”

Isoo laughed under his breath. “Nothin’.”

She turned automatically and saw movement, Pearline, Grace, Therise, little Lisa, and the boys, all slowly migrating toward the grill pits where Stack, Smoke, and the other men were.

Annie immediately straightened. There it was—her out. She looked back at Isoo, smiled and pointed. “Oh they movin’.”

Isoo looked over then back at her. His smile widened immediately. “Aw damn.”

Annie laughed. “What?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nothin’.” But his eyes flicked once—past her. Towards Smoke, then back again.

Suddenly Annie had the strange feeling she wasn’t the only person pretending not to notice things today.

Stack noticed Pearline before she noticed him, though he told himself he was only looking because Grace and Therise had started making their way toward the grill pit with the kids. That was almost believable for a minute. Grace had Lisa balanced on one hip, the baby’s fat hand reaching for every dangling necklace and plastic cup she passed, while Therise moved slower beside her, heavily pregnant and already threatening her boys through clenched teeth whenever they got too close to the food tables. But then Pearline stepped around a folding chair and Stack’s attention went straight to her. 

The red-and-white striped dress hugged her body in a way that made him forget whatever Cornbread had been saying about ribs, the slit opening with every other step to show the smooth brown line of her leg. Her ponytail brushed the open skin of her back, and the sunlight caught her hoops each time she laughed at something Grace said. 

Stack stared too long. He knew he had because Pearline caught him before she even reached the group, her eyes narrowing with that familiar warning that usually meant he was already in trouble.

“What?” she asked once she got close enough to be heard over the music. 

Stack took a sip from his beer and tried to look innocent. “Nothin’.” 

Pearline folded her arms, which only made the dress worse on him. “That was a look.” 

Grace immediately made a noise under her breath, delighted to have caught something. Stack ignored her and let his eyes move over Pearline one more time, slower than he meant to, before he shrugged. 

“You look good. That’s all.” 

Pearline’s face changed for barely a second, the smallest softening around her mouth before she rolled her eyes to cover it. 

“You drunk?” 

“Not yet,” he said, and that pulled a laugh out of her despite herself.

The laugh didn’t last long. Pearline’s gaze drifted past his shoulder towards Annie and Isoo, then towards Smoke, and the lightness left her face almost immediately. 

Stack saw it happen and sighed through his nose, already knowing where her mind had gone. She stepped closer so the music and voices around them swallowed the conversation. 

“She really ain’t comin’?” 

Stack didn’t ask who. He glanced at Smoke, who had been pretending to listen to the men for the last several minutes while watching Annie every chance he got, then looked back at Pearline. 

“She ain’t comin’.” 

Pearline looked away, but her exhale didn’t sound relieved enough. “I should tell Annie.” 

Stack frowned. “Tell her what?” 

The look she gave him answered before she did. 

Stack followed Pearline’s gaze toward Annie, who was still smiling at Isoo and pretending she wasn’t checking Smoke’s location every few breaths. 

“You worried for no reason,” Stack said quietly.

Pearline folded her arms tighter. “She deserves to know.” 

Stack studied her face, then shook his head. “If them two stop bein’ scary and actually talk, Jada gon’ become a memory real quick.” 

Pearline looked at him long enough for her expression to soften, but the guilt didn’t leave her face completely.  “…I hope you right.” 

Stack hated how small she sounded when she said it, so he reached out and hooked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side before she could decide whether she wanted comfort or not. 

Pearline shoved at his chest immediately, but there was no force behind it. “Stack.” 

He only held on tighter, which was exactly when Grace saw them.

“Oooooh,” Grace said, loud enough to drag Bo’s attention from his cup and Cornbread’s from the grill. Therise smiled immediately, one hand on her stomach rubbing it in circles. 

“Look at the lovebirds,” Grace sang, pointing like she had discovered something scandalous instead of two people who had been circling each other since high school. 

Pearline groaned and tried harder to push Stack away while he grinned beside her. 

Bo nodded like he was witnessing history. “You finally wore her down, huh?” 

Pearline gasped. “Excuse me?” 

Stack, because he had no sense of self-preservation, nodded solemnly. “Persistence.” 

She shoved him again, and this time he actually laughed. 

Before Pearline could cuss him out properly, Aunt Cheryl’s voice cut across the backyard loud enough to make several conversations stop at once. 

“AIGHT! FOOD IS READY! OLD FOLKS FIRST, THEN KIDS, THEN EVERYBODY ELSE’S GREEDY ASSES!” 

The yard rearranged itself immediately. Chairs scraped across grass, kids ran toward the tables, aunties started directing traffic, and Cornbread stood up with an enthusiasm that made Therise stare at him in disgust. 

“Boys,” he called, and both of his sons appeared like he had summoned them. 

He pointed at himself proudly. “That’s us.” 

The crowd moved in that strange, ordinary way people always did once food got announced. Conversations broke apart mid-story. Somebody’s aunt called for kids that pretended not to hear. People started drifting toward the tables in loose groups with paper plates already in hand while others migrated toward shade and folding chairs to claim seats before the older folks took the good ones.

Pearline noticed Annie.

She looked up and caught her standing a few yards away with Isoo still beside her. Grace had already moved off toward the food with Bo and Lisa while Therise followed after Cornbread and the boys, one hand rubbing her stomach while fussing at her youngest to stop running. Mike had disappeared toward a group of women near the fence and somebody else called Isoo’s name from across the yard.

Pearline watched the moment happen in real time. Isoo looked toward whoever called him. Annie looked toward the grill. Isoo said something. Annie laughed politely. Then they split. Isoo peeled off into another conversation without much thought and Annie kept walking.

Stack followed Pearline’s line of sight and immediately understood.

Smoke hadn’t moved, but his attention already had.

Stack looked between them once before leaning slightly toward Pearline. “Oh.”

Pearline folded her arms. “…yeah.”

Annie slowed near the grill pit.

Smoke looked up. Nobody had orchestrated it or moved out the way on purpose. But somehow when everything settled—kids, plates, conversations, chairs—there wasn’t anybody left standing between them.

Stack looked over at Pearline. Pearline looked at him. Neither said anything. Stack smiled first. Quiet.

“Told you.”

Smoke looked at her first. Annie looked up a heartbeat later. The backyard stayed loud around them, all music and laughter and children whining for juice, but the space between them seemed to quiet anyway.

Annie smiled first, too quick and nervous, her fingers brushing one of her braids behind her ear. 

Smoke cleared his throat like the simplest word required effort.  “…hey.” 

Her smile softened.  “Hi.” 

The silence after that stretched just long enough for everybody close enough to notice and pretend they weren’t watching. 

Smoke’s eyes moved over her once, brief and controlled, but not brief enough.  “You look nice,” he said, voice lower than it had been with anybody else. 

Annie blinked, surprised by the directness, then looked at him with a warmth that made Stack glance away out of respect for what felt like an intimate moment between them.  “Thank you, so do you.”

For a moment neither of them moved. Then Smoke leaned in for a hug, careful in a way that made the gesture hurt more than it should have. His hand touched the bare skin of her back for less than a second before he seemed to remember himself and pulled away. Annie stepped back too quickly, smoothing her dress even though nothing had moved out of place. 

Smoke looked toward the grill. Annie looked toward the tables. 

Stack looked at Pearline, and Pearline looked right back at him. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both understood the same thing— 

If Smoke and Annie were going to survive the rest of this cookout, everybody else needed to get out of the way.

As they moved toward the food tables, the crowd gradually absorbed and rearranged around them in the familiar rhythm family gatherings always settled into once food got announced. 

An auntie passed by balancing a stack of paper plates against her stomach while still carrying on a conversation over her shoulder. Children threaded between folding chairs until their mother finally caught one by the arm and redirected him toward the drinks cooler. The buffet stretched beneath two long folding tables pushed end to end and covered in white plastic tablecloths already wrinkled from heat and elbows. 

Aluminum pans ran nearly the entire length of it, some covered in foil folded back halfway, others already opened and steaming into the humid air. Ribs sat dark and glossy beneath sauce collecting in the corners of the tray. Fried catfish rested in paper towel-lined pans beside golden chicken wings dusted with seasoning. Hot dogs rolled against each other near hamburgers wrapped loosely in foil to keep warm. Baked beans glistened thick with brown sugar and pieces of smoked meat, while macaroni and cheese sat heavy and golden around the edges where it had baked too long in the best way. Someone brought green beans cooked down soft with onions and turkey necks. And corn that sat shining looking like sunlight slathered in butter. 

The potato salad disappeared the fastest.

A pan of deviled eggs already looked picked over. Coolers lined the ground underneath, packed with bottled water, canned soda, wine coolers, beer, Capri Suns, and ice melting faster than people could replace it.

Annie found herself walking beside Smoke simply because everybody else had drifted off somewhere and neither of them seemed interested in making a thing out of separating.

The heat had settled differently now that the sun was lowering. It still sat heavy against her skin, but the sharpness had worn off and left everything softer around the edges. Her braids brushed against her back every time she moved, and she became hyper aware of things she hadn’t meant to notice.

Smoke still shortened his pace slightly whenever people crowded too close. He still moved to the outside of pathways without thinking. When one of Cornbread’s boys nearly collided with her carrying a dripping popsicle, Smoke placed a light hand at the center of her back and guided her around him before continuing forward. He didn’t seem aware he’d done it.

Uncle Lewis passed carrying another folding table under one arm and slowed long enough to nod toward Smoke.

“Smoke, appreciate you bringin’ them speakers and tables over.”

Smoke shrugged without looking up. “Ain’t nothin’.”

Lewis laughed and kept moving. “Easy for you to say. You got more room out there than all of us.”

Smoke shook his head once but didn’t answer and Lewis kept walking.

Annie watched him go before looking over.

“…more room?”

Smoke glanced at her. “At my house.”

She looked at him and waited for the rest of the sentence. When none came, she frowned slightly. “Your house?”

His expression switched immediately into confusion.

“…yeah.”

She stared at him long enough that he finally looked over fully. “What?”

Her eyebrows lifted, “you got a house?”

Now he looked confused that she was confused. Assuming she knew already. “Yeah.”

She looked at him harder. “What you mean ‘yeah’?”

His shoulders moved lightly. “I been there a few years.” Then after a second— “Built it.”

Her steps slowed enough for him to notice, just enough for something in his expression to soften as he looked over at her again.

She stared for another second. “You built it?”

He nodded once.

Her mouth opened slightly.“Oh my God.”

Smoke frowned. “What?”

She looked at him again, then laughed quietly. “You said that.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “Said what?”

She smiled and looked toward the food line ahead of them, but she wasn’t really seeing it anymore. The memory came back whole in the strange way old things sometimes did when one detail unlocked another. It had been junior year. Football season. Everybody sitting outside Mike’s house after practice because nobody wanted to go home yet. Stack had been arguing loudly about something nobody cared about and Smoke had been sitting back quieter than everybody else. Mike asked what they wanted to do when they got older and everybody gave normal answers first. But not Smoke.

She looked back at him. “You said if you ever had enough money you wanted your own place.”

His face stayed still.

She kept walking. “You said you wanted a house nobody could tell you to leave.”

His eyes stayed on her now.

She smiled. “You wanted land too.” Her smile widened slightly. “You said enough land that if you wanted to walk outside in your drawers and yell at people, nobody could stop you.”

That got an actual laugh out of him.

She noticed immediately. Then she continued. “You said you wanted a porch.”

Her voice softened naturally as more of it came back. “You said you wanted somewhere that felt yours.”

Smoke looked at her for a long moment before speaking. 

“…you remember that?”

The question surprised her enough that she looked at him fully.

She smiled. “Yeah.” Then she shrugged lightly. “I remember stuff people tell me.” Her eyes moved away briefly before returning. “Especially people I care about.”

She heard herself as soon as she said it. Her expression changed before she could stop it. Not because she regretted saying it. More because she realized she hadn’t filtered herself before speaking.

Smoke looked at her. It wasn’t the polite kind of looking people do while waiting for their turn to talk. He looked at her in a way that made her suddenly aware of how many things she still remembered that she had never meant to keep. Not birthdays or milestones or dramatic moments. She remembered conversations. Things said in passing. Dreams he admitted before they became real. The version of him that still existed before life hardened around them.

The feeling settled strangely in her chest.

Before either of them could sit inside it too long, a cousin farther back the buffet line shouted asking whether they planned on eating or standing there flirting all damn day while everybody else starved.

Everyone in the vicinity laughed immediately.

Annie smiled and looked away.

Smoke shook his head and stepped forward reaching for the plates and silverware, handing Annie hers first.

Annie grabbed rice first, then baked beans, one rib, and macaroni before lowering the spoon.

Smoke looked down at her plate. “That’s all?”

She looked over. “What?”

His eyes stayed on the food. “That ain’t enough..”

Before she could answer, he reached over and took the plate from her hands with a familiarity that surprised both of them. He added another rib, another spoonful of macaroni and baked beans, then a piece of chicken before handing it back.

Annie laughed. “Elijah.”

His hand paused for a second after she said his name. Then he nodded once. “Aight, aight.”

He didn’t remove anything.

She looked down at the plate, then back at him. Her smile stayed.

Together they moved down the line while someone behind them accused Cornbread of taking too many deviled eggs while Aunt Cheryl threatened to start assigning portions if people didn’t stop acting greedy.

The line moved slower than it looked from far away. Every plate became a conversation. A family friend wanted to know who made the potato salad. Another was trying to negotiate for corner pieces of macaroni before Aunt Cheryl caught them digging. An uncle argued loudly that people always forget the hot sauce until another aunt pointed at the bottle directly in front of him and called him an “old senile ass.”

By the time Annie and Smoke reached the end of the buffet, the noise had settled into that familiar cookout rhythm where nobody stayed in one place long but somehow everybody still knew where everybody else was.

Smoke took a step aside to let a man squeeze past carrying three overloaded plates and looked around while Annie adjusted her grip on hers. Every table seemed occupied. Not full exactly—there were open seats scattered around, but occupied in the way family gatherings always worked where every chair belonged to someone else whether they were sitting in it or not. Kids had abandoned half-eaten plates to run through the yard. Older people spread purses and keys across tables like territory markers. A guest had even turned a cooler into a seat. Another was eating standing up beside the fence.

Without saying anything, Smoke angled toward one of the folding tables beneath the pecan trees.

Annie followed automatically.

The table sat just far enough from the speakers that conversation didn’t require yelling but close enough that the music still carried. Empty paper plates and sweating drink cans crowded one end where people had clearly already eaten and moved on. Two chairs sat open.

Smoke reached the table first and pulled one out with his foot before sitting in the other.

The movement was small. Easy. So easy she almost missed it, but she didn’t. Her chest tightened unexpectedly. Not because he pulled out her chair. He didn’t. It was the assumption of it. The same quiet way he used to make room for her without asking.

She adjusted her dress beneath her legs before settling into the folding chair. Annie picked up her fork.

Smoke looked at her, looked at the plate, and then back up. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

She blinked. “What?”

Something flickered across his face—just enough.

She stared at him for another second. Then immediately laughed. “Oh my Go—I mean, forgive me Jesus.” She shook her head smiling. “Sorry.” She put her fork back down.

He watched her for a second before reaching across the table and taking one of her hands. Natural, like he’d done it yesterday instead of years ago.

His hand was warm. Calloused. Her breath caught for reasons she chose not to examine.

Smoke lowered his head slightly.

“Lord, thank You for this food. Thank You for bringin’ everybody together and lettin’ us see another day. Bless the hands that prepared it. Watch over everybody here and everybody we still waitin’ on. Keep us grateful for what You give and open to receive what You send.”

His thumb brushed once lightly against the side of her hand. Then— “And let Aunt Cheryl stop threatenin’ people over them damn deviled eggs.”

Annie laughed instantly.

Around them Aunt Cheryl yelled—“I HEARD THAT.”

Smoke smiled faintly, then finished quietly. “Amen.”

“Amen.”

He let go of her hand. Too fast. Annie looked at her hand before looking back at him. Her smile softened. “You still do that.”

Smoke frowned. “Do what?”

She looked down at her plate. “Pray before you eat.”

He shrugged. “You know who raised me.”

Annie smiled. No. That wasn’t it. His mama did raise him, but Smoke had always prayed. Quietly. Consistently. Even back then. She realized she remembered that too.

Smoke unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap before immediately reaching for the hot sauce.

Annie watched.

He caught her looking. “What?”

She smiled. “Nothin’.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

She looked down at her plate. Then up at him again. “You still put hot sauce on everything.”

Smoke looked at the bottle in his hand, then shrugged. “Food be needin’ help.”

She laughed. His mouth twitched. That surprised her more than it should have.

For a while they ate in silence. The kind of silence that would’ve felt uncomfortable with anybody else, somehow didn’t here. Around them people moved in waves—some yelling for more napkins. Children screamed somewhere near the water hose. Latimore had turned into GloRilla and half the older crowd immediately started complaining. Smoke ate slowly. Methodically. Annie realized she remembered that too.

She looked down at her own plate, and then reached for her fork.

Smoke looked over. “That all you eatin’?”

She looked up. His eyes were already on her plate again. She laughed. “You already fixed my plate, Elijah.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You eat around stuff.”

Her hand paused. “What?”

He nodded toward the plate. “You ain’t touch the beans.”

She blinked. Then looked down. He was right.Her fork had worked around the baked beans completely.

She stared. Then looked back at him.  “…how you know that?”

Smoke looked confused. “You always did that.”

She laughed softly and shook her head.

That one got her. The fact he said it like it was obvious. Like eight years wasn’t enough time to forget she hated baked beans touching other food.

She picked up her fork again. “You remember weird stuff.”

He shrugged. “I remember regular stuff.”

Something about that landed heavier than she expected. She took another bite before smiling. 

“You still do that.”

His eyes lifted. “Do what?”

She nodded toward his plate. “Eat like somebody gon’ grade you on it.”

One side of his mouth moved. “What that mean?”

She laughed softly. “You eat real careful.”

His eyes dropped briefly to his plate. “That’s normal.”

She smiled. “No. Stack eat normal.”

Smoke glanced over automatically.

Stack stood near the grill eating the way he did everything else—too fast, talking too much, and one distracted moment away from ruining his shirt.

Smoke looked back. “…aight.”

That made her laugh harder. His mouth moved again into an almost smile. She leaned back in her chair and looked around.

The yard felt different sitting down. Slower. The sunlight filtering through the pecan trees had softened now, turning everything warmer. Smoke from the grill drifted lazily overhead. Lisa ran by holding a juice pouch bigger than her arm while Grace chased behind her. Therise sat nearby rubbing her stomach while Cornbread argued with one of his boys about eating vegetables.

Annie looked back at Smoke. “You really built it?” 

He looked up.

“The house.”

His expression softened slightly. “Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah.”

She rested her elbow lightly against the table. “How?”

He looked at her. Then looked out across the yard, like he had to decide where to start.

She realized she wanted to hear all of it. Not the short version people gave at reunions or the highlights. She wanted the real version. 

The one she would’ve gotten if she never left.

Smoke realized halfway through explaining it that he was talking more than he usually did.

At first he answered the way he answered everybody else when they asked about work. Short version. Practical version. He stabbed at his red velvet cake while he talked and kept his eyes mostly on his plate.

“Started doin’ framing after high school.”

Annie looked up.

He kept going. “One of Uncle Lewis’ friends needed people. Started residential first. Learned enough to move around.”

She nodded once, listening.

Smoke kept eating. “Then commercial work. Then started doin’ jobs myself.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How old were you?”

He thought about it. “Twenty-two? Twenty-three.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “That young?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t feel young.”

She smiled a little at that.

He noticed. Then kept going.

Somewhere between another bite of food and folks across the yard yelling about cheating at dominoes, he realized he stopped giving the short version.

He told her about working in summer heat until his clothes stuck to him by noon. About learning measurements by messing things up first. About figuring out pretty quickly he liked being outside more than behind a desk. He told her how one house became two and then somehow there were people working under him before he ever felt ready for that part.

He expected her to eventually stop listening. People usually did. They asked questions because they thought houses sounded impressive, then lost interest halfway through answers.

Annie didn’t. She kept asking strange questions. Questions nobody asked. “What’s your favorite part?”

Smoke looked up. “What?”

She shrugged and took a bite of her peach cobbler. “When you build.”

He stared at her, nobody ever asked that. He thought about it. Then answered honestly. “When it stop lookin’ like work.”

She smiled. “What that mean?”

He looked out toward the yard automatically. Trying to explain. “When you first start, it's just dirt.”

She watched him.

Then he continued. “Then wood and walls. Then eventually you standin’ in somethin’ that ain’t exist six months ago.”

She nodded immediately, like she understood.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

She smiled. “You always liked that part.”

Smoke looked at her.

Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. She blinked. “What?”

He stared.

“What?”

His voice came quieter. “How you know that?”

She looked confused, then looked down and laughed. Her shoulders lifted. “You used to draw houses.”

His eyebrows pulled together.

She kept talking. “Back of notebooks.”

His chest started tightening just enough to make breathing feel different.

She looked embarrassed suddenly. “I remember weird stuff.”

Smoke looked at her. Then shook his head. “Nah.”

She looked up.

His mouth moved slightly. “You remember regular stuff.”

Something changed in her face after that, something smaller than sadness. More careful. She looked down at her plate for a second before taking another bite.

He looked away first.

The yard kept moving around them.

Cornbread was chasing one of his boys holding a rib in each hand. The music somehow got louder. Aunt Cheryl yelled at people to throw their plates away. Little Lisa was crying somewhere and Grace sounded one second from laughing and losing patience at the same time.

Smoke looked back at Annie. She was eating slower now. She always did. Then he realized something. He’d been talking almost the entire time.

He frowned slightly. “What about you?”

She looked up.

He nodded once. “What you been doin’?”

Her expression changed immediately. He recognized that too. The small pause before she answered, like she was deciding what version to give.

She looked out at the yard, then back at him and started talking. Work first. Easy things. North Carolina. Her apartment. Her routine. People she’d met.

Stories.

While she talked, Smoke realized something he wasn’t prepared for. She still told stories the same way. Started in the middle. Circled back later. Used her hands when she got excited. Apologized when she thought she was talking too much.

He listened and somewhere between hearing about grocery stores, coworkers, apartment maintenance requests and how she still hated driving in Charlotte traffic—he realized something that settled low in his chest and stayed there.

He didn’t know this version of her. Not like before, but every few minutes she’d laugh a certain way, tilt her head, or remember something small and he’d recognize her again.

By the time people started slowing down on third plates and settling into the familiar rhythm of a Southern cookout—eating, arguing, walking, sitting back down just to stand up again five minutes later—the energy in the yard softened into something looser. The loud excitement of arrivals had worn off and settled into clusters. Older folks migrated toward shade and folding chairs, paper plates balanced on laps while conversations stretched across years and family trees. Kids had already abandoned actual meals in favor of popsicles, chips, and running themselves sick. The music changed again. Luther faded into Dru Hill for a minute before somebody protested and switched it back.

Geneva appeared carrying a clear plastic storage tub against her hip with the same expression she always wore before causing problems.

Nobody noticed at first, except Aunt Cheryl. She pointed immediately . “Ah hell nah.”

Geneva ignored her and kept walking.

Stack spotted the tub next and groaned. “Put them fuckin’ pictures back, mane.”

That got everybody’s attention. People started reacting before she even reached the tables.

“Not today.”

“Who got old pictures?”

“Geneva don’t start.”

Geneva dropped the tub onto an empty section of the buffet table between the leftover buns and a sweating pitcher of sweet tea. “I was cleanin’ closets.”

Nobody believed that.

The pictures came out anyway. 

It happened naturally after that. People stopped eating long enough to drift over and look. Hands started reaching. Some found an elementary school picture and immediately started roasting hairstyles. Someone else found old prom photos. A cousin started lying about ages and got corrected instantly. Kids kept trying to grab pictures and getting their hands smacked away before somebody else handed them disposable cameras from another pile to distract them.

Annie ended up near the table without meaning to. Smoke ended up there too beside her. Close enough, but nobody commented.

Geneva stood flipping through a stack while narrating to nobody in particular.“Lord look at this.”

“Oh this was ugly.”

“Who dressed us, the fuck?”

People leaned in and out around her shoulder. Grace had Lisa balanced against one hip while trying to steal bites off Bo’s plate at the same time. Therise sat lower in her chair rubbing absent circles over her stomach while one of her boys climbed halfway into her lap. Pearline had somehow inserted herself directly into the center of everything and Stack kept appearing over her shoulder anytime she laughed.

Geneva flipped one more. Stopped. Looked again and her face changed. Her eyebrows climbed and her mouth opened slightly before she made a low noise in her throat.

“Aww shit.”

That caught more attention than yelling would have. People turned.

“What?”

Geneva stared another second, and looked up. Her eyes moved once to Annie and Smoke, then back down. A sneaky ass smile started pulling at her mouth. She held the picture against her chest.

“Oh y’all thought y’all was slick.”

Immediately everybody wanted to see. Pearline reached for the picture, but Geneva pulled away. 

Stack tried to reach for it and again, Geneva pulled away.

Grace leaned forward laughing. “Move!”

Geneva laughed and finally handed the picture over.

Pearline took the photograph and immediately stopped smiling.

At first Annie thought she was joking, waiting for some exaggerated reaction or teasing comment, but Pearline just looked down at the picture for a long time. Her eyes moved once across the image, then lifted slowly toward Annie before drifting across the table toward Smoke and back down again. Something changed in her face—it wasn't a shock exactly, more recognition mixed with the satisfaction of finally having evidence for something she already suspected.

Her mouth stretched into a grin. “Oh y’all was bad.”

That was enough.

People started reaching automatically. Stack tried to take it and got smacked away. Bo leaned halfway across Grace to see. A cousin behind them started asking questions before they’d even seen it. The picture moved from hand to hand through overlapping reactions and commentary until eventually it ended up in Annie’s hands.

The photograph looked older than it actually was. Printed on glossy paper that had picked up faint bends and fingerprints over the years, the colors had softened just enough to make the whole thing feel warmer than real life. Like memory had edited it. 

Summer sunlight flattened everything into soft gold. Somebody’s backyard stretched behind them in a blur of folding chairs, coolers, and people half-cut out of frame. Stack stood in the background throwing up signs with his hands. Smoke sat in one of those cheap ass woven lawn chairs that somehow survived every cookout, stretched out in a white t-shirt and basketball shorts, looking mildly irritated that a camera was pointed in his direction.

And Annie—She stared. 

She was asleep, actually asleep.Her head rested against Smoke’s shoulder and her body had turned naturally toward him in the way people did when they trusted something enough to stop paying attention to it. One hand sat folded beneath her cheek. Her legs had curled in his direction.

But her attention kept returning to something she hadn’t noticed immediately. Smoke’s arm.

It rested around her side.

Not wrapped tightly, but it looked absentminded almost—his forearm curved behind her, hand resting lightly against her body as if steadying her had become automatic somewhere along the day and nobody thought enough of it to move. The thing that unsettled her most was that he wasn’t even looking at her. He’d been talking to somebody outside the frame. His expression looked normal. Like there was nothing unusual about any of it.

Annie stared harder. She remembered that cookout. She was fourteen at the time. She remembered being tired as hell. She remembered being hot and eating too much and probably complaining about something.

She did not remember this though.

Around her the conversation started unfolding the way family memories always did—not one person telling a story while everybody listened, but people remembering sideways together.

“Oh I remember that.”

“That was Barbara backyard. She done gone to Glory now.”

“She had worked that morning.”

“She fell asleep outside?”

Grace leaned farther in and laughed before pointing directly at Smoke.

“Wait. Why she sleep on you?”

Smoke looked once at the picture. His shoulders moved. “She was tired.”

That answer got a louder reaction than the picture itself.

Stack stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your defense?”

Smoke looked confused. “What else was she supposed to do?”

People started laughing harder.

Aunt Cheryl wandered over carrying sweet tea and looked down at the picture. Her face changed immediately. 

“Oh yeah.”

Everybody turned.

She pointed with her cup. “She passed out after she ate.”

Another cousin snapped her fingers. “Yes.”

Aunt Cheryl nodded once. “And Smoke wouldn’t let nobody move her.”

Annie looked up. Smoke looked away.

Another auntie laughed. “He carried her inside later.”

Smoke frowned. “No I didn’t.”

That got corrected immediately from three different directions. “Yes you did.”

Geneva pointed at the picture. “You carried her upstairs and put her in Barbara room.”

Another cousin jumped in. “You wouldn’t let nobody wake her.”

Smoke looked offended now. “That is not what happened.”

Uncle Lewis finally looked over from where he’d been eating and didn’t even pause before answering. “You said she wake up irritated and you ain’t want folks botherin’ her.”

The yard lost it.

Smoke looked personally betrayed. Geneva kept flipping. Another picture surfaced. Football game. Annie wearing a hoodie too big.  Smoke’s. Smoke beside her. Another cookout. Smoke fixing her plate. Another. School event. A group photo. People spread out across the frame. Except somehow Annie and Smoke were always touching. Shoulders brushing, knees angled together. Standing too close. Leaning or looking enough that once people started noticing it became impossible to stop.

Grace took one and looked down for a long second before slowly lifting her eyes. Her smile faded slightly. 

“Oh.”

Nobody answered.

She looked again. Then back up. “Oh y’all was together together.”

That quieted things more than the teasing had.

Aunt Cheryl looked over casually. “I always knew.”

People looked at her.

She shrugged. “What?”

Her eyes moved toward Smoke. “That boy looked for her before he did anything.”

Another auntie nodded immediately. “If Annie wasn’t outside he wasn’t stayin’ outside long.”

Someone laughed. Another added—“She sat beside him everywhere.”

Lewis pointed with his fork. “That boy built his whole schedule around her.”

Smoke immediately objected. “Mane, Unc—”

Stack started laughing immediately and pointed toward Uncle Lewis. “Nah, Unc—you right. You right.”

Smoke turned instantly. “Shut the fuck up, mane.”

Stack ignored him completely. “Practice over?” He nodded dramatically. “Where Annie.”

People started laughing harder.

Stack kept going. “Weekend?” Another nod. “Where Annie.”

He pointed toward Smoke with his cup. “Lunch?” Shrug. “Did Annie eat?”

Cornbread barked out laughing.

Stack looked around the group like he’d just solved a mystery. “Damn. This nigga ain’t have no hobbies.”

Annie looked over at Smoke. Smoke refused eye contact.

Aunt Cheryl took another sip and looked down at more photographs in front of her and began shaking her head. Her voice softened. 

“I really thought y’all was gon’ get married.”

Nobody laughed, because it didn’t shock them, she sounded sincere.

Her eyes moved between Annie and Smoke before settling back onto the pictures.

“Y’all was serious.” She smiled faintly. “Then Annie moved.”

The conversation didn’t stop after that. Somewhere behind them kids screamed over a water hose, others argued about ribs. Foil crinkled. But Annie looked back down at her fourteen-year-old self sleeping against Smoke and realized something she had never considered before.

They thought they had been private while everybody else had been watching them fall in love.

Aunt Cheryl took another sip of her sweet tea and continued casually—“I told yo’ mama to let you stay with me.”

The noise around the table kept moving for another second before it stalled.

Annie looked up. “Ma’am?”

Aunt Cheryl looked at her like she’d forgotten Annie didn’t know. “When y’all moved,” she shrugged lightly. “I told her leave you here with us so you could finish school.”

Smoke looked over, actually looked.

Pearline frowned. “You did?”

Before Cheryl could answer another voice floated over.

“She did.”

Everybody turned. Pearline’s mother Maxine stepped out from the house carrying a wine glass and one of those paper plates bending under too much food.

She looked between them. “We both did.” She sat down carefully. “We told your mama movin’ you your senior year wasn’t right if she didn’t have to.”

Annie stared.

Maxine shrugged. “Especially when you already basically lived over here.” She gave a small laugh. “You and…” she pointed toward Pearline.  “…Pea.”

Pearline groaned immediately. “Mamaaa, please stop callin’ me that.”

Maxine ignored her. “…came home cryin’.”

Annie blinked. “What?”

Aunt Cheryl nodded once. “You don’t remember?”

And suddenly she remembered. The memory came back the way it always did—through feeling first and details second. Cardboard boxes stacked against her bedroom wall. Her mother kneeling beside an open suitcase folding shirts with the kind of quiet focus that usually meant her mind was already somewhere else. Annie standing in the doorway pretending she wasn’t crying yet.

She remembered asking casually the first time. What if I stay with Pearline for the year?

Her mother hadn’t even looked up. No.

Annie remembered trying again later. Different day. Different approach. What if I stay with Aunt Cheryl?

That time her mother paused long enough for hope to show up where it shouldn’t have. Then— Baby, we already talked about this.

Annie remembered stepping farther into the room. I’ll come to North Carolina after graduation.

Her mother finally looked at her then. You comin’ with me.

Final.

Back then Annie thought that had been the whole conversation. She thought she asked, her mother said no, and life kept moving.

Sitting here now with a faded photograph in her hands and Aunt Cheryl looking at her over sweet tea, she realized there had been other conversations after she left the room. Adult conversations. Aunt Cheryl and Aunt Max offering. Them trying. People who saw her life here and tried to protect it in ways she never knew. And suddenly the ache sitting in her chest wasn’t about moving anymore. It was realizing she hadn’t imagined wanting to stay. 

She looked back at Aunt Cheryl. “…you asked?” 

Aunt Cheryl nodded.

Maxine took a sip. “She wasn’t hearin’ it.”

Nobody said anything more after that.

Annie looked down at the photograph again. Fourteen. Asleep on Smoke. Everybody thinking they had time. Her chest tightened worse. Not at her mother. Her mother had done what she thought was right, but suddenly—for the first time—she saw another version.

Senior year. One more year. Graduation. Prom. Football games. One more summer. One more year with him.

Her eyes lifted before she meant them to. Smoke was already looking at her. For the first time all afternoon—he looked surprised as well, like this changed something for him too.

Annie swallowed and set the picture down carefully.

Pearline looked up immediately. “Annie?”

Annie forced a small smile. “…I need a drink.”

She started walking away before she started mourning something she never realized she almost had.

Annie started moving before she fully decided to.

Her hand left the photograph and settled automatically against the edge of the table while her mind tried to reorganize itself around information she hadn’t known existed five minutes earlier. 

Around them the cookout continued uninterrupted. Mike asked where the hamburger buns went. Children ran past with wet shirts and popsicles staining their mouths. One of the older men near the domino table laughed so loudly the sound carried over the music. 

Normal.

The whole yard stayed normal. Which somehow made the ache sitting low in Annie’s chest feel sharper.

She smiled automatically and leaned her weight backward.

“I’m finna go get—”

Her voice stopped from surprise. Smoke’s hand had closed loosely around hers. For a second she looked at their hands before she looked at him.

He hadn’t moved otherwise. He was still standing near the table. Same expression mostly. But something had changed. The usual restraint she remembered in him had slipped somewhere while everybody talked. His face looked quieter now. Less guarded. Like he’d stopped paying attention to the people around them without realizing it.

When he finally spoke, his voice stayed low enough that she almost missed it beneath the noise.

“You asked to stay?”

She looked at him and suddenly she understood that he wasn’t asking for clarification. He was asking if what they said was true.

Her chest tightened.

She looked away first trying to find the right version of the answer. She gave a small laugh that disappeared almost immediately.

“Yeah.”

Her thumb stirred once beneath his hand.

“I asked.” She swallowed. “Then I asked again.” A small smile pulled briefly at her mouth. “And again.” 

Her shoulders lifted slightly. “Till she finally had to tell me stop askin’.”

Annie said it so lightly, like something she’d made peace with a long time ago.

But Smoke’s face changed. His eyes stayed on her longer than before and she felt his thumb move once against the side of her hand before he seemed to realize what he was doing and went still again.

When he spoke again his voice sounded different—honest in a way she wasn’t prepared for. 

“I thought you wanted to leave.”

Her head turned immediately in confusion. “What?”

His eyes dropped briefly before coming back to her. His jaw flexed once, then his shoulders moved in the smallest shrug. 

“I thought you was ready.”

Annie stared at him—something uncomfortable and sad opened inside her. Not because of what he said, but because she understood. She thought he knew. Thought he understood she didn’t want to go. Thought he knew she cried every night. All this time he thought she left and learned how to live without him.

Her eyebrows pulled together. Her answer came before she could edit it. 

“I never wanted to leave.”

Smoke looked at her the way people look when they realize they’ve been carrying the wrong version of a story for years and suddenly don’t know where to put it.

Neither of them moved or acknowledged they were still holding hands.

The yard kept moving around them anyway. Music changed. Coolers opening. Aunt Cheryl started yelling about sweet tea.

But something had changed. Not outside.

Between them.

Annie looked at him and realized she had been carrying guilt she never examined. Smoke looked at her and realized he’d been carrying rejection that wasn’t real. For one impossible second she wondered how many years they had both spent grieving two completely different versions of the same goodbye.

Then a voice came from in front of them.

Familiar.

Close enough that it belonged there.

“Hey...”

The moment broke. Smoke turned. Annie turned too.

Jada stood a few feet away with an expensive handbag in her hand and sunglasses pushed up into her curls. She looked like somebody who had arrived late to something ordinary.

Her eyes landed on Smoke first. Then lowered… stopped.

Annie followed her gaze.

Their hands.

Jada looked up again. This time at Annie.

Annie turned back toward Smoke automatically and for the first time all day she couldn’t read his face. He didn’t pull away and he didn’t tighten his grip either. If anything, he seemed to become aware of the moment at the exact same time she did. 

His eyes moved to Jada and stayed there for a second before coming back to Annie. She watched something pass across his face—surprise first, then something she couldn’t organize quickly enough to understand. His hand remained around hers for another second before his fingers eased away gradually, not dropping her hand, but releasing it carefully, almost reluctantly, like he had become aware of the touch at the same moment she had.

Annie looked down briefly before lifting her eyes again. The feeling that hit her wasn’t embarrassment or even disappointment. It felt stranger than that. For one impossible second she had forgotten there was a world outside of this conversation, and now it had returned all at once with names, history and context attached to it.

But underneath all of that sat another realization arriving slower than the others.

Jada didn’t look confused. She looked surprised to see Annie. Not surprised to see Smoke.

And suddenly Annie became aware of something. The ease in the way Jada approached them. The familiarity in her voice when she said his name. The way she stepped into his space without hesitation, like she already knew she had the right to be there.

Like she belonged there.

Nobody spoke. Then somewhere behind them at exactly the same time—

Stack said quietly—

“…oh shit.”

Pearline whispered—

“…fuck.”

End Note: Soooo....yeah. This chapter did NOT go as I planned. This was supposed to be the blow out, but I swear these characters have a mind of their own. They take me where THEY want to go. But I hope you liked this chapter and next chapter (I promise) is where it all goes down!

Tag List:

That particular Tuesday morning, she'd been in good spirits.

Stack remembered that too — the specific quality of her mood, light and anticipatory, the way she'd hummed while she dressed and come to find him in the warm tangle of the bed where he was still trying to talk himself into consciousness.

She'd perched on the edge of the mattress and put her hand on his arm. "I'm heading out. Market first, then Decatur."

"Mm." He'd found her hand without opening his eyes. "Your flowers."

"My wisteria," she corrected, with the primness of a woman defending something she knew was ridiculous and had decided not to care. "They were coming in beautiful last week. I want to take some cuttings before the heat gets to em’."

"You and them flowers, I swear." He'd cracked one eye open to look at her. She was already done up — hair pinned, a pale yellow dress, looking like the kind of morning a man would want to wake up into. "Normal women collect dishes. Spoons. You out here unnaturally attached to a weed."

"Wisteria ain’t a weed."

"It's growing on an abandoned fence, in the middle of—"

"It is not a weed," she said, with great dignity, and he'd laughed and pulled her down and kissed her temple and her cheek and the corner of her mouth until she was trying not to smile and failing completely.

"You a crazy woman," he'd murmured into her hair. Fond. Helplessly fond.

"You in love with this crazy woman," she'd said back, soft and certain, and pressed her lips to his jaw before she stood and smoothed her dress and went.

He'd listened to her footsteps move through the house. The quiet of the front door.

Then he'd turned his face back into the pillow and gone back to sleep, easy and untroubled, because it was Tuesday and Annie was going to the market and then to her flowers and then home.

That was how Tuesday worked.

The juke was quiet in the late afternoon — the interim hour between the day men leaving and the night crowd arriving, when the place belonged mostly to the staff and the sound of chairs being set right.

Stack was going over the week's receipts at the back table when Deacon Hollis wandered in, which was not unusual. Deacon was seventy-something and had been drinking at this particular establishment through three different owners and two of his own wives. He came in most afternoons for one glass of something and whatever conversation was available.

He settled at the bar and said to the boy wiping down the counter, "Busy on Decatur Street today. Had to go all the way around."

Stack didn't look up.

The bar boy made a sound of mild interest.

"Some kind of commotion," Deacon continued, with the relish of a man who had no urgent business anywhere and could therefore linger on details. "Couple hours back, maybe more. Police come through, asked some questions. Seemed like somebody saw something they shouldn't have, or something got moved that shouldn't be."

Stack turned a page.

"Right near that empty lot," Deacon added. "The one with all them purple flowers on the fence."

Stack's hand stilled on the page.

Just his hand. Nothing else visible changed — not his expression, not his posture, nothing that the room would have clocked as meaningful. But his hand stopped moving, and in the space behind his eyes something very cold and very focused began assembling itself.

The lot with the purple flowers.

Annie's lot. Annie's Tuesday. Annie who had left that morning with a cloth in her bag for wiping down the blooms and had said I want to take some cuttings before the heat gets to them and whom he had not heard from since.

He set the receipts down.

"Deacon," he said, and his voice came out even. Measured. "What time you say that was?"

Deacon turned on his stool, pleased to have an audience. "Oh, two o'clock maybe? Half past? The officers was already gone by the time I come through, but old Ruth from the dress shop was still standing outside talking about it. Said she'd seen a woman—"

Stack was already standing.

Deacon blinked. "You alright, son?"

But Stack was already moving through the back, already pulling the curtain aside that separated the main room from the office where Smoke was doing what Smoke was always doing — sitting with numbers and a cigarette and that particular quality of stillness that could mean anything or nothing.

Smoke looked up.

He took one look at his brother's face and put the cigarette down.

"Talk," he said.

Stack talked. Smoke listened with the unnerving focus he brought to all things that required it, and when Stack finished, Smoke didn't say anything for a moment. Just looked at the middle distance. Doing the same arithmetic Stack had already done and arriving at the same unbearable sum.

Then he stood, picked up his coat, and said, "Let's go find out."

They found out.

A man named Lenny Briggs, one of their runners, who had heard something he hadn't known what to do with and had been working up the courage to come to the juke when Stack found him first on the corner of Fifth and Marsh. Lenny had the look of a man who would have preferred not to be found.

He told them what he knew.

Slim’s men — a rival outfit who had been circling the east side numbers territory for the better part of a year, looking for a pressure point, looking for the particular lever that would bring the Moore brothers to a table they hadn't chosen. They had found their lever. They had taken her off the street somewhere between the market and the lot — right around the wisteria, which Stack would think about for a long time after — and they had her at the old Beaumont property on the south road.

Lenny gave the address with the energy of a man trying to make a down payment on his own continued wellbeing. Stack received the information without expression, said "Thank you" in a voice that was quiet and even and somehow worse than shouting, and turned south.

Smoke fell into step beside him and put one hand briefly on his brother's arm. The old signal. Wordless. Be smart. We get her first. Everything else after.

Stack's jaw was granite. He nodded once.

They were smart. They were fast.

There were two men outside and three within.

Smoke handled the outside — efficient, practiced, the kind of violence that begins and ends cleanly because it has a purpose and knows what that purpose is. Then he pushed through the door.

Stack was still in the room with the last one.

The man was on the floor. Had been on the floor for a while, by the look of it. Stack was crouched over him, one knee on the ground, and he was not finished. The man had stopped being a threat some time ago and Stack had continued anyway, methodical and terrifyingly quiet — no rage in his face, which was somehow worse than rage. Just something hollow and absolute, like a door that had been opened onto nothing.

Smoke stood in the doorway for a moment and watched.

Then he said, "Stack."

Stack didn't stop.

"Stack." Harder this time. Not a shout — Smoke didn't shout — but weighted. The kind of voice that expected to be heard.

Stack's hand stilled.

He stayed crouched for a moment, breathing. The sound of it filled the room — ragged, too fast.

Smoke crossed to him and put one hand on the back of his neck. Firm and present. "She's in the back," he said, low. "She's okay. We got her. Come on back now."

A long beat.

Stack looked down at what was in front of him. Something shifted in his face — not quite recognition, not quite regret. More like a man surfacing from very deep water and finding the light strange.

He stood. Didn't say anything. Just turned and walked toward the back of the building, and Smoke followed, and neither of them looked back at the room.

The door came off its hinges.

Not broken — removed. Stack had simply decided it was in his way and dealt with it accordingly, and Smoke caught it without breaking stride and set it against the wall with the quiet efficiency of a man long accustomed to making the world cooperate, and stepped through the threshold behind his brother.

The room was dim. Smelled like damp wood and kerosene and something metallic that neither of them dwelled on.

And there, in the far corner —

There she was.

Their matriarch. Their woman. Their Annie.

Smoke exhaled. Just the one breath. One single moment of relief so complete it was almost physical, before he folded it away and put it somewhere safe.

Stack didn't bother with any of that.

He crossed the room in four long strides. Annie barely had time to register him before he pressed her back against the wall — not rough, not cruel, but absolute. Like he needed something solid behind her. Like he needed to know she couldn't be taken anywhere else.

"Stack—" Smoke started.

The younger twin didn't hear him. Or if he did, it didn't matter.

His hands came up to her face. Both of them. Palms bracketing her jaw, thumbs moving across her cheekbones, fingers pressing back into her hair. Frantic eyes cataloguing everything — the dried tear tracks, the slight swelling at her wrist, the small cut at the corner of her lip that made something behind his eyes go very briefly and very darkly wrong before he forced himself onward. Keep checking. Keep confirming.

Here. Alive. Breathing. Theirs. Home.

Annie had never felt more precious than in that moment. Not cherished — that was too soft a word for what was happening. Something rawer. Something that lived below language.

Once he had confirmed what he needed to confirm, he swept down and claimed what had always been his.

Blood still painted his face. She could smell the iron as he descended, and some distant sensible part of her registered that it should frighten her — the state of him, what it implied, the fact that none of that blood was his.

But she was not always a sensible woman when it came to these men.

She let him have it. Let him take the kiss like it was owed — because it was. Raw and primal and a little gruesome the way all true things are a little gruesome. His chest heaved against hers, and his hands were trembling — Stack's hands, which she had never once seen tremble — moving over her arms, her sides, her face. Touching. Feeling. Verifying.

She felt it all move through her like weather. His fear. His fury. His absolute, immovable devotion.

I know, she thought. I know, baby. I know.

She murmured it into his hair when he finally broke, forehead dropping to her shoulder, a shudder moving through him she felt with her whole body.

"I know. I'm here."

Smoke stood back and watched.

Because Stack needed this. Maybe Annie needed it too — to be held this completely, this desperately, after hours of not knowing when or whether. But Stack needed it most. So Smoke stayed where he was and gave the man the room.

Annie met the older twin's eyes over Stack's bowed head.

Nothing passed between them except everything. She saw the tightness at the corner of his jaw. The controlled version of the same thing Stack was barely containing. She held his gaze until she saw his shoulders drop a single fraction of an inch.

I see you. I'm alright. He's alright. We're alright.

Stack made a sound then — small and cracked and quiet, pressed into her shoulder. The kind a man makes only when he doesn't mean to. She felt it like something giving way.

She pulled him in tighter.

"It's okay," she murmured, hand pressing flat between his shoulder blades. "I'm here, baby. I ain't goin' nowhere."

He held on.

Annie had been the one taken.

But it was Stack who felt like he had lost his heart.

A long moment passed. Then, muffled against her shoulder, rough and still unsteady — somewhere between a reprimand and a man who had been terrified into raw honesty:

"And you ain't gon’ do no shit like that again."

Annie closed her eyes.

Her hand moved slow and steady through his hair.

"No," she said softly. "I ain't."

Smoke pulled the lamp low before he sat at the foot of the bed.

It was well past midnight. The house had gone completely quiet. Annie lay in the middle of the bed, Stack curved against her back with his face tucked into her hair, one arm thrown across her waist like a man holding on even in sleep.

Cleaned up now. Dressed down. The blood long gone — Annie had done it herself at the basin, quiet and methodical, and Stack had sat on the edge of the tub and let her. Had not said a word while she washed his hands and his face and his split knuckles, which told their own particular story that she had received without comment and without flinching.

She was awake. Smoke had known she would be.

"He out?" Smoke asked, low.

"Mm. Fought it some." Her hand moved slowly through Stack's curls. "But he's out."

A beat of quiet between them. The lamp flame held steady.

"You alright?" he asked.

"I'm whole," she said. Her particular answer — the one that meant something more than fine and less than undamaged and asked him to understand the distance between those things.

He accepted it. He would look at her properly in the morning.

"Elijah." Soft but weighted.

"I'm listening."

She was quiet a moment, eyes on the ceiling.

"I ain’t never seen him like that," she finally said.

Smoke was quiet too, for a long stretch of seconds.

He had been there. He had witnessed what Annie had not fully seen — what had happened in those rooms before they reached her. He knew the shape of what his brother had done, and he knew that Stack, of all people, of all the men Smoke had stood beside in all the years of their lives — Stack was not supposed to be the one who went that far past the line.

"No," Smoke said. "Neither have I."

She absorbed that. Let it settle.

"Was it bad?" she said.

"Depended," Smoke said, "on which side of it you were on."

A breath that was almost a laugh. "That ain't an answer."

"It's the honest one." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at his brother's sleeping face. The furrow still between his brows, even now. "He went past what was needed. Kept going after it was done. I had to call him back." A pause. "Twice."

Annie's hand stilled in Stack's hair for just a moment. Then resumed.

"He was ahead of me the whole way there," Smoke continued, quieter now. "I known Stack all my life. Watched him in situations that would've laid other men down. He's always had something working up here even when he's pushed — he thinks. He's always been able to think." He paused. "Tonight he wasn't thinking."

"What was he doing?" she said.

"Feeling," Smoke said simply.

Annie closed her eyes.

Stack shifted against her in his sleep, brow tightening, and she made a soft sound and his face smoothed again, like he could hear her even under everything.

"He knew something was wrong before anyone told him," she said. Not quite a question.

"Yes."

"How?"

Smoke was quiet for a beat. "Your flowers."

Annie stilled.

"Deacon came in talking about a commotion on Decatur. Near the lot." Smoke glanced at her. "Stack was across the room. He heard the words purple flowers and that was all it took."

Something moved across Annie's face. Too complicated to name.

"All those Tuesdays," she said softly.

"He knows your Tuesdays, Annie." Smoke's voice was matter of fact, the way he said things that were simply true and required no decoration. "He knows how long the market takes and which way you walk and what time you're usually back. He noticed before any message came. Before anyone came to us at all. He put it together himself."

She was very quiet for a moment.

"Lord," she breathed.

Outside, the wind moved through the pecan trees, that soft sound of a summer night settling into itself.

"You need to say something to him when he wakes," Smoke said. "Not about what happened in that room — he doesn't need to explain himself and you don't need the details. But he needs to hear that you see him the same." He looked at her steadily. "That tonight ain’t change your eyes when you look at him."

"It didn't," she said. And then, smaller: "It just — added to what's already there."

Smoke held her gaze for a moment. Then nodded once, slowly.

"And me," she said, after a breath.

"And you," he confirmed.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he agreed. "When he's with us and you've both rested. But Annie." His voice dropped a register, quiet and absolute. "What you love doing, where you go — none of that changes. But how you move through the world when we not with you?" He held her gaze. "That's the conversation we're gon’ to have."

Annie's chin lifted slightly. She didn't argue it. But she held his gaze long enough to communicate that it would be a conversation and not a sentencing, and Smoke acknowledged that with the smallest dip of his head.

Good enough for tonight.

He rose and came around to his side — the familiar geography of their life, every night for years — and settled in.

The bed held all three of them, as it always had.

Annie lay in the dark and looked at the ceiling and listened to the two men breathing, one deep in sleep, one slipping toward it.

She thought about that morning. The yellow dress. The cloth she'd tucked into her bag for the blooms. Stack's voice still rough with sleep, laughing at her — you and those flowers, I swear — and pulling her down and kissing her like she was something ridiculous and wonderful and entirely his.

Crazy woman.

Your crazy woman.

She pressed her lips to his temple in the dark. Soft as a secret.

His arm tightened across her waist even in sleep.

Love should be calm, she thought. Peaceful. The kind of thing you can sleep inside of and wake up still held by.

But she thought about the words purple flowers landing across a quiet room. About the hand going still on the receipts. About Smoke’s thirty-some years of knowing someone so well that the wrong silence sounded like a scream.

The act of love, she thought, was something else entirely.

She exhaled.

She was home.

They were home.

Outside, somewhere, her wisteria grew on its rotting fence — untended, extravagant, stubbornly beautiful — and knew nothing about any of it.

______

A/N If you could find it in your hearts to forgive me? 🥺 Don't know what to say that would explain this absence so I'm not going to say anything. Feels like all I give ya'll is excuses for real. I am okay. Doing well. Life is just lifeing, interviewing for a new job (pray I get it!) I'll be in Chicago next week actually. So I'll def do some writing there :) Hope you're all well. Hope you enjoy this bite sized piece of our lovely trio. Love you <3

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This work of art is part of "The Moore Kind" universe. Where Smoke, Annie, and Stack exist as a Trio. If you'd like to learn more about them, check out My Masterlist 😘

___

All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. (Also lmk if you want me to remove you. No hard feelings I promise.)

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Shaking her head she turned on some music to distract herself. Overjoyed by Stevie Wonder was the first song. She had to laugh at the irony as she tapped along. It was the song Elijah played outside her window after their first big fight and the first one they danced to at their wedding. It all seemed like a lifetime ago but the feelings were still fresh.

A memory from a few months ago replayed in her head.

[Flashback]

The kids were asleep and Annie was getting herself ready for bed. While applying her overnight moisturizer, her husband came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

Kissing behind her ear, he swayed gently. “You wanna dance with me?”

Relaxing into him, she started to sway along. “Ain’t no music playin’.” It didn’t matter, they didn’t need music for this moment. When the moment was slow, just the beating of their hearts was all the rhythm they needed.

“I can sing for you.” His lips traced her neck. “What song you want me to sing?” His hands gripped the soft flesh of her hips. Three children had changed her physique in ways he worshipped any time they had a moment alone. 

Amused by Elijah’s playful mood, Annie giggled at the notion of him singing. “I’ll let you guess.”

What started as a poor rendition of “Overjoyed” turned into soft kissing and quiet moans. Their time in bed spent relearning each other’s desires, remembering why their love guided everything they did, and rejoicing in the pleasure of their mutual adoration for each other.

Elijah was on top of his wife moving in and out of her, telling her things that could never be said in front of polite company when all of a sudden she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him roughly. When she released him a wild look was in her eyes. “You want more, baby?”

Not responding to his question, she pushed him back slightly so she could sit up and flip them both over so that she was on top. Her hips seemed to move on their own accord up and down her husband’s thick shaft. “I want another baby, Elijah. Give me another one.” Bouncing up and down, she willed him to cum inside of her.

The same wild look that took over his wife, overcame Elijah causing him to flip them both over again so that he was on top. He pounded into her like his life depended on it. “I’ll give you another baby, love. Hell, I’ll give you two more.” He felt his impending climax and tensed before releasing all he had into the woman of his dreams triggering her orgasm.

They lay in silence for a few moments in the afterglow of their lovemaking both with wide smiles on their faces. 

“You did that, Elijah,” Annie said between breaths. “Is the sex getting better somehow?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” He was still dazed by the feeling of her around him. “In like two more minutes, I’ll need you to ride me like that again.” He pulled her close and sucked on her neck. “You really want another baby?”

Annie nodded enthusiastically. “Do you?”

“Fuck yes. You been thinkin’ about this a lot lately?” His tongue wrapped around her dark nipple. 

She shrugged. “I always wanna have your babies, Elijah.”

“Then that’s what you’ll have and anything else you want.” He took his chance to suck her nipple while his hand made its way between her legs. “Let’s get you ready for round two.”

***********

Heat flooded her lower half while she drove. It was a good thing Elijah was home for the day. She needed him to address the ache she was feeling. 

***********

The house was silent as Elijah slipped in bed next to his wife. They faced each other both taking a moment to study the other—noticing and appreciating the way the years showed on their faces. Elijah’s focus was on the soft lines around Annie’s eyes as she smiled at him. The feeling of being carried to safety and wrapped in warmth filled him as it always did when she gave him that look. He couldn’t imagine not being in love with her. “You gon’ tell me what they said?” 

Shrugging, Annie ran her fingers over his head, giving him a light scalp massage. “What you think they said, Elijah? This ain’t our first rodeo.” 

His body trilled from the feeling of her hands on him but he remained focused on her face and the expressions it made. “How you feelin’ about it?” Without much thought, he ran his hand down her side, stopping on her thigh.

“Good, mostly,” she sighed. “It’s what I said I wanted. You?”

Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. “It ain’t even a question for me. You know I’m happy about it. Why you say mostly?”

“Cuz I just got my titties back to myself like six months ago. Don’t tell me you ain’t enjoyed them. Especially when I woke up twice now with your mouth on ‘em.” The memory made her clench her thighs together.

His eyes zeroed in on her chest, his favorite place to lay his head. “You right about that. I definitely enjoyed free titties but I think that’s why we in this situation now. But I’m happy about this, Annie. Real happy.”

“I know, that’s what I told the technician when she asked if my husband would freak out.” She nudged him until he was on his back and she hovered over him trying not to giggle at his hopeful eyes. “I told her that she don’t know my husband obviously. Cuz my Elijah is wonderful.” She kissed his nose. “My Elijah is an amazin’ father.” Her lips moved to his jawline. “My Elijah was just as excited when we found out about our third baby as he was about the first.”

“Damn right, baby.” Elijah pulled his wife completely on top of him. 

For a moment, Annie just laid her head on his chest and breathed him in. The steady beating of his heart matched hers perfectly. “Mmhmm. And I told her that even with three kids already, my Elijah will be over the moon that we about to have two more.” Not giving him time to react, Annie smashed her lips to his and ran her hand under his shirt.

Just as he was getting lost in Annie’s actions, her words echoed in his mind making him sit up quickly and causing her to roll off of him. “Two more?”

Biting her lip, Annie nodded. “Take your shirt off.”

“Like twins?” He stared at her partially in wonder, partially in disbelief.

“Yep, like twins so you should be familiar. You gon’ take this shirt off or am I gon’ have to rip it off ya?” Tugging at his shirt, she tried unsuccessfully to remove it. “Selfish.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Twins? How?”

“I mean, I’m not clear on the science of twins but I’m pretty sure it happened the way our other kids happened. Still happy about it?”

He rubbed his face as if he was in deep thought before a wild grin appeared. “I put two of ‘em in you? Let’s go!” He jumped up and bounced on the bed. 

“Get down!” Annie laughed at her husband. “That’s why Andie thinks she can jump on everything now.”

Dropping back down to the bed, Elijah covered his wife’s lips with his. Indeed, he was over the moon and elated at the fact that they would have two more on the way. There was no greater feeling than coming home to a house full of little ones who were the perfect mixture of him and Annie. Their little squeals of excitement as he opened the door was his favorite sound. 

“Thank you so much, baby.” He removed his shirt and tossed it to the floor. “Thank you for givin’ me a beautiful family and lovin’ me even when I was too much of a fool to accept it.”

Not paying attention to what he was saying, Annie licked her lips and rubbed his taut chest and abs. “Now, this is what I been waitin’ for. Take them pants off too.” She nipped at his neck. “Hurry up before Junior wake up from his nap.”

Following her command, he removed his pants with a quickness. “You heard anything I said?”

“You heard me say ‘hurry up’ or do I have to repeat myself?” She snapped the elastic band of his boxers. “Take ‘em off!”

“Okay, bossy! Damn!” Though he feigned annoyance, he loved it when she was like this—forceful and demanding. He pulled down his boxers and gripped his hard length. “Gon’ make me put another one in there.”

Pulling up her muumuu, Annie bit her lip at the sight of him. “Yeah, yeah. Do what I pay you for and quit talkin’ so much.”

“Bet.” He settled between her legs and slid inside her. Even after all these years, he had to pause after he entered his wife for fear of finishing too soon. “Fuck!”

“That’s what I’m trying to get you to do, baby.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to move. Unfortunately for Annie, her mouth wrote a check her body couldn’t cash. Elijah was holding back in a lot of ways, still she came multiple times and her voice grew hoarse from all of the screaming she was doing. Just as her husband finished inside her, another strong orgasm was triggered and she passed out from the amount of pleasure filling her so deeply.

A satisfied grin came across Elijah’s face when he realized the love of his life had fallen asleep in the midst of their afternoon escapades. Giving her a kiss on her temple, he pulled out and got up to clean himself up before returning to take care of his wife. She slept soundly as he wiped between her legs with the practiced gentleness of a man in love. “Y’all be good for mommy. I’m gonna go check on your big brother.” He kissed her belly and went to tend to their two-year-old who would just be waking up from his nap.

When he picked the oldest two up from pre-k and primary school, he managed to keep quiet about their impending siblings. “When we get home, we have to be quiet. Mommy had a long day and she’s sleeping, okay?”

“Okay, Papa!” Their middle child, Andie, exclaimed. “I wanna nap with Mommy when we get home.” Andie was the spitting image of her mama and she was also her little sidekick never wanting to be too far from her if she could help it. The start of pre-school had been rough because she cried for her mama everyday for the first few weeks. 

“You can nap in your own bed, Ladybug,” Angel, their oldest, told her sister. “Papa, when Mommy wakes up, I need her help with my homework.”

“I can help you, Sunshine.”

“You can help Mommy help me.”

One thing that warmed Elijah is how obsessed his kids were with their mama. Sure, they loved him and he knew it but they couldn’t let a moment pass without mentioning her. It was completely understandable because he was the same way. “Okay, we can do it your way. What y’all want for dinner?”

“P’sghetti!” “Fries!” The two youngest kids shouted together. 

“Can I have PB&J, Papa?” 

“Okay. No, no, and no. Mommy just made spaghetti last week and you hardly touched it, Ladybug. Junior, fries is not a meal and the same to you Sunshine. What about pizza or chicken nuggets and fries?”

“Pizza!” “Fries!”

“Okay, we’ll have pizza and fries tonight.”

*******

When Annie woke it was dark outside. She sat up quickly, making herself dizzy. “Shit!” The time on her phone read 8:38 pm. Carefully, she got out of bed and went to find her husband. 

He was sitting at the dining room table with Angel helping her with her homework. He spotted his wife whose bonnet was halfway off of her head. The hours of sleep she had showed on her face and still, he wanted her. “Hey, Boss!” He went to kiss her soft lips. “We saved you some pizza and I can make you some fresh fries.”

It was then she realized how hungry she was. “I’ll eat anything you give me.”

Andie came running up to her mama. “Mommy! You took a nap for a loooong loooong time! I missed you!”

“I’m sorry, Ladybug. Papa should’ve woke me up when y’all got here.” She threw a pointed look to Elijah as she bent down to hug her second born. “You have fun at school today?”

“Yep! I played on the swings and we had a dance party. Mrs. Vera said we can have another one tomorrow after lunch.” She yawned. 

“Sound like Mrs. Vera is doin’ the Lord’s work, tirin’ y’all out like that,” Elijah chuckled. “Go get ya night clothes ready so you can get in the tub.”

“Mama, I’m finished with my homework!” Angel waved her paper around. “Come look at it!”

“And I’m the bossy one?” Making her way over to her firstborn, Annie felt a small body tackle her legs. She looked down to see it was her baby boy, Eli. He wasn’t completely named after his daddy but he looked so much like him, Annie started calling him Junior. “Sweet baby! What you been up to?” She saw that his face and shirt were covered in tomato sauce and picked him up. “Somebody else needs a bath too.”

“Bubbles!” One thing about Junior, is that he never needed convincing to get in the bath tub. The sight of bubbles was enough. “Kiss, Mama, kiss!” He puckered his lips.

Annie kissed his forehead—the only clean spot on his face—and carried him to the table where Angel held up her paper. “Let’s see if sissy did her homework right. How was school today, Miss Angel?”

Angel rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “Mrs. Seabrie put Ke’onte at my table again today and he acted a whole fool. Mr. Biggs had to come get him. I hope she don’t move him again.”

While Andie was Annie’s spitting image, Angel had her mama’s whole personality. “I’ll have to talk to her about that. He can’t keep disruptin’ your learnin.” She looked down at the paper and saw it was math. They were learning how to identify the names and values of coins. “Well, you certainly didn’t need me for this. Papa can count money in his sleep.”

“He said if I get an A on my test, he’ll give me a dollar.”

Annie shook her head. “Nah, an A is worth at least $5 but I bet we can talk him up to $10.”

A wide smile broke across Angel’s face. “Yeah! I can put it in my piggybank and I’ll have—” she did the calculations in her head. “$249.63!”

The amount surprised Annie. “Sunshine, how do you still have that much money when your Papa took you shoppin’ this weekend?”

“Papa said I’m not supposed to spend money when he around,” Angel shrugged. 

“You know what? He ain’t wrong. Spend all his money, baby!” She gave her daughter a high five. “Go get your stuff ready for bed. And you, Mr. Ketchup Face—” She smiled down at her youngest. “Let’s get you ready for bed too.”

“Want blueberries, Mama!” He pointed in the direction of the kitchen. 

“You want blueberries? Okay, but you can’t tell Ladybug. You know how crazy she is about her blueberries.”

Once all the kids had been bathed and put to bed, Annie and Elijah sat at the dining room table while Annie ate pizza, fries, potato chips, and baby carrots. “They give you any trouble today?”

“Nah,” Elijah shook his head. “You know Sunshine just wanna read, Ladybug wanted to show me a new flip she learned, and Junior—Okay, so he did give me a run for my money a lil bit, I ain’t gone lie.”

Annie gasped. “My baby? No he didn’t! He’s just the sweetest lil thing.”

“They call ‘em terrible twos for a reason, baby. He didn’t eat half of his food, kept throwing his toys across the room and climbing on stuff. Yo sweet baby get into everything when you ain’t lookin. That’s why he went to bed so easily. Tired himself out.”

“I think you exaggeratin’, Elijah.”

“I think you in denial, Boss. You’ll see soon enough. He can’t keep up that sweet act forever.”

“And you still spoil him just like you do the girls.”

“Aw, yeah! When he ain’t tryna jump off the counter, he cool people.”

“You ready to add two more cool people?”

“Yep!” He nodded vigorously. 

“Elijah,” Annie said, her tone serious. “You know I’m worried about space. Junior is still in the nursery and the office is too small.”

“So we can put Junior in the office and put another crib in the nursery for now.”

“We’ll have to sell the house, won’t we?” Tears came to her eyes at the thought of selling the house they bought together before they got married. She thought they’d be here longer than the ten years they had.

“Baby, it’ll be fine. We’ll find a bigger place and you’ll love it like you love it here.” He moved his chair closer to hers and pulled her to him. 

“But I walked all my babies through that door, Elijah and they took their first steps on these floors. We been measuring their height on the kitchen archway.” She leaned against her husband. “We gotta start all of that over?”

He rubbed her soft belly imagining it bigger and moving under his hand. “We just need maybe three extra rooms. Everything else we ain’t startin’ over, just…transferrin’.”

“Hmm,” Annie hummed and closed her eyes. If there was anything she could count on, it was Elijah’s level-headedness. She never knew why she bothered worrying so much when he’d jump in and alleviate her fears. Her eyes popped open. “Wait, did you say three extra bedrooms?”

********************

With Elijah returning to work, Annie returned to drop off and pick up duties. The morning had been normal enough and the girls were up getting ready while Annie packed their lunches.

Andie came rushing into the kitchen with her shoes on the wrong feet like she saw something she couldn’t believe. “Mommy, Angel said you and Papa got married. I thought Papa was your boyfriend.” Her little eyebrows scrunched and her head tilted in disbelief.

Going over to her middle child, she crouched down and tapped on each foot to let her know to make the correction. “Ladybug, why do you think Papa is my boyfriend? How do you even know what a boyfriend is?” 

“Because Micah said when she is grown she is gonna move in with her boyfriend. You and Papa live together so he is your boyfriend.”

Annie had to chuckle at the innocence of her child. “We gotta keep you away from Micah, Ladybug.” The youngest child of Elijah’s Uncle Jed and Aunt Ruth could be a wild one when she didn’t get her way. “Me and Papa are married so he’s my husband and I’m his wife.” 

Crossing her little arms across her chest, her lips turned to a deep pout. “Why I wasn’t there when you got married?”

“Now what did we say about that poutin’? Fix ya face, Ladybug,” Annie said sternly waiting until her daughter’s face relaxed. “You couldn’t be at our wedding because you weren’t born yet, babygirl.” She smoothed down Andie’s edges so they laid flat.

“Was Angel born yet?”

Shaking her head, Annie chuckled. “No, she wasn’t so she didn’t get to see me and Papa get married either. Go on get your book bag and jacket. Tell Angel to turn that TV off. I gotta go get your brother up.”

She nodded her head sadly. “I want to see you get married to Papa.” Turning away from her mother, she stomped back to her room.

When Annie dropped them off at school, Andie started to cry. “Ladybug, what’s wrong? I thought you wanted to go to your dance party.”

“You and Papa will get married again without me and I want to be there, not at school.” Tears rolled down her small face as she held on to Annie. 

Annie used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe Andie’s face before pulling out a small tub of Vaseline she kept in her purse. “I promise you we won’t. We’ll wait until you get out of choir practice with Aunt Ruth to get married again.” She spread the Vaseline over the little girls’ face and cleared up the traces of her tears. “I’ll call Papa and let him know, okay?” 

Nodding, Andie gave her mama one final hug and wiped her eyes. “Okay, Mommy.”

“Oo! Mommy, you should make cupcakes for the wedding!” Angel squealed, not being one to waste an opportunity to get sweets from her mama. “Let’s go Ladybug so Mama can start making the cupcakes.” She grabbed her little sister’s hand and led her to the school building. “Bye, Mommy! We want chocolate and strawberry!” 

Annie groaned once they were in the building. She looked in the back at Eli who was happily playing with the toy steering wheel on his carseat. “You want cupcakes too, Eli?”

He threw his hands up and smiled big. “Cupcake!”

Elijah called around lunch time to check on his wife and see if he needed to pick up anything from the store. 

“Some white icing for the cupcakes because I don’t feel like makin’ it.”

“Why are you making cupcakes?”

“For our wedding, Papa! Your child, Elijah, she just could not handle the fact that she didn’t see us get married. Just cryin’ and sad. I don’t even think she fully knows what a wedding is.”

“Ah, my Ladybug,” Elijah chuckled knowing exactly which of his kids it was just on the description alone. “How did this even come up?”

“She thought you were my boyfriend and Sunshine had to tell her that we’re married and it spiraled from there. I promised her we wouldn’t get married again when she was in school and now I’m making cupcakes for our impending nuptials. And you already know which child asked for cupcakes.”

“From boyfriend to fiancé to husband in one day? This is movin so fast, to be honest. What’s next—three kids with two on the way?”

Annie rolled her eyes and laughed. “You just better be at that alter tonight. Sunshine has soccer practice tonight so I’ll go pick her up. Aunt Ruth is gonna drop Andie off after choir practice at the church. Should I even make cupcakes?”

“You better! Sunshine gon’ be waitin’ for ‘em, wedding or not. I’ll pick up the icing before I get home. What we havin’ for dinner?”

“I don’t know. I feel like all I want to eat is fruit right now. Can you get some more kiwis at the store?” She had finished off the rest of the kiwis in the house and now was on the hunt for an apple. “That pizza didn’t sit well last night. What you want to eat?”

“If you feelin’ up to it, Boss, some of that beef and broccoli you made a few months ago with rice? I know it ain’t what we had on our first wedding night.”

“Good, because I ain’t makin’ no salmon and roasted chicken tonight so beef and broccoli it is.”

They talked a little bit longer, mostly wanting to hear each other’s voices, before they got off the phone. Annie made sure they had what they needed for dinner and went to check on Eli.

She looked in the nursery and saw his bed was empty. “Junior? Where are you?” Walking in, she looked around to see if he’d hidden behind something. She checked the closet, under the bed, and even behind the curtain. “Junior, mommy wants to give you a kiss but I can’t find you!” Pausing, she listened to the sounds in the house—it was too quiet. Moving as quickly as she could, she went into she and Elijah’s bedroom and heard movement in their bathroom. “Gotcha!” 

There sat Junior with his face covered in his Papa’s shaving cream. “Mommy, look!” He grinned proudly at his work.

Annie pulled out her phone to take pictures to send to Elijah. She thought about their conversation last night Lifting the little boy off the ground, she couldn’t help but laugh at his face. “You can’t be usin’ Papa’s stuff like this now.” She sat him on the countertop and grabbed a towel to clean his face. “Why didn’t you come get Mommy after your nap?”

“I pee, Mommy!” He giggled from the towel tickling his face. 

Annie checked to see if she’d have to change his Pull-Up but it was dry. Potty training was going okay but there were still accidents and he still hadn’t been able to go to the bathroom without help. A pang of fear came over her thinking that maybe he went to potty somewhere in the house. “Where did you pee, baby?”

He pointed to the toilet. “I pee there.”

Looking over, she saw the seat had been lifted and sure enough there was evidence that he had went to the potty all by himself. Squealing, she squeezed her son and spun him around. “My big boy went to the potty by himself! Aww!” Tears sprang to her eyes at the realization that her baby was growing up. 

“No cry, Mommy!” Junior’s little lip quivered at the sight of his mama’s tears. “Kiss!” He puckered his lips and leaned toward her assuming that a kiss would make it all better.

She leaned down so he could give her a kiss on her forehead. “My baby is a big boy now! Aww! You’ll probably be driving soon.” Sniffling, she continued to clean his face. “Your Papa is gonna be so happy!” She let the toilet seat down and flushed. “Gotta remember to let the seat down and flush every time you potty. And then we do what?” She rubbed her hands together as a clue.

“Wash hands!” Eli grabbed the soap dispenser and pressed down on it getting more than he needed. “Uh-oh! Too much, Mommy!”

“Give Mommy some.” She took some of the soap and washed their hands together. This was the simple part of motherhood but also the most heartbreaking—teaching them the little things they needed to know so they needed her less and less. Tears came to her eyes again at the thought of her kids growing up; even the ones who weren’t born yet. Sniffling, she grabbed a clean cloth to dry their hands and dab at her tears. “Mommy is so proud of you, Eli.”

***********

Elijah was greeted with the sound of the kids playing in the living room and a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen as he walked into the house. “I heard there was supposed to be a wedding tonight so I brought somethin’ for the cupcakes and somethin’ for the bride!” He held up the bag of icing and a mid-sized bouquet and stood in place as the kids ran to him.

“Papa! You and Mommy gettin’ married!” Andie jumped in his arms. “Mommy has to wear a white dress and you have to wear a tie.”

“You can wear your church clothes,” Angel suggested reaching for the icing. “I’ll take this to Mommy.” She hurried away in hopes of having a sample before dinner.

He smiled at Andie. “It’s that serious, Ladybug? I can’t wear what I have on?” He gestured to the slacks and button down he wore to the office.

Shaking her head Andie giggled. “You gotta look like a prince because Mommy will be a princess and kiss you so you won’t be a frog no more.”

“Oh so I’m a frog now?”

“Yes, until Mommy kisses you when you get married,” she nodded.

After dinner, the oldest two rushed their parents back to their room to get ready for their wedding.

Sitting Eli on the bed with a toy, Elijah turned to his wife. “You think they’ll make us say our vows over again?”

“I don’t know but they bein real strict tonight so anything is possible,” Annie said going into their closet. “The only other white dress I got that ain’t for church is the one I wore for my maternity shoot with Junior. I hope it fit okay.”

He joined her. “It’ll fit perfectly in a few months. When you wanna tell them about the babies?”

Annie shrugged removing her dress from its hanger. “I don’t know. Maybe in a few weeks after we get the second scan done. We can do something for them so it’ll be fun. Grab that black dress shirt right there and get a pair of black slacks. I’ll put a silver bowtie on you.”

In the course of getting dressed, they noticed Junior decided to jump off the bed repeatedly. 

“Junior, stop before you hurt yourself,” Annie warned while pinning her hair back.

Being the little daredevil that he was, Junior took a leap and landed hard on the floor.

“Oh no! You okay?” Annie rushed over to comfort her little boy only for him to pop back up without a care in the world.

“I jump, Mommy! Yaaay!” He clapped his hands.

Elijah came out of the bathroom and picked his son up and put him over his shoulder. “See, Boss? I told you he couldn’t keep up that innocent act for long. This boy rough as sandpaper.”

“I really thought he was hurt.” She inspected him for any bumps or bruises to make sure. “You scared Mommy.” She kissed his forehead and rubbed his arm. “You tell Papa that you went to potty all by yourself?”

“What?! Big man!” Elijah gave his youngest a high five and hugged him. “We ready for big boy underwear now?”

“Maybe only for the house for now but I think so!” 

Once they were dressed, they went back to the living room only to see that Elijah’s twin, Elias, and his girlfriend Niecey were there along with the twins’ little cousin, Sammie who had his guitar.

“Wait, why y’all here?” Annie looked at Angel pointedly. Obviously her oldest had texted her uncle and invited him over.

Chairs were arranged on each side of the fireplace with some of them occupied with the kids’ dolls and stuffed animals. Niecey waved and snapped a picture with her phone.

Elias stood up and took Eli from his brother. “Heard y’all was gettin’ married again so I’m here as the bodyguard for the best man here. Niecey is the photographer and you know Sammie couldn’t resist singin a lil song for y’all.” He leaned in to whisper. “Plus, I heard somethin about some strawberry cupcakes afterwards.”

Niecey got closer to them and took a few more pictures. “Y’all look good for a wedding where mostly toys were invited.” 

Annie shook her head in amusement. “I didn’t know they’d be here either. They bet not expect a cupcake after this.”

“Mommy, you have to go back and wait until Sammie starts singing,” Andie pushed at her mama’s legs so she’d walk down the hallway. “Wait, get the flowers that Papa got you.” She ran to the dining room to grab the bouquet and give them to her. 

Everyone took their places while Sammie strummed a few notes before starting to play the melody to “For You” by Kenny Lattimore.

While waiting for Sammie to start singing, Annie felt a rush of giddiness at the thought of marrying Elijah. She knew the first time she did it she wanted to run down the aisle but took carefully measured steps so she didn’t seem to eager. She tried to do the same this time knowing it was only a short walk from the hallway to the living room. Once she turned the corner and saw the look on her husband’s face, her feet glided to him.

Elijah took his wife’s hands in his and every feeling he ever felt since he laid eyes on her the first time came flowing through him. He thought of all they had been through together and all they still had yet to approach and felt his throat tighten as his cousin crooned softly. This was beyond luck or blessings, this was destiny and he was grateful it was kind to him.

Once Sammie finished his song, Angel and Andie stood up as the officiants of the ceremony. 

Angel pretended to clear her throat. “Everybody, my mama and papa love each other a lot. They want to be together forever. Mommy likes to kiss Papa all the time.”

This caused the adults in the room to chuckle.

“And Papa likes to kiss Mommy’s feet sometimes too,” Andie chimed in.

Annie hung her head in shame wondering if Andie would ever forget the time she walked in on Elijah with her toes in his mouth. “Only when they hurt.”

“Papa do you love Mommy? And do you want to give her lots of flowers?”

Grinning, Elijah nodded. “Yes, I love Mommy. I’ll give her anything she wants.”

“Mommy, do you want to kiss Papa forever so he won’t be a frog no more?”

“Yes?” Annie was confused but decided to go along with it. “Yes, I wanna kiss Papa forever.”

“You now can get married,” Angel declared and clapped her hands in delight. When her parents just stood looking at each other she cleared her throat. “You gotta kiss to get married!”

Laughing off his daughter’s bossy attitude, Elijah pulled his wife in for a kiss. He wanted to deepen it but decided to tone it down in front of company. “I hope you ready for the wedding night, Boss, ” he whispered in her ear.

“Ain’t you glad you’re not a frog anymore?” Annie giggled.

“I don’t even know how I got to be a frog in the first damn place but I do feel like a new man, bein’ married to you.” He dipped her down and kissed her again.

*********

After the wedding, everyone except the toys gathered in the dining room for cupcakes.

“Congratulations to the happy couple!” Sammie raised his glass of milk. “It only took ten years and three kids but y’all finally made it legal.”

“Next thing you know, they’ll be droppin’ another one on us,” Elias joked not catching the way Elijah and Annie eyed each other.

“And now I know who to book to plan my wedding,” Niecey winked at Angel and Andie. 

“Oh yeah, you will be up next. Here.” Annie handed her the bouquet. “So I don’t have to throw it out to a crowd of stuffed animals.”

Andie let out a big yawn and pushed away her half-eaten cupcake. Eli had already fallen asleep and was resting in his Papa’s arms. 

“Sounds like it’s bedtime for somebody.” Elias grabbed the rest of the cupcake. “More for ya uncle.” He shoved it into his mouth before anyone could protest.

Not caring, Andie rubbed her eyes and yawned again. “I gotta go get ready for bed.”

“You need any help, Ladybug?”

“No, Papa.”

Annie pulled her daughter close and kissed her forehead. “Okay, just brush your teeth and put on your night clothes. You’ll have to get up earlier for a bath.”

“That was greedy, uncle Elias!” Angel pouted obviously wanting the piece he ate. 

“That was greedy, Elias,” Annie agreed. “Now you gotta make up for it somehow.”

Angel held out her little hand to him and without needing to say a word, waited until he pulled a five dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to her. “Thank you, uncle Elias!” She stood and hugged her uncle and high-fived her mama before skipping to the back.

“That girl gotta have more money than me by now,” Elias grumbled.

“She definitely will someday. Gon’ have more money than all of us.” Elijah said proudly. “Thank y’all for comin on short notice. I hope we ain’t interrupt y’all’s plans with this shotgun wedding.”

Elias shook his head. “Nah, we ain’t have much happening.”

“Not when he heard Annie was baking something we didn’t.” Niecey rolled her eyes. “But this was really cute. I hope our kids do somethin’ like this for us.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed and she looked closely at Niecey, noting subtle changes. “Girl!” She jumped up and hugged her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “We gotta go shoppin’! What colors you thinkin?”

Niecey smiled brightly. “Maybe a mint green or some shade of green. I don’t know. You gotta tell me what to do and how this gon’ be.”

“Girl,” Annie pointed to her stomach. “I need to know how this is gon’ be. Twins!”

“Aye!” Sammie said surprised. “Y’all tryna catch up to my mama and daddy?”

“Wait, what’s goin’ on?” Elias was confused before it clicked. “Twins? Like—” He gestured between him and his brother. “Damn! Y’all tryna build a lil NBA team over here?”

“Trying,” Elijah winked at his wife.

********

The couple laid in bed facing each other; the glow of their lamps illuminating their features. “I kinda wish they had let us give our vows.” Elijah ran his hand down Annie’s arm.

“What would you have said if they did?”

Looking at his wife for a moment, Elijah smiled. “That every moment with you is like a thousand years in paradise. With you, I feel how the moon must feel when it orbits around the earth—it’s a celestial connection with you, baby. I wished on a million stars and a hundred birthday candles and you’re every single one of those wishes come true. I don’t just love you because you a good wife and a good mother. That would be too easy. I love you when you get mad at me and you just don’t want to talk because even then you’ll lean your head against my chest just so you can feel my heartbeat.

"I love you when you get stubborn because I know you still have things that you passionate about. I could count so many of my faults and you’d come back with a list twice as long of all the things you love about me. Seeing your body change to bring life into this world and seeing you get older, knowing I’m getting old with you make me feel things I can hardly express. I love you, Annie Moore, and I hope I can meet half of the expectations you have of me because I know you have exceeded mine.” Tears fell from his eyes as he finished vows.

Annie’s eyes became blurry as the words sunk in. She reached over and wiped the tears from her husband’s eyes. “Well thank goodness you didn’t say that in front of everybody.” Wiping a stray tear from her eye, she pressed herself closer to him. “I would’ve jumped on you in that living room.”

His hand eased down to the apex of her thighs. “Oh really?” He nipped at her neck.

“Mhm,” Annie nodded. “It’s no wonder I’m always pregnant. You just say stuff like that and my legs automatically open.”

“Well, they gon’ stay open again tonight since we have a lot to celebrate.” He flipped them over so that he was on top of her. “Let’s see how long you can last, Mrs. Moore.”

**********

A/N: I've been working on a lil bit of different stories at a time. I hope to have "You Mine, Ain't You?" done in the next week but I'll be traveling for work so it may be the week after that. Also putting up more of my abandoned fic (the arranged marriage one). Also almost done with the angst one. I wanna focus on the NOLA one because I have too many thoughts about it.

Her fingers dig into his hair as he kisses lower, right above her waistband.

“You like seeing me like this,” she says, half-teasing.

“I fucking love it,” he answers, standing again. “You’re carrying my baby, Annie. You have no idea what that does to me.”

She arches into him as he lifts her shirt off entirely, then her bra. Her breasts are fuller now, heavier. He palms one gently, thumb brushing over her nipple until she gasps.

“Sensitive,” she pants.

“Let me take care of you.”

She nods, already breathless. “Bed. Now.”

He scoops her up like she weighs nothing. She lets out a startled laugh, arms around his neck, forehead resting against his shoulder.

“You’re gonna throw your back out one of these days.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

He lays her down gently, like she’s something sacred. And maybe she is.

Annie watches him strip, slow, deliberate. She bites her lip when he drops his boxers, dick already hard, thick and pulsing.

“Get over here,” she says, voice gone hoarse.

Smoke climbs between her thighs, hands spreading her knees apart. He settles between them, but pauses, eyes dragging down her body like he’s memorizing it all over again.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, one hand sliding down to cup her between her legs. “So fucking perfect like this. Full of me.”

She whines softly, rocking her hips into his hand.

“Don’t say shit like that unless you’re gonna fuck me.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to hers. “But I’m gonna take my time. You’re so wet already, baby.”

He slips two fingers inside, slow and steady. Her walls clench around him.

“Jesus,” she gasps. “You’re killing me.”

“I haven’t even started.”

He curls his fingers just right and watches her fall apart beneath him, hips rolling, one hand fisting the sheets. Her moans are louder now, less restrained.

“Come on, Annie,” he whispers. “Show me how much you want it.”

She’s shaking, breathless, close—and then she comes with a sharp cry, clenching tight around his fingers.

He kisses her belly again while she catches her breath.

“Elijah…” she whispers. “Please. I need you inside me.”

He doesn’t make her beg twice. Lines himself up, pushes in slow, groaning as her heat swallows him.

“Fuck—still so tight,” he moans. “Even now. Shit, baby.”

Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Don’t hold back,” she murmurs. “I can take it.

He thrusts hard but careful, setting a rhythm that has the bed creaking. One hand grips her hip, the other pressing to the mattress by her head.

“You feel this?” he grits out. “How deep I am? It’s like your body still wants more. Still wants me to fill you up.”

“God, yes,” she moans, back arching. “You always fuck me like you’re trying to put another one in me.”

“Damn right I do,” he pants. “You look so fucking good carrying my kid. I’d keep you like this forever.”

Her breath stutters. He sees it—the way those words hit her.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers.

“I do,” he mutters, fucking her deeper, slower. “I’d put a ring on you right now. Keep you pregnant, barefoot, and moaning my name every damn day.”

“Mghn, Elijah—”

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” he asks, his control starting to fray. “Let me fuck you full again and again. Because you’re mine.”

She’s shaking beneath him, clawing at his back.

“Yes. Yours,” she gasps. “All yours.”

That’s it. He loses it. Slams into her harder, chasing his own release.

“Gonna fill you up again,” he groans. “Doesn’t matter if you’re already full. Gonna give you more. Fuck—Annie—”

She holds onto him like she’s afraid to let go.

“Do it,” she cries. “Come inside. I want it—ah!—Fill me up.”

With a broken sound, he thrusts once more and spills inside her, hips jerking, dick pulsing as he groans her name.

They stay like that for a long time—his chest pressed to hers, he's still buried deep, both of them soaked in sweat and breathless. Smoke shifts only enough to make sure he’s not crushing her, but he doesn’t pull out. He won’t. Not yet.

His hand moves slowly over the curve of her belly, fingers splayed wide like he's anchoring himself there.

Annie rubs his head, soft and slow, like she knows he needs it. “You okay?” she murmurs, voice rasped and warm.

He hums, nose buried against her neck. “Yeah. You?”

“I’m sore,” she admits. “But good sore.”

He lifts his head just enough to look at her. There’s something in his eyes—something soft, something undone.

“I didn’t go too rough?”

“No,” she says, brushing a thumb across his jaw. “You always know how to touch me.”

He leans into her hand, eyes fluttering shut. Then he presses a kiss to her collarbone, slow and reverent.

"Stay right there,” he says, finally pulling out with a groan. She hisses softly at the stretch, at the heat that slips out of her.

“God, that’s messy,” she mutters, glancing down.

“I like it messy,” he says, grinning against her skin. “Means we both liked it.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her.

He disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, returning with a warm washcloth and a bowl of water. He cleans her gently, careful and slow like he’s afraid she’ll break.

Annie watches him in silence, that familiar ache blooming in her chest—the kind that comes when she lets herself believe this version of him might actually stay.

When he finishes, he pulls the blankets up around them and curls himself around her from behind, hand resting over her stomach again like it belongs there.

“Getting protective, huh?” she teases, threading their fingers together.

“Was always protective,” he murmurs into her shoulder. “Now I’m territorial.”

She snorts. “Oh, that’s healthy.”

He grins. “Hush up.”

They lie like that until her stomach growls—loud, demanding. Smoke laughs against her skin.

“Guess someone’s hungry.”

“Someone is two people,” she groans, pushing herself up slowly. “And both of them need dinner.”

He watches her move, eyes dragging over her curves, the swell of her belly, the mess of her hair. There’s no way she doesn’t know he’s staring.

“You’re gonna just watch me waddle around the kitchen, huh?”

“Yep.”

ໂ

She tosses him a pair of pants and pulls on one of his T-shirts—oversized and worn, hanging off one shoulder. He thinks she looks better in it than he ever did.

The kitchen smells like stew and potatoes. Annie’s standing barefoot by the stove, stirring a pot with an almost serene look on her face.

Smoke leans against the counter, sipping water and soaking her in like he still can’t believe she’s real.

“I used to think about this,” he says quietly.

She glances back. “What?”

“This. You. In my shirt. Cooking while our kid kicks around inside you.”

She freezes for half a second—just enough to let him know it hits her deep.

Then she sets the spoon down and turns to face him.

“Don’t say that if you’re gonna disappear again.”

His jaw clenches. He crosses the space between them in two strides and cups her face in his hands.

“I’m not going anywhere, Annie.”

“You say that now.”

“I mean it now.” He kisses her—slow, lingering, like a promise sealed with heat. “Let me prove it. Every damn day if I have to.”

Her breath hitches. She presses her forehead to his.

“You already are.”

They eat together in quiet, the kind of quiet that feels safe. His hand never leaves her—resting on her thigh, her hip, the curve of her belly.

And for the first time in a long while, she lets herself believe it. That maybe he’s not just here... maybe he’s finally home.

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈

Dividers by @haecunt

First, he was woke out of his sleep at 2 in the morning to get to Eastside Juke Joint to bust the knees on some petty little pill dealers with the gall to try and do business in a SmokeStack twin property. 

Then barely got back home to sleep at 4 am, when he was back up again to meet Bo at his warehouse for an inventory meeting at 6 am. 

Then Smoke was called to race over and saved Stack from some crazy lover tossing him out her house naked at 10 am. 

Both brothers then had a late lunch and real estate meetings from 1 pm to 6 pm with too many fucking honkies to stay sane. 

Now here it was, 7pm and he was finally back home. He takes a whole ten minutes savoring that cigarette smoked ‘inside’ the house before spraying himself down in sandalwood cologne and heading inside. Smoke fixes himself a big roast beef sandwich, pops open a cold beer and settles into his recliner. He turns on the tv, letting it stay on random cartoon reruns his girls were watching before they left, not really paying attention, just thankful some noise was accompanying him. 

Smoke only gets through two thirds of his beer and just over half of the sandwich before leaning back and dozing off. 

He’s only out for 12 minutes before the keys jiggling in the door and the chaos of excited sandaled feet hitting the wooden floor rouses him. Smoke only gets a moment to blink before instinctively catching the first of his girls to reach him.

“Poppa!” Smoke hums through a tired smile at the little sweet rasp of his youngest girl, 4 year old Analise. A chubby little thang with cedar skin and Annie’s big doe eyes. She is still firmly in the bobbles and barretts on twists phase, Smoke’s neck becoming casualty to them when she snuggles her head under his chin.

“We went skating! Then we was shopping an-and we got the fancy pasta at Olive’s house an-and snowcones! I gotta big ole mango one!” Analise babbles about the day they had all had. 

“We got a passion for fashion!” sings twin melodies. Smoke chuckles through kissing Analise's head as his nine year old twins, Eliza and Aaliyah dance down the hall with their arms loaded with shopping bags. Just like Smoke and Stack, the two were identical, deeply brown skinned cuties with mismatch gap tooth smiles and coffee colored eyes. Annie often called them two vanilla beans with the ability to sass.

Once the two girls surrounded either side of Smoke they bent in to kiss either of his cheeks in greeting. Smoke braces back with a smile as now his nose and forehead are casualty to their beads (Eliza in pink, Aaliyah in orange) bapping him before they run off towards the hallway bathroom.

“C’mon Lili we gotta do our fashion show!” Eliza cheerily commands, before she ducks into the bathroom first. 

“Hurry up so we can pick our songs AnaBabe!” Aaliyah instructs next before ducking in. 

“Fashion show?” Smoke asks sleepily and Analise nods frantically as she holds her father’s face.

“Yeah poppa, ya gotta watch out show ‘cus ya invited! We gots little brother a part too! Stay right ‘ere!” Analise instructs sternly before hopping off his lap and running to join her older sisters in the bathroom.

Smoke sits there stuck, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes and his hands still open from where Analise once was. It’s prime real estate for Annie to plop their youngest into his father’s arms to release the weight off her chest. Ethan squeals in excitement, his chubby hands grabbing the edge of Smoke’s plate. Smoke is quick to move, but not quick enough as the 10 month old now has a handful of roast beef and mustard splatters on Smoke hand and Ethan’s face. 

“Boy!” Smoke scolds playfully, Smoke is barely able to wrestle the meat out his Ethan’s strong little fist. Only being able to grab it once Ethan brought it to his mouth, the little boy is only able to steal a small bite before letting his father have it back. 

“Annie, can ya-oh.” Smoke pauses to see he was alone with his son. He heaves a grumpy sigh, “Look at ya boy! Justa mess.” Smoke tells Ethan. The baby lets off a trill of laughter, kicking his little legs at his father’s words. Smoke brings Ethan in close then licks the mustard off his fat cheeks, making Ethan squeal again and twists his head to kiss back. Smoke chuckles at the slobbery kiss Ethan plants on Smoke’s chin before pulling back, using the end of Ethan’s bid to wipe both of their faces. 

“Yeah, a bath finna be critical for you son.” Smoke tells him, tapping Ethan’s wide button nose, making Ethan blink in surprise. 

“The music!” Aaliyah hollars, Smoke grins to see her wrapped in a giant towel to hide her outfit as she grabs the roku remote and goes to Youtube. 

“You gotta do the playlist we made in the car, Sister!” Eliza yells from the bathroom.

Aaliyah nods firmly and pulls up the playlist. She then turns back to her father and hands him the remote.

“Okay poppa, you the Dj and ya gotta play our music when we come out. Okay?” Smoke nods with an affirmative grunt and Aaliyah races back to the bathroom. 

“Wait! Bubba’s ‘fit!” Analise says. She too was wrapped in a large towel, nearly tripping over it as she places a beanie on Ethan then scurrying back to the bathroom and closing the door.

“Bapa?” Ethan says in confusion, he turns his head and Smoke snickers to see that Analise had pulled the beanie down so much it covered the poor boy's eyes. It is cute, lined with beige satin on the inside and a fluffy black exterior with little teddy bear ears on top. Smoke pulls it back until Ethan can see again and the baby burps.

Annie appears, moomoo on and face clean of make up. She smiles at the pair of them, taking a moment to pull out her phone and take a picture of her two favorite boys in the recliner before taking the baby. Annie pauses, and take a smell of Ethan before raising an eyebrow at Smoke. 

“Why my baby smell like mustard?” She chuckles and Smoke groans but it morphs into a big yawn. 

“Cus the little nigga greedy. He tore up the other half of my sandwich and only got seven teeth.” Smoke says, ducking when Annie flicks his ear before kissing Smoke’s temple. 

“You ready for the fashion show?” Annie hums and Smoke leans up to kiss her back. 

“Almost.” Smoke says. Annie giggles when he pulls her close, making Annie sit on his lap and Ethan cheers again. Smoke scoots back, letting the footrest of the chair up so they all had more room. He wraps his arms around Annie middle then rests his chin on her shoulder so he could peer around his woman. 

“How much this show cost?” Smoke asks and Annie smirks. 

“Only 300. Eliza kept us on budget.” Annie relays and Smoke hums sleepily.

“That’s my lil banker. I’m gonna have her play the stocks for me, next.” he jokes.

“Dj! We ready for the music!” Eliza hollers from the bathroom. Annie pats Smoke cheek before pulling out her phone and readying to record. The clean version of Umbrella by Rihanna starts to play and Annie bites in a giggle.

“First on the runway! Analise Baby Moore!” Aaliyah introduces. Ethan claps and giggles when his big sister stomps around the corner, her hands on her hips, head held high as daisy shaped sunglasses block her eyes.

Analise struts forward into the living room with strong steps, she wears hot pink rainboots with white leggings under a pink overall dress covered in white embroidered spirals. She wears a white shirt under it all covered in a pale pink raincoat. Analise does a dramatic spin with her arms out to show off the glittery lining of the raincoat prompting Smoke to hum in interest. Analise sharply turns to the side she gives her parents and the camera a wink before tossing her hood up, revealing the pink bunny ears attached to the hood.

“Oh wow AnaBabe! Ain’t you a pink princess.” Smoke awes. Warmth blooming in his chest with Analise grins proudly, hands back to her hips with a little peppy step.

“Babygirl don’ found her color, Elijah!” Annie warns, both grinning over Analise.

“I found my shoes and my rain jacket first poppa, all by myself in the mall! Then me and Sissy found my dress at Kohl's and momma made me get the leggings and stuff to go unders it. And Sister helps me find the sunglasses and I gotta umbrella that match too! But momma said I can’t open it in the house. So tomorrow we gotta go to the park and I can show you!” Analise explains as her shoulder shimmy and she stomps in her new boots. 

“Yes ma’am.” Smoke promises causing Analise to preen and giggle at the promise of a daddy daughter date of just the two of them. Analise continues to strut and pose, promoting her parents to ohh and ahh while Ethan screeches in delight. Soon Analise’s song ends and the pink girl bows then races back to the bathroom before Smoke and Annie can applaud.  

Once she is gone, Smoke groans tiredly, letting the full weight of his sleepy head rest upon Annie’s shoulder. She hums as while patting his head. 

“Want me to pause your fashion show?” Annie asks, Smoke grunts and shakes his head no. 

“Nah, I can hang. The girls are gonna be too excited to go to bed themselves if we cut they show short.” He rationalizes and Annie nods in agreement.

“Dj!” Aaliyah yells next and Smoke hits play on the next song.  Law & Order By BigXthaPlug booms through the speakers. 

“Next on the runway! Sheriff Aaliyah Moore!” Eliza announces. Smoke can’t help but snicker into Annie's neck at the sight of Aaliyah strutting around the corner on beat in teal cowgirl boots, tipping and tapping so you could hear the echo of wooden bootheels on the floor.

Aaliyah wears a pair of light denim jeans with a dramatic ruffle flare at the bottom and the side seams detailed with black cross stitching. A black belt with a big buckle with the letter A bold in silver and turquoise. Her top is a white bandana patterned long sleeve under a long distressed denim vest. Annie pinches Smoke's thigh as he shakes to hold in his laughter at the big ass tan cowgirl hat on his baby’s head. 

“Why ain’t you-”

“She hid it until check out, then whipped out her own money to buy it. Said Uncle Stack told her to always have a statement piece.” Annie whispers sharply. 

“Go ahead baby, Poppa’s Rodeo Queen!” Smoke cheers as Aaliyah tips her hat, starting to cross her legs and sway dramatically to the beat. In a slo mo turn she makes sure to show off the fact that a cursive letter A was bedazzled on the back of the hat in white crystals.

“Okay, hat!” Annie hollers. Aaliyah looks over her shoulder and gives them a big wink and shoots off a finger gun. 

“And all I need now, daddy… is to find us a rodeo and ride us some ponies.” Aaliyah requests, Smoke gives her a resigned look that makes her smirk. “Catcha at the stables!” Aaliyah struts back as the music fades to the soft applause of her parents and Ethan, 

Smoke lets out a big yawn again, enough to press against Annie, forcing himself to stretch back so he’d get enough air to huff out. Annie half-turns giving him a look concern, that he waves off by kissing her cheek. 

“Sandman, ain’t gonna snag me yet.” he assures her, despite the soft click of his jaw as he hides the next yawn. He rests his eyes for a second, flinching when Analise hollers for the Dj again. 

Smoke clicks next, Brown Skin Girl by Beyonce streams out the speakers. 

“Last on the runway, Empa-ress E-lie-za Mo’!” Analise announces. Eliza turns the corner, holding a dramatic pause to undo her bathrobe and let it fall to the floor to reveal her outfit. It is a baby blue dress with a milkmaid top framed with long sheer sleeves that feathered out at the end. The top merged into flowy layers of tulling cascading down to Eliza’s ankles, glittering flowers dotting all over it. Eliza accessories with a pair of dainty silver sandals and jewelry all over.

A diamond heart necklace, matching silver bracelets, dainty band rings on every finger of her right hand, small diamond studs in her ears, and even a tiara sitting prim and proper on her head. 

Smoke’s jaw drops at the sight of his eldest as she walks down the hall with grateful strides, she looks right into his eyes, beaming with excitement for her daddy to see her. Eliza can’t help but sway to the music, once she was properly in the room she starts to twirl, letting all the tulle layers flow and fly around her like a flower bloom. 

“Oh my goodness, Za! You’re so pretty!” Annie coos. 

“We in the presence of royalty Annie, Beautiful!” Smoke says, his tiredness pushed aside in favor of awing his favorite girls. Eliza spins against the other way before curtsying like she saw Brandy do in Cinderella. She shines him with another huge smile and Smoke quickly wipes his eyes. 

‘Thank you!” Eliza says, “Now if we getta go to the Fairy Faire on my birthday, we can meet more empresses!” Eliza offers. Smoke smiles, shaking his head in disbelief as each one of his girls had wrapped their looks in a request to take their daddy for an outing. Smoke hums, rubbing his chin in fake contemplation.

“Perhaps.” Smoke gives to her, already calculating ticket prices, giving her a little wink confirming their plans. Eliza flounces up with a grin and sways away back to the bathroom. Annie stops recording and stands with a shake of her head. 

“And you wonder why they spoiled. Blessed the boy that can attempt to impress them one day.” Annie comments.

“Good! You jealous I got three dates in a row Annie?” Smoke argues back, any teasing tone crumbling as he yawns against his will once more. Annie grins as he starts to bounce Ethan when he fusses at being moved.

“Nah, just feeling pity for that wallet of yours. I ain’t worry aboutcha too much, more excuse for me and E-Man to sit pretty in the pool. Ain’t that right handsome?” Annie offers, kissing his cheek and making Ethan giggle. Smoke settles back as he watches the two of them. Warmth filling his chest at the sight. What was the point of being a rich man if he ain’t spending it? 

“Hol’ on, I gotta get a wipe. I forgot you let my baby season himself with mustard.” Annie chides and Smoke gives a weak chuckle.

“He’s head chef.” 

Annie goes off to the nursery. Only gone 10 minutes to wipe Ethan's face, change his diaper and place him in pj’s. She comes back to find the all three girls back in their night gowns and gathered around their father. Annie hid her snicker behind her hand, flushing when all three girls shush her. Annie is quick to take another picture. 

Smoke was knocked the fuck out. Absolutely gone, with his head thrown back, body completely loose as he snores away. Annie quietly shoos her girls out, herding them upstairs to their rooms. Eliza paues in ehr doorway, a slight frown on her face. 

“But momma, you ain’t get to show daddy the outfit ya got at your secret store!” Eliza says in concern. Annie swallows as the look of herself in that royal blue lacy corset and sheet thong combo she bought at Adore crosses her mind. 

Annie pats Eliza’s head, kisses her forehead goodnight before coaxing Eliza into her bedroom.

“Dontcha worry baby, once poppa gets some rest, Momma’s gonna make sure he gets a fashion show from me too.”

Annie Fashion Show😈😝

-- -- -- -- --

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After multiple missed calls, unanswered messages and a long week tending to patients at the hospital, Annie just wanted a night with her girls. She had to get off this rollercoaster Smoke had her on but even the thought had her heart sinking to her stomach. It had been ten months since they reconnected and the feelings that Annie felt as a teen after Smoke held her the first time came bubbling up like a vat of acid. 

His touch still made her toes curl and her head swim. His body pressed into hers was still the safest and the most wanted she ever felt. But why couldn’t he just show up like she needed? Why, after five years of being apart, was she still competing with his twin brother or whatever grind they had going? After he promised this time would be different. And it was, for the first six months. But the meticulously planned dinners and the expensive gifts couldn’t replace what Annie needed now and what Annie needed was Smoke and once her request to have a night in went unanswered, she decided to switch gears.

A little after 7 o’clock that evening, Annie was slathering herself in her favorite cocoa body butter and singing along to whatever popped up on shuffle. She smirked when “Real Affair” by TianaMajor9 started playing. She took a strong puff from her THC vape and let the blueberry crumble smoke fill the bathroom with a relaxing sigh. As she was pulling out her make-up and brushes, she heard a loud knock at the front door followed by three quick rings to her doorbell. “Who the fuck is this beatin on my door like the damn police?” With a huff, she tightened her robe and went to check. A quick look in the peephole had her rolling her eyes while unlocking the door. “Nigga, why the fuck you doing all that for?” She swung the door open and walked away, not even wanting to look at his fine ass face.

“Why you ain’t been answering yo phone?” Smoke slammed the door closed behind him. “I called you two times.” He followed her back to her bedroom.

Annie chuckled humorlessly and sat on her bed. “Oh, you know how to call now? I been calling and texting you for the last two days and you ain’t see me show up beatin yo door down.” She crossed her arms across her chest and stared at him.

Smoke had the nerve to look guilty. “I told you we was gone be busy tryna get these materials for the club. Everything good to go so the contractors can start next week.” He looked beside where an outfit was laid out. “Where we about to go?”

“We? Nigga, when you start speaking French? I am going out with Cici and Jazz. You can go wherever the hell you wanna go, Smoke. I’m good for tonight.” Even while saying those words her eyes drank in his muscular form clad in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. His gold chain glistened against his pecan brown skin.

Smoke stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “Woman, you ain’t about to go nowhere lookin like sin without me.” He held up the red satin corset top. “Who you tryna get cute for?”

She snatched the corset out of his hand. “Me, nigga! You ain’t got to worry about what I’m doing tonight. Go on back with ya brother.” Annie moved to get off the bed but was stopped by Smoke moving closer and effectively blocking her path. Even without him touching her she felt a flutter between her thighs. The THC from her vape heightened every sensation in her body but she knew she couldn’t let him off easily.

Holding the bridge of his nose like he had lost his patience with the way this conversation was going. “Woman, I had to handle business. I should’ve sent you a text, I’m sorry, but you know how it is right now.” He slowly moved closer to Annie pulled her legs apart and stepped between them. “I ain’t lettin you go out like that anyway, Ma.” He planted a gentle kiss beneath her ear before he was shoved back.

Everything below Annie’s neck was screaming to let him continue but she couldn’t keep doing this with him. “Smoke, if this was the only time—hell, if this was only the third time you’ve done this, I would believe you. I know you have a lot going on with opening the club but that ain’t the issue.” She stood up and nudged him to the side so she could go into the bathroom to retrieve her vape.

Smoke remained rooted where she left him with his eyes tracking her every movement. “Baby, you know stuff like this takes time. I’m not tryna give you excuses and I damn sure ain’t about to let you go. For the next three weeks, Stack will take the lead and talk to everybody and I’ll do the paperwork. We can go somewhere and just chill.” He walked up to her as she blew a cloud of scented smoke in his face. “So that’s what we doin?” He snatched the vape out of her hand and turned it around. “You gettin’ high and about to let other niggas all up in yo shit.”

Annie reached for her vape but Smoke kept moving it out of her reach. “Fuck you, Smoke! It ain’t about other niggas! It really ain’t about you either.” She jumped and knocked the cartridge out of his hand and watched it land on the carpet with a soft thud. For some reason, that angered her more than him not responding to her calls and still showing up like he had some kind of ownership over her. She shoved him towards the door. “Please leave, Smoke! This ain’t workin for me, it obviously ain’t workin for you either! We tried this before and it didn’t work then because you the same fuckin’ person you always been!” Her high was officially blown. Her heart was breaking as each word left her lips. 

Smoke grabbed her hands and held them to his chest. “Annie, this ain’t like before! We got something good goin and I’m tryna make something great for us! You ain’t seein the vision right now but you will!” His heart was racing against his words as he looked into her eyes. “Cut all this out and let’s chill for the next three weeks.” He pulled her in and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Annie didn’t know how he expected her to just accept this. She wanted him—not all the time—just consistently. Enough that she didn’t have to wonder if she was still his and his actions made her wonder that a lot lately. “And when we’re done ‘chillin’ for three weeks, then what? Huh? You do the same thing and show up with a gift and some weak-ass apology sex?” Annie didn’t see his reaction before she felt it in the way his grip tightened on her arms. She made a feeble attempt to pull away but he pulled her closer.

The scowl on his face let Annie know that Smoke was beyond reason right now and she had better tread lightly. Unfortunately, she was just as stubborn as he was and was not about to back down easily. “Aye, run that shit by me again, Ma.” There was no humor or pleading in his tone.

The previous bravado Annie held in her chest vanished but she had a point to prove so she gave him what he asked for. “You heard me. You ain’t gone change, you just gone show up with some weak—” She was cut off by her body being lifted off the ground and carried to her bed. He held her like she weighed nothing at all but the fullness of her figure was evidence to the contrary. “Eek!” A squeak escaped her as she was dropped on the neatly made mattress. “Smoke, I was just—” She tried to plead her case.

In no mood to hear her out, Smoke flipped her over and lifted her robe to expose her silky, round ass. Two sharp swats echoed through the room along with a whine from Annie’s lips. “Now, you can be mad at me for not being here when you want me to but you let that mouth get away from ya.” He took off his clothes opting to leave on his gold chain. He ran his fingers in between her pussy lips to confirm what he already knew. “Shit, Ma. I see why you got this attitude. Shit leakin like the Titanic.” He pushed one finger in drawing out a loud moan from Annie. “And you was finna go out like this? Nah, yo friends ain’t gone see you tonight.” He added another finger.

Annie tried to make sense of what he was saying but the way his fingers were moving in her, turned her brain to jelly. She clenched her walls and tried to grind back to meet his movements but was met with another hard slap on her ass. “Shit! Smoke, baby, please!”

“Nah, what you call my shit? Weak, wasn’t it? You don’t do shit unless I tell you, now stay still.” He pumped his fingers into her watching her juices flow down his arm. He moved faster pulling out louder noises from his girl. The sounds from her mouth and pussy had him harder than a geometry test but he had to teach her something first. He felt her walls clench as a sure sign she was reaching her peak and then he pulled his fingers out before she could reach it.

Disappointment couldn’t describe what Annie was feeling as she felt Smoke remove his fingers and her walls clench round nothing when she was so close. Crying in frustration she pulled her knees under her and stuck her ass out. Her face remained in the on the bed as fresh tears dripped down her face. “Please, baby! Fuck!” She shook her wide hips from side to side hoping to entice him to continue. Again, she was met with two quick slaps that only served to send more of her essence rushing out of her. How the fuck was he able to get the upper hand so fast? 

“Now you beggin for my shit, huh? I thought it was weak?” Smoke obviously found amusement in her desperation. He teased her clit with those same two fingers and laughed like a villain when she cried out and pushed back for more friction. He slapped her ass three times watching her chocolate tone begin to bloom red from all the times he had to show her who was in control. He brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted her. The flavors spread across his tastebuds and the sensation went right to his dick. He wished he could bottle it up but he knew it wouldn’t taste as good as it did straight from the tap. “Mmm-mm! Taste good, Ma, you know how I like it.” He moved in close to her pussy and stuck his tongue in like he was starving and it was the last meal he would ever eat. His tongue worked expertly inside her lapping up all the juices that wouldn’t stop flowing. “Fuck, woman! Tasting like this and having that smart ass mouth. And you was just gone let another nigga think he had a chance. I’m locking this shit down!” He sucked her clit in his mouth and stuck two fingers back inside her.

A sheen of sweat covered Annie’s skin as she felt the pressure building in her. His tongue danced with her clit as he sucked on it harder and pushed his fingers in deeper. She was close again so she kept as still as she could hoping Smoke would reward her obedience. Just as her vision blurred and her legs stiffened, Smoke stopped again. “No, no, no, no, no! Please, Smoke! I didn’t mean it!” Tears flooded her eyes as she ached for relief.

Smoke flipped her over to her back and held himself above her. He took pleasure in hearing her beg and watching tears stain her pretty face. “You ain’t gotta cry now, Ma. I told you about that smart ass mouth and where it will get you.” He roughly kissed her making sure she knew how good she tasted. While sucking her tongue, he untied her robe and pulled it off of her. He used one hand to brace himself above her and the other to pull at her stiff nipples. He rolled them around in his fingers loving the sounds she made when he did it. 

He moved down to suck them into his mouth careful not to overdo it because Annie would come just from having them sucked hard enough. He listened to her needy pants as he planted kisses on her heavy breasts. The perfect size to smother him if Annie ever saw fit and he had to admit, it would be the perfect way to go. He sat back and spread her legs wide and grabbed his heavy manhood. He ran the tip up and down her slit, coating himself in her slick essence. “Fuck!” He was ready to just sink into her and finish them both off but he had to remind himself that he was on a mission. “Let’s see how weak my shit is when I got you speakin in tongues.” He slapped her clit with his dick making her cry out.

Annie looked down between them seeing her favorite part of him besides his smile glide up and down her slit causing more juices to flow out of her and onto her expensive duvet cover. “Big Daddy, please. I need it!” The fight in her voice had long left and was replaced by a raspiness from all the screaming and a desperate longing from Smoke’s teasing. “I’ll be good!”

Upon hearing the words he was waiting for, Smoke put her legs on his shoulders, lined his length up with her opening and pushed in. He couldn’t be any closer to heaven if god himself was in the room. He steadied himself and went to work pounding into Annie for all it was worth. “You know big daddy don’t play about what’s his. Imma work this shit until you can’t see straight.” He pulled out briefly to get off the bed and pull her to the edge. He entered her again and continued to crash his hips into hers; the slapping of their skin echoed through the room.

Annie wasn’t sure which way was up, she just knew it felt too good down below. “Yes, Big Daddy! This pussy needed you!” The pleasure between her legs, traveled all over her including to her fingertips which were gripping the duvet so hard she could’ve ripped a hole in it. She put them to use by squeezing on her nipples while Smoke was giving her everything she asked for. Her stomach tightened as he pounded into her and her walls gripped him so tight, he had to slow down. “Let me come, Big Daddy! Please, let me come!” 

A wicked smile crossed Smoke’s face as he rubbed her clit to push her over the edge. “Yeah, come for Big Daddy. Shit gripping me good. Woo!” He slowed his movements as her silky tunnel clenched around him and let out a stream of creamy juices. He stopped as she came down from her high, her entire body flushed and her chest heaving from the deep breaths she was taking. 

Trying to catch her breath, she wiped the tears from her eyes. Her pussy continued to pulse with aftershocks from her orgasm. Every part of her felt like it was floating. “Thank you, Big Daddy.” He hissed at the feeling of him pulling out and slapping her sensitive clit with the head of his dick. He gently placed both of her legs down so that they were hanging off the edge of the bed.

“I ain’t done, Ma,” Smoke said grabbing a pillow. “Move to the middle of the bed for me.”

Annie used every bit of energy she had to push herself back to the middle of the bed. She knew what was coming and got into position and lifted up as Smoke placed the pillow beneath her hips. She pulled her knees up to her chest giving Smoke a full view of her glistening opening.

Not being able to resist, Smoke dove in for another taste of her knowing she would be sweeter than before. He knew she was still sensitive from her first climax but he continued to suck on her clit until she gave him another. He smiled devilishly at her screams. “Needy ass with all that mouth. Now it can’t even make words can it?” He got on the bed and stroked himself a few times before pushing back into her soft tunnel, stretching her to her limits.

“Ugh! So deep, Big Daddy!” It was deeper than she could describe. She could feel him hitting her cervix it was a pain she’d have to acknowledge later though because he was also hitting her spot and she was pretty sure she started singing. His rapid thrusts were sending her to the edge again but she didn’t know how many more she could take. He had to be getting close too. “Come inside me, baby! I wanna feel it! I’m so close!” Again, her walls clenched as he rocked back and forth. Her toes curled and she could feel her legs shaking. 

The determined look on his face showed that he was not tired, not in the slightest. “Go ahead, mama, do what you need to. I got you.” He delivered a few more hard thrusts feeling that heaven-sent grip around him again. 

Annie’s face went slack after her third orgasm but as Smoke kept thrusting, she tried to pull back. Her overstimulated cunt had a mind of its own now as it spasmed through the beating it was taking. Smoke sped up his movements and pounded into her, giving her no time to catch her breath.

“Fuck, ma! Ain’t never letting this shit go! Out here talkin crazy like you was done with me.” Thrust. “Callin my shit weak!” Thrust. “You know I don’t play about this pussy!” Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. “I’m about to have you carrying my baby now, ma! Talk that shit when you make me a Sr.” He felt his balls tighten before coming deep inside her, knowing his seed was hitting every spot in her womb.

The feeling of Smoke’s cum inside her had Annie seeing stars as her fourth orgasm rocked through her. She could vaguely feel her legs being placed on the bed before she immediately fell asleep.

******

When she woke, it was still light outside and Smoke was laying beside her. She noticed she was under the covers and felt the most satisfying ache between her legs along with a full bladder. She slipped out of bed to go to the bathroom, grabbing her phone as she did. Once after relieving herself, she checked her phone and saw it was 6:33 am. What the fuck? That nigga fucked her to sleep for almost 12 hours?! He was never gonna let her forget this. She saw the twenty missed messages and 2 missed calls from Cici and Jazz. She checked the messages to see they initially started asking her if she was still coming out to letting her know that Smoke told them she would be sleep for the rest of the night to them teasing her about not being able to walk the next day. The last message was at 1 am from Jazz—a video of them drinking and dancing in their favorite nightclub. She rolled her eyes and laughed at her friends. 

Annie looked in the mirror and saw that Smoke had put her bonnet on to protect her braids. The thought of him caring that much nearly brought a tear to her eye. She looked into the mirror and noticed her face wasn’t covered in tear streaks like they usually were when she cried herself to sleep. She examined her face and saw that Smoke had wiped it too. Damn, he had me in a coma, I ain’t felt nothin! Warmth flooded her as she thought about how good it felt to be loved with intention.

She made her way back to bed after washing her hands, stepping gingerly as the pain between her legs was more noticeable. Her friends were likely right about her not being able to walk today. Smoke showed no mercy last night and she happily ate her words. She laid back in bed and cuddled up to Smoke. He immediately threw his arm around her and pressed his hard body against her back.

“Good morning, baby mama,” his voice deep and sleepy. He pulled her into him and rubbed her belly.

She laughed at him. “Boy, quit playing. You can shoot up the club however much you want to, ain’t no baby comin no time soon.”

He sat up like she just delivered life shattering news. “Fa’real?”

“Yeah, I got the IUD. Surprised you ain’t feel it with how deep you was in my shit last night.”

Smoke started kissing down her arm. “Well it’ll have to come out eventually. Imma give you a bunch of babies when it does.”

Snuggling deeper into him, she grabbed his hand. “Thank you for taking care of me last night, Big Daddy.” She kissed his hand. 

“I spoke with Stack last night after you went to sleep. Told him I had to take a step back for a little bit. Sammie can help him with the day-to-day and talking to the contractors while I handle the paperwork and licenses. Imma give you as much of me as I can. Almost made me go crazy, talkin about this ain’t workin.” He lavished her shoulder with kisses and hummed at the taste of her skin.

“That’s all I wanted, as much of you as I can get.” Annie turned in his arms to face him. “But I understand if you need to handle business, just don’t leave me out in the cold again.” She kissed his full lips and grabbed the back of his head to pull him closer. “I love you, Smoke.”

The Chevy C/K sat beneath a leaning pecan tree at the edge of the road, engine off, windows rolled halfway down. Mississippi night pressed close from every side. Thick. Damp. Full of insects crying out in the dark fields beyond the ditch line. Smoke had one arm hanging outside the driver’s window, his cigarette burning between his fingers while the radio glowed green across the dashboard. 

Marvin Gaye’s voice filled the cab like the smoke from his cigarette. Smooth. Hurting. Reaching. 

When you left, you took all of me with you…

Smoke shut his eyes. 

The song had been playing for damn near seven minutes already, but he couldn’t make himself turn the dial. Couldn’t move. Every word felt aimed straight at his chest like Marvin was somewhere in the dark talking only to him. 

Smoke leaned his head back against the seat and exhaled through his nose. Annie’s face kept rising up behind his eyelids anyway. The look she had given him before he walked outta that house. She didn’t get loud or scream. That would’ve been easier to take. 

Nah. 

It was the disappointed quiet that stayed on a man longer than a shout ever could. His thumb rubbed against the steering wheel while the strings climbed higher in the song. The ache in Marvin’s voice made the inside of the truck feel too small all of a sudden. 

Smoke thought about Annie standing in that kitchen earlier, yellow dress tied around her waist while grease popped in the skillet. Earth, Wind, & Fire had been playing from the radio on the counter. She’d asked him something simple. Asked if he was gonna be home tomorrow evening or running around with Stack again. 

Should’ve been an easy answer. 

Instead, he got sharp with her. Started talking like she was tryna control him when really all she wanted was time with her husband. 

Now here he sat in the dark like a fool while Marvin Gaye sang every feeling he’d been too hardheaded to say out loud. Smoke dragged the cigarette deep, then flicked it out of the open window into the treeline. His jaw tightened. 

The radio crackled faintly. 

Baby…baby, please…

“Damn,” Smoke whispered to himself. 

His throat burned suddenly, and it wasn’t from the cigarette. It was from truth. 

Because the song wasn’t just about missing somebody. It was about realizing too late that your pride done carries you someplace empty. And the longer he sat there, the more he could picture Annie alone in that house. Probably curled on that sofa with her arms folded under herself. Probably pretending she wasn’t waiting for headlights to pull back into the front yard. 

That woman loved him down to the marrow. 

Stayed with him through nightmares, bad moods, long silences, and hands that shook some nights when sleep wouldn’t come right. Annie knew parts of him nobody else got close enough to touch, and somehow she still looked at him with those beautiful pools of brown like he was the best thing to ever enter her life. Especially when she ain’t need him. She chose him. 

Smoke swallowed hard and looked down at the keys hanging from the ignition. Marvin’s voice climbed again, ragged and pleading, stretching across the night air like somebody refusing to let go. 

A slow exhale left Smoke’s chest. Then, he nodded to himself. 

“Aight,” he spoke quietly. “Aight.” 

He reached forward and turned the key. The truck rumbled alive beneath him while the song played low through the speakers. Gravel cracked under the tires as he pulled back onto the road, headlights cutting through the dark Mississippi trees. 

Back toward home. 

Back toward Annie. 

The backroads home stretched long beneath the Chevy tires. Two narrow ribbons of black cutting through the Delta while Marvin kept singing through the speakers. WDIA must’ve known what he was going through because they played Distant Lover again for those that missed it the first time. Smoke drove with one hand on the wheel and the other rested against his thigh, thumb tapping slow against his Wrangler jeans every now and then to the melody. 

The smell of wet red clay dirt drifted through the open windows along with honeysuckle and something green from the fields. Every so often, the headlights caught the silver flash of frogs leaping across the road or the pale glow of rabbit eyes vanishing into the brush. 

Smoke barely noticed any of it. His mind stayed on Annie. Stayed on the curve of her hips earlier that evening. The hurt she tried to hide in her voice. The way she had gone silent after he snapped at her. 

That had followed him all night. 

The truck bounced lightly over uneven pavement while he reached forward and turned the radio up just a little more. Marvin sounded torn clean open now. 

But every moment that I spend with you…I treasured it like it was precious jewels, oh, baby…

Smoke let out a dry breath through his nose. 

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “I hear you.” 

His hand tightened around the wheel. Truth was, he’d been carrying too much lately and letting it spill onto the wrong person. Stack had noticed it too. The short fuse. The pacing. The way Smoke has started sleeping less again. Some nights Annie would wake up and find him sitting on the edge of the bed staring into darkness like he forgot where he was. 

But, Annie never pushed. Never made him feel weep for it. 

She just stayed. 

That woman had held him together more times than he can count. And he knew better than to take that kind of love lightly. By the time he turned onto their dirt road, the cigarette smell had faded from his shirt some, replaced by night air pouring through the cab. The house came into view between the trees. Warm yellow light glowed through the front windows. 

Smoke’s chest tightened at the sight. 

Home. 

The truck rolled to a stop beside the porch with a crunch of gravel. Smoke cut the engine, but this time he didn’t sit there thinking. Didn’t stall. Marvin was still singing quietly while Smoke reached over. And shut the radio off altogether. 

Something I wanna say—

The porch light buzzed overhead while he climbed out the truck. Crickets screamed loud in the grass. Somewhere deeper in the fields, a blues guitar drifted faint through the dark from somebody’s radio a mile off. 

Smoke walked toward the house slowly at first, Red Wing work boots heavy against the dirt path. 

Then quicker. Like his body already knew where peace was waiting.

The screen door creaked when he opened it. Inside, the house smelled like grease, cocoa butter, and the tiniest trace of Annie’s perfume still hanging in the air—Avon Occur! A single lamp lit the living room beside the sofa. 

And there she was. 

Curled beneath one of the afghans in her yellow house dress, asleep on her side with one arm tucked beneath her cheek. 

Smoke stopped right there in the doorway. 

His entire face softened. 

Annie looked like she’d tried to stay awake for him. The television flickered silently across her brown skin while a magazine rested half-open near her hip. Her bare feet peeked out beneath the blanket, toenails painted deep orange-red. A color Annie called grapefruit. 

Smoke swallowed hard. 

Lord. 

He stood there for a long second just looking at her breathing. Then, he crossed the room quietly. The floor creaked beneath his weight, but Annie only stirred a little when he crouched beside the sofa. Her forehead pinched faintly like she could feel him there even in sleep. 

Smoke reached out and brushed his knuckles against her ankle beneath the blanket. 

“Baby,” he said with a whisper. 

Annie blinked away gradual, eyes still cloudy with sleep. For a second, she just stared at him like she wasn’t sure if he was really there. 

Then, her expression shifted. She wasn’t angry. No attitude. Just tired hurt. And somehow, that felt worse. Smoke lowered his eyes briefly before looking back at her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words came rough. Real rough. Like they scraped his throat coming out. 

Annie remained quiet, watching him carefully from beneath sleepy lashes while the television light danced across both their faces. Smoke rested his forearms against his knees and shook his head once. 

“You ain’t deserve how I talked to you earlier.” His voice stayed low and steady. “I was wrong.” 

Annie looked at Smoke for a long moment before she pushed herself up against the arm of the sofa. The afghan slipped down into her lap, yellow fabric wrinkled beneath it, and Smoke could see where sleep had pressed lines into her cheek. 

Her eyes stayed on him the whole time. Tired eyes. Pretty eyes. Eyes that had watched him leave and still hoped he’d come back through the door anyway. 

Cicadas cried outside beyond the screen windows. 

Finally, Annie spoke. 

“You know what hurt me the most?” 

Her voice came quiet from sleep, thick and warm around the edges, but there was ache sitting beneath every word. 

“It wasn’t even what you said.” 

Smoke’s jaw flexed. 

Annie pulled the blanket closer around herself and looked down at her hands for a second before meeting his eyes again. 

“It’s how fast you pulled away from me.” 

That landed hard. Smoke felt it straight through the center of his chest. 

Annie shook her head lightly, swallowing before she continued. 

“I asked you one little thing, Elijah.” 

The sound of his name in her mouth always did something to him. Especially like this. Hurt. Honest. 

“All I wanted to know was if my husband was gon’ be home with me tomorrow.” Her eyes glistened faint under the lamp light. “And you looked at me like I was tryna trap ya’.”

Smoke dropped his gaze to the floor.

Because she was right. Every bit of right. 

“I know you been carryin’ things,” Annie continued carefully. “I know some days still get heavy for you. I ain’t blind to that.” She pressed her lips together briefly. “But baby, you shut me out so fast lately.” 

The room felt smaller suddenly. Closer. Smoke rubbed a hand slowly over his mouth, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“I ain’t mean to.” 

Annie gave a tiny sad smile at that.

“I know you ain’t mean to.” 

And somehow, that made it worse too. Because she understood him so well. 

Too well. 

Smoke looked up at her finally, eyes dark beneath tired lids. 

“I just…” He exhaled hard through his nose. “Feels like every damn thing been pullin’ at me lately. Stack needin’ me for this and that. Folks actin’ crazy at the shop. Money. Bills. Nightmares still crawlin’ up on me outta nowhere.” He shook his head once. “And then you ask me somethin’ simple and my mind hear it wrong.” 

Annie listened without interrupting him. Smoke’s voices lowered further. 

“Like I’m failing somewhere.” 

That made her expression soften immediately. 

“Oh, baby.” 

She reached for him instinctively. Like she always did. Her fingers slid into his hand, warm and familiar, and Smoke looked down at them joined together like he needed the reminder. 

Annie squeezed gently. 

“You think wantin’ my husband home means you failin’ me?” 

Smoke didn’t answer right away. That silence answered enough. Annie’s face crumpled just a little around the eyes before she shook her head. 

“No.” Her thumb stroked slowly across his knuckles. “No, honey. That ain’t what I be sayin’ to you at all.” 

Smoke finally looked back at her. Annie’s voice turned softer. A deep southern softness that wrapped around bruises. 

“I miss you even when you standin’ right in front of me sometimes.” 

That nearly broke him. 

“You leave before the sun come up. Come home carryin’ the whole world in your shoulders. Half the time you staring off somewhere else even when I’m talkin’ to you.” Her eyes searched his face carefully. “And I know you tryin’. Lord knows I do. But sometimes I just want my man with me. That’s all.” 

Smoke’s throat worked hard. Annie shifted closer on the sofa, blanket falling aside completely now. Her hand slid up his wrist until she could touch the side of his face. 

“You ain’t gotta carry everything alone.” 

The roughness in Smoke’s face cracked a little then. Just enough for her to see it. He leaned into her palm without thinking twice.

Tired. 

So damn tired. 

“I don’t know how to stop sometimes,” he admitted. 

Annie’s eyes watered immediately at the honesty in that. 

“Well…” She gave the smallest trembling smile. “Maybe you start by coming home sooner.” 

A short breath escaped Smoke then, relief touching him for the first time all night. He turned his head and pressed his mouth into the center of her palm. 

“I can do that.” 

Annie’s fingers tugged gently on his kinky hair at the base of his neck, holding him there. 

“I don’t need perfect, Eli,” she whispered. “I just need you.” 

I just need you. 

The words settled over him like Sunday morning light. 

Smoke looked at Annie like he was trying to hold onto every piece of her at once. Her hand still rested against his face, thumb brushing lightly near the corner of his beard.

Then, Annie spoke again.

“And the babies need you too.” 

Smoke’s eyes lowered immediately. 

Annie’s voice remained gentle.

“Aminah been askin’ if you gon’ make it to her school singing next week.” A tiny smile touched her mouth despite everything. “She practiced that whole little song in front the mirror three times today.” 

That pulled something deep in Smoke’s chest. 

Annie continued softly. “Micah carried your work boots through the house this evening talkin’ ‘bout he wanna be just like his daddy.” She shook her head fairly, amused through the sadness. “Almost busted his little behind over them heavy things.” 

Smoke huffed quietly through his nose at that, emotion climbing hard into his throat now. 

“And Imani…” Annie’s face softened all over. “That baby hear your truck before anybody else do. Every evening she wobble straight to the window lookin’ for you.” 

Lord. 

Smoke shut his eyes briefly. 

Too much love sittin’ in one house waitin’ on him. 

Too much trust. 

His calloused hand came up to cover Annie’s where it rested against his cheek, holding it there while he fought to steady himself. When he opened his eyes again, they looked wetter than before. 

“Ain’t no good at this talkin’ shit,” he admitted. 

Annie almost smiled. “I know.” 

Smoke shook his head once, breathing rough through his nose. 

“But I am sorry, Annie girl.” His voice dropped deeper. Honest. Stripped clean. “For tonight. For pulling away. For makin’ you feel alone when you ain’t supposed to.” He swallowed hard. “You my wife, Annie.” 

The way he said it sounded sacred without trying to.

Final. 

“You hear me?” 

Annie nodded slowly, eyes shining. Smoke leaned closer, forearms resting against her knees while his thumb stroked the side of her hand. 

“I love this house.” His gaze drifted around the room briefly before returning to her. “Love our babies. Love hearing ya’ll runnin’ ‘round here actin’ wild.” A tired smile touched him for half a second. “Love knowin’ you waitin’ on me.” His jaw flexed. “I just…” He searched for the words carefully. “Sometimes I get so wrapped up making sure everybody straight that I forget the whole reason I work so damn hard is already here.” 

Annie’s eyes softened so much it almost hurt to look at her. She reached for him again immediately, rubbing her hand across the broad span of his back beneath his shirt. Strong back. Working man’s back. Carrying too much all the time. 

“You don’t gotta prove your worth every second of the day, Eli.” 

Smoke exhaled shakily. 

Her fingers moved steady up and down his spine while his own hand slid across her thigh absentmindedly beneath the blanket. Slow strokes. Familiar strokes. Grounding strokes. Built from years together. 

They stayed like that for a while, just looking at each other. Years sitting inside those looks. 

War. 

Babies. 

Hard winters.

Bills folded on kitchen counters.

Slow dancing in socks.

Crying together in the darkness. 

Holding each other through every version of life they survived. 

Smoke stared at Annie like he still couldn’t believe she chose him. And Annie looked back like she’d choose him every single time again. 

Then, Smoke leaned forward. His hand slid from her thigh up to her waist while he pressed his forehead lightly against hers first, eyes closing briefly as if he needed to feel close before anything else. 

Then, he kissed her. 

Deep. Not rushed. Not heated for the sake of heat. 

Needed. 

A kiss a man gives when he finally comes home to himself. Annie melted into him immediately with a soft sound against his mouth, her fingers curling tighter at the back of his neck while Smoke held her close enough to feel her heartbeat through the thin yellow fabric. He kissed her like apology. Like relief. Like gratitude. Like a man worn thin by the world finally reaching the only place that ever made him feel whole again. 

When the kiss finally broke, Annie rested her forehead against his, noses brushing lightly while both of them breathed the same warm air between them. Smoke’s hands remained at her waist, thumbs brushing against the fabric gathered there like he still needed reassurance she was really in front of him. 

Annie smiled first. Small. Sleepy. Full of love. 

“Come to bed, baby.” 

Smoke looked at her for another second before nodding once.

“Yeah.” 

Annie brushed one last kiss against the corner of his mouth before standing from the sofa. The afghan slid down behind her while she stretched lightly, yellow dress pulling across her hips and thighs beneath the dim living room lamp. 

Smoke watched her the whole way. 

Lord, he loved that woman. 

Annie glanced back at him halfway down the hall, catching him staring, that tired little smile returned again. 

“Don’t sit out here brooding all night neither.” 

A faint grin tugged at Smoke’s mouth then. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Annie shook her head softly at him and disappeared into their bedroom, leaving behind the scent of her perfume, cocoa butter, and home. 

Smoke stayed on the couch another minute after Annie left. 

Just breathing. Settling himself. 

He leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees while he rubbed the back of his neck with both hands. 

Provider. 

Protector. 

Husband. 

Father. 

The weight of those things never left him. But tonight reminded him why he carried it in the first place. 

Smoke stood finally and cut the television off. Then, he reached over and cut the lamp light. Darkness settled through the living room except for the kitchen light glowing faint down the hall. 

The old wood floors creaked beneath his boots while he moved quietly toward the children’s room. 

The door sat cracked open already. 

Inside, moonlight spilled pale blue through thin curtains laying across toys scattered near the wall and little shoes kicked carelessly beside the dresser. 

Smoke paused in the doorway. 

Aminah and Micah were sprawled across the bunk beds without a worry in the world. Micah slept on the bottom bunk flat on his back, one skinny leg hanging halfway over the mattress while one of his comic books rested open on his chest. The Jungle Action Comic Series “Panther’s Rage.” Uncle Stack picked up from some comic shop in Atlanta on one of his business trips. Aminah slept above him curled beneath her blanket with one long braid hanging over the edge of the bed. 

Smoke shook his head lightly at the sight. Then, his eyes moved toward the crib in the corner. 

Imani. Fast asleep with her tiny fists tucked near her cheeks. 

Smoke’s entire expression softened again. He crossed the room carefully, every movement quieter so he wouldn’t wake them. First, he stopped beside Micah, lifting the comic gently from the boy’s chest before laying on it on the floor nearby. Smoke bent and pressed a kiss against Micah’s forehead. 

“Love you, boy.” He whispered. 

Micah only smacked his lips softly in his sleep. 

Smoke moved to the top bunk next. Aminah stirred faintly when he brushed his knuckles against her cheek, but she settled once he kissed her temple. 

“That my girl.” He whispered. 

Then, he made his way to the crib. 

Imani looked so small sleeping there. Her curls spread against the little pillow while the moonlight touched her round cheeks. Smoke rested both hands on the front rail and just looked at her for a second, emotion rising up all over again before he leaned down carefully. He kissed her forehead. 

Imani sighed in her sleep. 

Smoke closed his eyes at the sound. 

Lord, thank you.

When he straightened again, he stood there another moment looking over all three of his babies together. 

His family. 

His whole damn heart sleeping inside one room.

Then, he pulled the bedroom door nearly shut behind him before heading toward the back room where Annie waited. 

And the second Smoke stepped inside and saw his wife sitting there against the headboard with her hair wrapped up and her yellow dress slipping off one shoulder, something inside him settled completely.

Her eyes dropped immediately to his boots. Then to the dirt along the cuffs of his jeans. 

One brow lifted.

“No outside clothes in bed. Smoke.” 

The firmness in her sleepy voice made him grin before he could help it. 

There she go.

Back to herself. 

Back to them. 

Smoke leaned one shoulder against the doorway and chuckled low in his chest. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Annie pointed lazily toward the hamper near the dresser without another word. Smoke laughed softly through his nose and obeyed. 

He unlaced his boots first and set them neatly by the wall before peeling off his socks. Then came the jeans, heavy belt clinking softly in the quiet room, followed by his faded T-shirt. Warm brown skin stretched over muscle, old scars cutting pale against his chest and shoulders from another life Annie never judged him for. 

She watched him the entire time. Not even trying to hide it. Smoke caught her staring and smirked.

“You supposed to be sleep.”

Annie settled deeper into the pillows.

“You supposed to be listening.” 

That made him laugh again. 

Lord. 

Smoke tossed his clothes in the hamper and headed into the small bathroom connected to their room. Annie listened to the familiar sounds while fighting sleep. Running water. Cabinet creaking open. Toothbrush bristles against teeth. 

Domestic sounds. 

Marriage sounds.

Sounds you stop noticing until one night they’re missing. 

Smoke washed his face, letting cool water clear the last of the heaviness from his mind. When he looked up afterward, droplets clung to his beard and lashes. 

For the first time all day, he looked calm. 

By the time  he came back into the bedroom, Annie’s eyes were half closed. Still waiting on him anyway. 

That hit him straight in the chest too. 

Smoke crossed the room and reached over to switch the lamp off. Moonlight poured through the curtains in silver strips. 

The mattress dipped beneath his weight when he climbed in beside her. 

Instantly, Annie moved closer. Like muscle memory. Her head found his chest while one arm draped across his stomach beneath tue blanket. One strong arm pulled her snug against him while the other rested beneath his head. Annie’s fingertips slid slowly down the ridges of his abdomen, absentmindedly and sleepy. Smoke lowered his mouth to the top of her wrapped hair and kissed her there.

Long. Lingering.

“I love you,” he whispered into the darkness. 

Annie hummed softly against his chest. 

“Love you too, Elijah.” 

The fan whirled overhead and the crickets cried outside. Annie’s breathing started slowing little by little against him while Smoke stared up into the dark ceiling, holding his wife close and listening to the peace of his own home around him. 

Then came a soft knock. 

 Both of them blinked. 

The bedroom door creaked open before either of them could answer. 

Aminah stood there in her nightgown holding sleepy little Imani against her hip the best she could. Micah lingered beside her rubbing one eye with his fist, blanket dragging behind him across the floor. 

Smoke lifted his head immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Aminah looked exhausted. 

“Imani woke up crying,” she whispered. “Then Micah got scared ‘cause of the thunder.” 

Right on cue, distant thunder rolled across the Mississippi sky. 

Annie sighed softly against Smoke’s chest. 

Because of course. 

Smoke pushed um himself up onto one elbow while Micah shuffled further into the room. 

“I-I think there’s a m-monster in the closet.” Micah admitted miserably. 

Smoke looked at Annie.

Annie looked at Smoke.

Then both of them smiled at the exact same time. 

Family. 

“Ain’t no monsters in this house,” Smoke said, voice groggy as he held his arm out towards Micah. “Come on here, man.” 

Micah hurried over, climbing onto the bed from Smoke’s side while dragging his blanket behind him. The mattress bounced beneath his little knees before he collapsed dramatically beside his father with a tired sigh. 

Annie laughed softly under her breath. 

“Aminah, baby, bring your sister here before your little arms fall off.” 

Aminah nodded sleepily and crossed the room carefully with Imani tucked against her shoulder. Smoke reached out automatically to steady the baby while Annie pulled the blankets back further. 

“Lay her beside me,” Annie whispered. 

Imani fussed faintly when Aminah lowered her into the bed, tiny face scrunched up with leftover tears and sleepiness, but the second Annie gathered her close against her chest, the baby settled back down. 

Safe. 

Imani’s little hand grabbed hold of Annie’s nightdress while Annie kissed her curls gently.

“There we go,” she whispered. 

Smoke watched the sight from the other side of the bed. 

His whole world right there. Right here.

Aminah crawled in next, slipping beneath the covers beside Annie and Imani while Micah sprawled halfway across Smoke’s side already fighting sleep again. 

The bed suddenly became crowded as hell. Legs everywhere. Blankets twisted. One of Micah’s feet shoved directly against Smoke’s thigh. 

And still, somehow, it felt perfect. 

Annie looked over at Smoke in the darkness, amusement flowing in her tired eyes. 

“Well,” she whispered. “So much for us having room tonight.” 

Smoke snorted quietly. 

“I sleep better with ya’ll in here anyway.” 

That made Annie smile. 

The storm rolled deeper outside, rain beginning to tap lightly against the windows while the fan turned overhead carrying cool air through the room. 

Smoke reached across the bed until his hand found Annie’s beneath the blankets. 

Their fingers laced together naturally. 

Aminah was already asleep curled against Annie’s shoulder. Micah had one arm flung across Smoke’s stomach, knocked out almost instantly. And little Imani breathed tiny warm breaths against Annie’s chest while thunder rumbled far off across the Delta night. 

Smoke stared up at the ceiling for another minute listening to all of it. 

Rain.

His children breathing. 

His wife beside him. 

Home. 

Then Annie squeezed his hand once in the darkness.

The Moore household was hectic as usual.

Elijah going in and out of the garage as he loaded up luggage, their eighteen month old babygirl trying her hardest to follow Annie into each room, and Annie’s best friend who never grew tired of talking.

The two women surrounded the kitchen island as they took turns folding the toddler’s laundry. The bottled water crackled as the woman twisted it’s top.

Tiffany, Annie’s friend, finally managing to quiet down. Just a little. “What day is ya’ll coming back again?”

Annie hummed over the sound of the security system’s beeping indicating that Elijah returned again and was somewhere in their home. “Tuesday night.”

Tiff’s tongue scraped the back of her teeth. She was nervous. “Lawd. Ok ok.”

In the near two years their daughter had been alive, Smoke and Annie never went anywhere without their her. They’d refused to.

Only a select few were authorized to take care of their doe eyed prize and Tiffany was one of them. But she’d never kept the little girl alone for more than twenty four hours before. Tiffany grimaced as she briefly thought back to about seven months ago. Elijah, the always quiet and observant twin, almost blew his top.

Tiffany had heard the rumors, Annie had always told her that she knew for a matter of fact that Elijah would go to the ends of the Earth for their family.

But hearing it and seeing it were two different things.

It had been a Friday evening when Annie and Tiffany walked into the large home, pair of high stilettos hitting against the marble floors. Sammie was on babysitting duty. Or at least he was supposed to be- but when Annie walked into her kitchen, she observed were the unfamiliar male voices.

Sammie and his friends were huddled around the dinner table with their phones in hand as the near empty boxes rested on the kitchen countertop. He didn’t even notice the women walking in as he scrolled through social media. The grey colored baby monitor sitting idly next to him.

Annie called out to him. “Sammie?”

His eyes finding her in surprise as if he was a little kid who’d got caught in the cookie jar. Tiffany interjected. “They gotta go right now, Sammie.”

The front door opened and all of the playful air left with it, unknown tension replacing it. Smoke’s slow but sure footsteps echoed and there was no doubt on where he was headed to, especially after seeing the numerous unfamiliar parked cars in front of his garage and driveway. The kitchen held it’s breath.

In an instant, he was at his wife’s side.

His stare pinning Sammie in place.

Annie first noticed the tremor in his right hand. His restraint slowly wavering.

“Elijah, they was just leavin.”

He ain’t wanna hear it right now.

“Everybody get the fuck out right now.” He held eye contact with the young men before turning towards the patio sliding door. “Talk to me outside, Sammie.”

The women watched as the boys began to tidy up the kitchen and put the chairs back in place.

“I think you done lost your muthafuckin mind ain’t it?” Was all they heard before Sammie closed the door.

Tiffany pretended to clean up the kitchen and wash a few dishes while trying to eavesdrop. Her and Annie watched the two men stand in close proximity to each other as Sammie nodded. Elijah remained stoic but one could still deduce he was not pleased. Five minutes later, Sammie returned to the kitchen and walked up to Annie while Elijah disappeared upstairs to his daughter. The young man’s eyes were red.

“I apologize for having people over without asking you first.” Annie rubbed his shoulders.

———————————————————————

Currently, the last step creaked when the ladies walked over it and headed to the guest bedroom. AJ was on her mama’s hip with not a care in the world.

Scents of warm vanilla and jasmine welcomed them into the neutral colored bedroom. Browns, beiges, and pops up gold all by Annie’s design.

“Everythin’ in here fresh and clean for ya like always.” Annie circled the large poster bed to plug the candle warmer.

Her daughter letting out a small whine as she gently hit the mattress.

“There’s a robe and some slippers in there for ya, too.” She nodded in the direction of the en-suite.

Tiffany sat down on the bed next to the toddler before picking her up and kissing her. “Girl, I don’t need all of that!”

Annie hushed her. Her friend should know by now that she’d be taken care of regardless.

AJ flashed her gummy grin at her chosen auntie. “You ready for your vacation?”

Annie sighed while digging through the spare closet for a pair of shoes.

“I ain’t ready because Smoke won’t tell me where we goin’.”

She walked over to the closet to aid in her friend’s search of the shoes.

“Girl, least you know you gon’ be good and just fine no matter where ya’ll goin’.”

Annie sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

Fifteen minutes later, the women found the pair of sandals and that concluded Annie’s packing. Her bag was for sure overweight.

The couple said their goodbyes to their little girl and loaded into the Escalade.

A mischievous grin appeared on her friend’s face as she kissed the little girl’s droopy cheek. “Don’t come back here pregnant!” The garage door continued to lower until Tiffany and AJ were no longer visible.

———————————————————

Annie eyed the wide screen as she rested her head on Elijah’s shoulder.

2hr and 29 minutes to St. Lucia.

She’d only known about the destination for an hour. Smoke had refused to come clean about the trip.

He enjoyed sitting back watching her look around their home for clues, going through his phone, and the way her brows furrowed when he told her to start packing.

It wasn’t until their boarding pass was printed and handed to her that she finally knew where they were going. “Really, Lijah?”

“Really.” Smoke confirmed matter of factly. His strong hands wrapped around the luggage handle as he tagged their bags.

The hum of the plane’s engine hadn’t stopped Smoke from “resting his eyes” neither did it threaten his grip on Annie’s hip. His fingers leaving indentions on her skin as if she’d somehow manage to leave him 30,000 in the air.

Her head was sell on his shoulder. “Elijah.”

He looked down innocently under low lashes. “Hm?”

“Let me go. I need to gon’ get up.” Annie unbuckled her seatbelt with a small click.

———————————————————————-

Annie’s black Telfar tote swayed back and forth as the couple walked through the dimly lit hotel floor, their luggage on the cart right in front of them. Elijah stood to her right a few steps back as if he’d been hired for hotel security and not a man en route with his wife to a villa that costs $4,400 per night.

“Mr. and Mrs. Moore, welcome.”

The hotel bellman eased open the wooden double doors open to the suite and the couple took in the much needed fresh air after a long and hectic travel day.

A symphony of Seagulls outside and a large bathtub greeted them first.

The younger hotel worker reached into the entryway closet for the foldable luggage rack to begin sorting out the couple’s belongings but he was quickly deterred from his task when Elijah interrupted him.

With a simple nod, he sent the two employees on their way after generously tipping them. Annie was on the balcony with her cellphone to her ear when she felt his palm on her lower back. The man sighed into her neck.

“You gettin’ fucked right here. You know that?” The rhetorical question came out low but without any hesitation.

Her smaller hand reaching back in attempt to grasp the back of his neck.

“You promisin’ me that?” A damp kiss from her husband formed goosebumps on her skin.

“Ain’t no promise, baby. I’m tellin’ you your future and we don’t need your magic for that.”

Her best friend’s voice boomed through the speakerphone. “I’m still here by the way just in case ya’ll forgot.”

Elijah shrugged.

Annie giggled. “Send me a picture of my baby, please. I love ya’ll.”

The rest of the afternoon went by uneventful. Smoke following his wife into every room of the villa, savoring how her ass moved in the loose white romper.

A gentle knock at the door interrupted their lounging on the couch.

Elijah looked through the peephole.

On the other side of the door was a member of the concierge team, Angelica.

She was a younger black woman, her braids pulled into a low bun and she wore an all black pantsuit with a bronze colored nametag. He opened the door and noticed the tray of sweets she’d been holding.

“Mr. Moore, Mrs. Moore. Welcome.”

She motioned at the wooden tray that included slices of banana cake, coconut tarts, and bonbon mochas. Local desserts.

“I’m Angelica, a member of your conceirge team. My team and I oversee our premium villa guests. Please know that we are at your disposal 24/7.”

Annie stepped closer into the doorway and accepted the tray. The two women smiled at each other before Angelica departed.

Elijah’s big hands were the first to grab a small piece of banana cake before the door could even close.

“Shit kinda good.” His mouth was full and occupied but that hadn’t stopped him from smacking Annie’s ass when she walked past him.

————————————————————————-

Food at the hotel’s restaurant was standard which meant that the pair weren’t impressed. When the waiter came by to check on them, Annie had to stop Elijah from voicing his disappointment.

He continued to grumble away and shake his head in disbelief after paying the bill.

She stared across the table at her husband. Her thighs rubbing together under the cluttered dining table.

He was wearing a black sleeved collared shirt, black slacks, and black loafers. Elijah felt her eyes on him long before he met her gaze.

Seven years later, Annie still bought the great Smoke Moore to his knees and he knew it. Everyone did, even the strangers over in the next booth.

They noticed how he studied every breath she took, every one of her facial expressions while she stared at the menu, and the way he held his breath anytime she spoke.

“You ready?” His question holding more weight than the literal. Annie nodded and began moving towards the edge of the blue velvet booth.

The couple returned to their freshly cleaned villa. Housekeeping left a note with a few pieces of chocolate on the fluffy pillows. Elijah’s hand dragged down his face, eyes red. He looked sleepy but he was fighting it just like his toddler back at home. Annie scrunched down to undo her heels but Smoke beat her to it.

His hand rubbing up and down her calf.

“You tryna start somethin’ with me, Smoke?” She almost missed his small smile against her leg.

He kissed her feet. “You know the answer to that, baby.”

The hot water from the rainfall shower-head splashed against Annie’s shower cap and down her plush body.

She was tired- they both were, but she needed him tonight. Her reflection peeked through the large foggy mirror. Ebony nipples hardening under the cooler air of the bathroom, the faucet squeaked as she turned it on to brush her teeth.

Up until a few minutes ago, she’d heard her husband shuffling around the room but now it was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

With the opulent but excessively larger robe falling halfway off her shoulder, Annie padded to the bedroom.

Elijah lay horizontally on the bed knocked out. His pants and shirt unbuttoned.

She was surprised she hadn’t heard his loud snoring from the bathroom.

The ladies from the informercial on the tv continued their sales pitch over the sound of Smoke’s vibrating phone. Annie picked it up without even bothering to see who it was.

“He sleepin’. Don’t call him no more.”

She turned her attention to him.

“Elijah!” The slap to his knees was loud.

Smoke shifted in place but his eyes remained closed.

“Yeah?” he grumbled.

———————————————————————

2:47 am.

Brown eyes opening to the completely dark room. He patted his upper body to feel the shirt still on his body.

“Shit.” he hissed through clenched teeth.

He sat up on the bed halfway expecting Annie to still be in the bathroom where she’d been before sleep claimed him.

But there was no running water to be heard. He didn’t hear her humming anymore. Nothing. And she wasn’t next to him in this bed.

Being together as long as they have, he anticipated her every move. Could sense her from several feet away.

It was no surprise to him when his body feet carried him to her. She was in the secondary bedroom, laid across the smaller queen sized bed, one of her legs stretched out. And after a quick shower, Smoke joined her in bed.

——————————————————————

The next morning, the knock at the room door was soft.

Elijah watched in the reflection of the mirror as Annie went to answer.

Her black strapless dress and braids moved with her every step.

He could smell her perfume even though she was several feet away.

She hadn’t said one word to him this morning. Barely looked his way.

When he bent down to kiss her on the lips over breakfast, she turned her head in silent protest forcing his lips to meet her temple. Some of her hair gel caught on his lips.

The door swung open to the sight of a lady dressed in an all white uniform. The beauty mole under her lip bringing more attention to her deep red lipstick. She smelled amazing and her smile was breathtaking.

Elijah turned off the water and padded over to stand next to his wife. His stare was impenetrable. He hovered unapologetically.

“You must be Mr. Moore.” The worker smiled and Smoke simply nodded. His jaw clenched as he returned his eyes back to Annie. Sensing the tension, Shelly took a few steps back from the doorway before speaking again.

“Mrs. Moore, good morning. I’m Shelly with our spa team. I’m here to escort you to your appointment.”

Annie looked over to her right side in defiance. She knew he was irritated.

But she wasn’t done yet.

“Please. Just…Annie. My mama named me Annie.” Her breast rubbed against his broad shoulder as she attempted her exit.

Within seconds, her footing was lost and her body was jerked back involuntarily as the door was slammed shut. His thick fingers dug into her forearm.

Wild eyes stared back at her.

“What you just say? What your name is?”he huffed near her ear.

If it had been anyone else in the grasp of Elijah Smoke Moore, they’d been trembling by now. No one else got this close in proximity to him while he was ticked off and lived to talk about it. Even other grown men too nervous to look him in the eyes.

A couple of months ago, the pair had been out on one of their weekly date nights when Elijah accidentally bumped into another man while pulling Annie’s chair out from the table. One would assume that Smoke would apologize for the slight tap but…he didn’t. And with one look at the stranger, the man actually apologized to him. But none of that mattered with Annie.

They both knew it. Her manicured hand open palming the side of his face.

“Smoke, lemme go ‘fore I scream and get you kicked outta hea’.” The threat came rolled off her tongue easily.

His hold tightened. “Yeah? You think I care bout that shit?”

His eyes followed hers to the near empty circular room service table.

“Elijah, I’m tellin’ you right now.”

The steak knife catching the attention of both of them. “Let me go or I betcha’ you ain’t making it back home with me.”

He decided today wasn’t the day he called her bluff. That lesson was learned years ago, the slash mark on his arm proving it.

“I’ll be waiting on ya’ to get back.” He released her slowly.

She straightened her dress and headed for the door. “Keep waitin’, nigga.”

—————————————————————

Elijah padded into the Master Bedroom softly. He was shirtless, skin still glistening from applying Annie’s shea butter after his shower. Even though he swore that he never touched it. The soft hums from the whirring from the ceiling fan interrupting his thoughts. When Annie returned from her appointment, he knew she was still upset. He was over it five minutes after it’d began but Annie wasn’t. That’d been evident thirty minutes ago when he reached across the California King sized hotel bed to bring her to him after she tied her bonnet up but she refused, opting to turn over instead. The balcony door was slightly ajar, letting in the cool air as his weight dipped into the mattress.

His wife was snoring lightly, the light from the tv screen danced across her skin.

With a sigh, Elijah reached over and dragged his large up and down her hip.

The woman stirred. Smoke lowered his body just a little bit so that her ass was lined up with his lap. He maneuvered his knee and forced it between her thighs to separate them.

“Elijah, gon’ back to bed like you did last night.”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

She wanted it. Wanted him but pride wouldn’t allow her to give in that easy.

His hand treaded down her plump body to her puffy folds. With one singular circular motion on her sensitive bud, Annie tried to close her legs on his arm but Elijah used his free hand to grab one of her legs and locked it in place. Like he wanted.

He continued his movements while whispering filth into her ear.

His dick rested on her back and when she reached around to grab him, he grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers.

Annie sighed against the pillow as she tried to quiet herself when she sensed her release building.

The action earning her another soft slap to her cheek. “You think I paid all this money for you be to quiet, Ann?”

The bed sheets wrinkled where she grabbed them. “Fuck.”

When Elijah felt the first involuntary kegel of her pelvic floor, he slowly withdrew his fingers and lapped up her juices.

Annie turned around in disbelief.

“You ain’t finishin’ like that tonight, Mrs. Moore.” He chastised as he sat up against the large tufted headboard.

Annie huffed. She fluffed her pillow and turned back around. “That ain’t my name.”

Bratty. But Smoke liked when she got like this. He thrived on it.

“You sure about that, baby?” He lowered his body again behind her. Warm hands rubbed her nipples.

Annie backed her ass into his dick. “I’m sho’.”

In one fluid motion, he held her right leg up as he entered her. He sighed contently.

“All good, baby. I’ma remind you.”

He stroked slowly into her, drawing out the first of her moans. Her foot swayed beside his head. Gold anklet shining in the dark.

“Matter of fact, you gon’ tell me what ya name is.”

She did.

———————————————

Back at home, Elijah was always first to wake. Many nights spent tossing and turning when his past caught up to him during the wee hours. He only allowed his eyes to close once he heard the steady rhythmic beating of Annie’s heart.

But vacation Smoke was different.

Dozing off any and everywhere. He looked peaceful.But when Annie was first to leave the bed this morning, he didn’t mind it this time.His heavy feet smacked against the tiles of the bathroom floor. She was on the toilet staring at something on her phone.

“Mornin’.” Elijah bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead, taking up most of the space in the water closet.

The water from the bidet splashed against her swollen pussy lips for the fourth time. She’d spent the last ten minutes on the toilet abusing the feature in hopes that it would bring relief to her newfound soreness from last night’s… activities.

The woman hummed. “Mornin, papa.”

“I’m Papa again ‘cuz I gave you what you needed, huh?” He was satisfied.

Annie rolled her eyes. Smug son of a bitch.

The faucet squeaked when the man turned it on.

“I ordered ya some food. It’s comin’ up soon.” he said before gargling a cap full of mouthwash. “I gotta feed this baby I just put in ya.”

“Elijah, please.” Her full breasts swayed as she made her way to the shower.

Though she feigned annoyance, heat swelled in her lower belly. Watching him with their baby girl daily and the way in which he turned into a different man once he crossed the threshold into their home never got old. A soft knock accompanied by the doorbell announced the food’s arrival.

Elijah knocked on shower glass.

“Meet me outside, woman.”

The room service attendant tried to roll the dining cart further into the villa but Smoke politely dismissed her and opted to bring it outside on the balcony himself.

Waffles, fluffy omlettes, pastries, juices, and an arrangement of flowers stared back at him.

“Hm. Smellin’ good.” Annie sighed as she sat in the large chair.

Smoke sat down and poured each of them a glass of orange juice.

“Shit ain’t better than your cooking, baby.”

Underneath the table, Annie moved her foot into his lap and he grabbed it instinctively. His hard dick throbbed under her arch. Elijah cleared his throat.

“How you feelin’ ,mama?”

The waves crashed against the shore.

She didn’t answer but there was a glint in her eyes. The woman’s pedicured toes continued to rub against his manhood and fabric of his sweatpants.

He questioned lowly. “You still mad at me?”

She raised her eyebrow. “And if I am?”

“I can fix that right outta you.” It was a promise.

He wasn’t lying. She knew it.

But she wouldn’t let him win again.

She pushed her chair back from the table and made her way over to her husband.

Elijah’s large hands found the backs of her thighs as he helped her into his lap.

They sighed in unison as she made herself comfortable.

Smoke went face first into her titties then kissed his way up her neck.

Annie dropped her hips in emphasis.

“You ain’t runnin’ nothin’ right now, Lijah.” She slapped his hands away from her lower back and rolled her hips once.

He hissed. “Ann, shit.”

Annie untied the hotel robe exposing herself in full to him. His thick fingers found her warm slit as he practiced expert concise ministrations. Annie rocked herself on his fingers, the chair under them creaked.

“Mm hm.” Elijah goaded her on when her pace quickened. Dark eyes studying her every facial expression.

Sweat beads dripped along her temple.

Though the balcony had shade, it was still warm and humid. The pavement under Smoke’s planted feet slightly burning him but he didn’t care. He was too busy listening to squelch sounds from her pussy while worked herself on his thick fingers.

“You can’t be that mad at me, mama.

I know you hearin’ this shit.” he taunted.

He bucked his hips into hers not giving a fuck about the barrier of fabric.

Her legs tightened around his waist but he forced them open.

“Lijah!” Annie cried. Her head dipped backwards giving him better access to her neck which he appreciated by sucking on it .

Smoke removed his lips from her throat and quickly replaced them with his hand and held it there. That final pressure was all too much.

“Gon’ give it to me.” He whispered into her ear before claiming her lips in a sloppy kiss. Annie gasped when her body started to shake. Her warm release coating Smoke’s lower stomach. He peppered kisses along her temple and jawline and used his free hand to tug down his sweatpants.

“Nuh-uh.” Annie used her wobbly legs to get off of him, both of their bodies still slick. The ties from the hotel robe grazed against his thigh.

“I ain’t got shit for you right now, Elijah.” With her head held high as if nothing just happened, she headed to the bathroom to clean up before Smoke had the chance to respond.

She’d left him at the breakfast table with his pants down around his ankles like some horny college kid and a painfully hard dick. He grumbled something under his breath in frustration as he stroked the base.

Game on.

Annie soaked in the tub while Elijah showered in preparation for today’s excursion. Lunchtime was scheduled to be spent on a private chartered boat with a three course menu and unlimited drinks.

That was the plan. The intention. But there was a problem.

Out of pride and impatience, he tried to take care of his hard dick all on his own in the shower but nothing worked.

Fuck the boat day and it’s $7,000 price tag.

Neither one of them was going to leave the villa today.

He found her on the balcony smiling at her phone. It was a genuine smile and the only time he saw it was when she smiled at him or their daughter. When it was obvious that the call was over, he slid the balcony door open.

“Your daughter over there bein’ grumpy just like you.” She said without turning around. If she had, she’d see a fully nude Elijah standing behind her.

He responded. “Good. That’s what she ‘sposed to do.”

“What you been teachin’ my ba-“ She stopped in her tracks when she turned around to face him.

Heat gathered back in that same place where it’d been an hour ago, when his two fingers had her stuffed full.

She tried to send him away because she knew exactly what was comin’ her way.

“Smoke, we ain’t got time.” But her body betrayed her. He didn’t miss the way her thighs clenched together.

Elijah shook his head. “We do.”

His hands were on her in seconds and this time? She didn’t fight it.

After sucking on her bottom lip, Smoke turned her body back around so she was facing the ocean.

Her hands automatically gripping the balcony ledge.

“‘Member what I told you when we first got here?” The reminder of his promise was all the warning she got before he entered her still slick walls. She slurred. “Lijah.”

His slick thumb entering her puckered brown hole.

He shushed her. “You said enough today.”

Annie whined and he forced a deeper arch from her as their bodies collided together.

Through her moans, Annie was still hyperaware that they were outside….technically. Her body met his for each stroke.

“Th-they gon’ see us, Smoke.”

His large hand kneaded then smacked one of her cheeks in discipline.

“And?” he spat. “You ain’t care about that shit a few minutes ago.” His hand snaked up her body to her throat.

Inside of the villa, Elijah’s unanswered phone rang for the third time before the caller left a voicemail.

It was the captain of the boat.

“Mr. Moore. Hey, uh- it’s Shane. Just wanted to let you know we are ready for you. Seems like you running a bit behind so we’ll wait for you and Mrs. Moore.”

But they never made it.

Five weeks later.

Lively noises carried through the backyard of Stack’s newly built home. Some of the kitchen appliances still in packing plastic.

Annie and Tiffany opting to sit at the four seater dining table since everything else was covered in boxes.

The two women were making the sides for supper. This was not the Sunday Annie had planned for her and Smoke, and she made sure to voice just that when Stack called her cellphone back to back to ask for a “hot meal for a pimp.”

After hanging up in Stack’s face, she texted him that she’ll cook this one time.

She stood at her bathroom sink rubbing in combination of mango and shea butter when a pang of nausea hit her causing her to sway back and forth on her feet.

The last few days she’d been a bit off but kept it to herself. For now. But she knew none of this was random.

This was the last puzzle piece to fall into place, no digital test needed.

Elijah didn’t lie in St. Lucia. There was a baby inside of her now.

She wasn’t gonna tell him yet, he’d be too cocky. But Elijah noticed it last week.

Ten days ago to be exact. The difference in her scent.

Per Elias’ request, Annie essentially was in charge of every side dish except the pecan pie, which had been Tiffany’s one duty.

A task she took very seriously in which she was only required to remove the pie from it’s box and preheat the large oven.

Annie rolled her eyes to the back of her head as she peeled herself another cold orange. Her third one in an hour. The knife continued to clash with the cutting board while Annie casually chopped up the potatoes for the potato salad. Annie appeared to be unbothered but her best friend was not.

With a few small steps, she appeared at Annie’s side.

“Where you even get these oranges, girl? This nigga’s refrigerator ain’t even set up yet.” With a hiccup, Annie responded.

“From my house. I brought ‘em here with me. Is that alright with you?” Her eyes narrowed. Tiffany glared at Annie.

An exegerated long winded “Mmm-hmm” was all the woman had to say for now.

A rectangular medium sized cardboard box hit the marble countertop.

Stack was standing there with his niece on his hip while Smoke was out on the grill.

“Somethin’ for ya’ll troubles and shit.”

With the chunky toddler still in tow, he gave a half hearted bow which coaxed an eye roll from Annie. Tiffany removed the top of the box and threw it hapharzadly as if it offended her, her hands grabbing the first crawfish that she saw.

“Ann, pass me a cold drink, please.”

Tiffany hissed through the feeling of the seasonings burning her lips as she brought the back of her hand to wipe her watery eyes. Stack didn’t miss the way she sucked the head of the crawfish’s body. Filing it for later.

“Goddamn. This shit hot. Here.” She tried to pass a crawfish to Annie but the woman declined.

“I don’t want any.” She swallowed a handful of green grapes and headed back to check on the near done macaroni and cheese. Stack met Tiffany’s knowing gaze.

The woman never turned down crawfish. Ever. She and Tiffany were the only ones in the family who ate it since everyone else hated seafood or was allergic to it. Elijah especially, hated the smell but tolerated it for her. He even boiled them sometimes when she requested.

The last time Annie declined a fresh box of crawfish was at Sammie’s twenty first birthday party in their backyard; before he got on a plane on a trip to Mexico that she and Smoke gifted him.

Her eighth month pregnant belly had her weighed down and sick then.

Tiffany rested her face in her palm.

“I told you not to come back pregnant!”

With a pan of meat in hand, Smoke walked into the kitchen on that note. His gaze finding Annie immediately.

“What I told ya?”

END.

A03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84815401#main

https://archiveofourown.org/works/84815401#main

Siri, play that Michael Jackson song that say “Annie are you okay” 💀💀 I was actually gonna title it that lol.

I wanted to do somethin’ quick and fun outside of the series I’m working on. This story is inspired by my favorite song/tiktok out right now. ⬇️😭

A/N: Thank you for readinggggg. 💛

Clap it up for me bc I hate writing smut but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone.

Not to lick my own coochie and toot my own horn or anything but I really like how this came out. I wish I could lick it though. I bet it’s some fye idk.

This was supposed to be out a couple weeks ago but I was too busy defending Megan Thee Stallion on Twitter from incel niggas and loser bitche$ to finish the ending.

Ladies: cheat and beat on ur man today!!!! Right now actually!!!!! 🫶🏼🤞🏽💛 I’m jk….. or am I? Aight bye!!! 😘

While snowy winters in Mississippi are rare, they aren’t impossible. The snow steadily falling outside means it is cold, and that means that the whole of Clarksdale, Black or White, is locked into their homes. 

Bunked in and bored to death. 

However! Annie has a plan to address the need to keep both busy and warm, with a soft smile on her face she watches her tea kettle tink and clink as the water starts to boil. Annie sways in place as she grinds together the warming spices of ginger and cardamom along, some floral tones of dried rose and jasmine into plain black tea leaves for her custom ‘Nice n’ Warm’ blend. 

She eyes down Smoke’s finely sculpted back; he is clad in just a pair of pajama pants and his under-tank his brown skin striking against the white of the top and silver of his dog tags. The sight prompts Annie to add a few more pinches of dried Hybrid Damiana aka Love Leaf aka a potent aphrodisiac she’s been custom growing for a while. Hell it was this tea blend alone that was the cause of the mini-baby waved in Clarksdale two summers ago. Can’t do nothing but fuck to cure the fever it causes. 

Meanwhile, Smoke watches the harsh flurries of white hit the window pane trying to calculate when would be the best time to run out to the side of the house to get more wood for the fireplace. His brow frowns at the new sight just outside the glass.

“I know that ain’t…. That dumbass!” Smoke scowls as he gets up and hurries out of the room to tug on his sweater and denim coat. Annie frowns herself and looks at the window just to roll her eyes with another exasperated sigh as she sifts the blend into a silk tea bag to plop into the kettle.

 There, trudging through the falling snow in just a trench coat, hat, and scarf with a messenger bag clutched in his ungloved fist, is Stack. Annie giggles at the scolding Smoke was laying into his brother as he hurries over the yard while the younger twin slips ’n’ slides on the ice slick footpath. Annie watches as the two basically collide together trying to stop the other from slipping on the ice which inspires a whole new slew of scolding to leave Smoke’s mouth as they hit the snowy ground anyway. She giggles harder yet reluctantly pulls on a long cardigan over her thin house-dress for modesty-sake.

“And why the hell you out in this?!” Smoke’s voice booms as the two finally make it back to the poach in one piece. Stack hurries to knock the snow off his boots and leaves them just in the doorway first, rolling his eyes at Smoke’s questioning. Stack makes a point to toss his snowy coat onto Smoke, making sure the cold of it hits his brother in the face. 

“I can’t visit my damn brother and sister-in-law anymore?” Stack argues back before yelping as Smoke slaps snow onto the back of his head with a satisfied smirk at the younger’s jumping shiver. Stack flicks him off as he turns into the kitchen to smile brightly at Annie, the last of his shivers starting to melt in the warmth of her house. He pulls her into a half hug that makes her flinch from the cold but still grin.

“Hey Annie-girl!”

“Hey, ‘Lias.”

“Not in a damn ice storm, ya can’t!” Smoke argues as he puts away their coats. Stack waves him off before settling into the chair Smoke was occupying beforehand and starts to rub his hands together to warm them up.

“Well, I was about to die over at my house. So I gotta valid excuse.” Stack says and Annie gives him a bewildered look. 

“What’s wrong? Heater dead?” Annie asks as she sets up two mugs with generous amounts of clove-infused honey into the bottoms before slowly pouring her custom tea.

“Well my dear Annie! It’s pretty simple… I was bored.” Stack explains with a serious expression that cracks into a sly grin as Annie chuckles. 

“Stack…. Git outta my house.” Smoke deadpans and that sends the chuckles into cackles from Annie.

“Wow! My own brother! Wanna cast me out into the cold and frozen streets to suffer! To frost over, fall and shatter into ice! Annie, how'd you meet such a cruel man!” Stack overreacts, moping in performance. Smoke scowls as he takes out the other chair and crosses his glorious arms, now hidden by a sweater.  

“Ah, you’d be a’ight nigga.”

“Elijah, be nice to lil brother.” Annie teases with a kiss to the side of her husband’s head as she settles one of the aphrodisiac mugs in front of him and warms her hand on her own. She then prepares the other kettle with plain water to boil once again. She contemplates making it all chamomile and lavender to knock her brother-in-law out so she could get her nut in, in peace. 

“Yeah! Be nice to lil brother, like the woman said!” Stack places the messenger bag on the table and starts to dig through it. “ An’ for you Annie! I got some new records for ya, hot off the press outta Atlanta” Stack bribes her. Annie oohs while Smoke rolls his eyes and lights his pipe, she pulls out the small circle and eyes the label for a name. The only thing scrawled on the little paper circle of pink is “ Dirty Lucille.”

“So bored? Whatcha tryna do?” Annie asks Stack as she accepts the gift, being a proper host while Smoke takes a big sip of his tea in trying to warm back up. 

“Uhm, I don't know. What was ya’ll ‘bout to get into?”

“Hibernation.” Smokes deadpans, making Stack’s face drop into a matching look of disengagement as he turns his head to look at Annie, a move that says with not a word “this nigga.” Both men give soft smiles as Annie clutches her belly with laughter at the two's antics. She walks around the kitchen table, sipping her mug as she goes back towards the sitting room and further back to the bedroom.

“Give me a second. Let me get my donimos, work some money off the both of ya’. Elijah’s gonna wash the dishes.” Annie taunts with a wink as she leaves. Smoke unabashedly watches the heavy sway of her wide hips and bounce of her ass. So entranced in the look of his wife he didn’t notice Stack’s eyes roaming her over as well. He takes in her upper curves and the glistening skin of her neck that was showcased with her hair pulled up in a puff. 

Stack swallows heavily and rolls his toothpick over his teeth; he then gets up to busy himself so Smoke didn’t catch on to him. Stack snags another mug out the cupboard and hums at the two kettles. He eyes the one that already had the white ribbon of a tea bag hanging out of it and pours some from it along with two big scoops of sugar. He barely lets the cane sugar melt before taking back a big gulp and humming at the strong warming flavors.

Both brothers settle down, Stack rolling a cig to share when Annie comes back in with a cheshire grin and sets the bright blue tin full of dark wood dominos with dots of bold white on the table. She hands the tablet of paper to Stack, who automatically divides it into threes and puts little nicknames on top to signify who's who. Annie slides Smoke the thin domino stand out the box before dumping the little bricks onto the table and her Man starts to mix them with instigating clacks. 

“Now Annie, I love ya! But you just any ole nigga when it comes to dominos. I ain’t gonna be nice and soft like him.” Stack taunts with a point of his thumb to Smoke. Annie scoffs and flicks his forehead.

“You can keep runnin’ that mouth, cause I’m finna run them pockets.”

“My pockets!?”

“Imma start with ten dollars down, unless ya pussy?”

“American green?” Stack asks with a sly grin that turns wild as Annie pulls out a true ten dollar bill from her cleavage and slaps it down where the game is going to be built. Stack is quick to pull out a roll of cash  from his pocket and adds two tens in. 

Smoke smacks his lips then gasps when both brother and wife whip their heads around to him.

“Where’s ya bread bruh?”

“Hell nah, I ain’t sacrificing my green to you damn chickenheads!” Smoke swears as he pulls his seven dominos from the pile. 

“Dem sound like broke nigga words. Dem words all you can afford, Elijah?” Stack says. Smoke rolls his eyes watching Annie take a gulp of her tea and lick the lush of her lips.

“Ain’t broke, my habits keep me from that. Like not letting yo cotton-mouth ass con me.

“Ah, baby! I thought you just played in puss, not that ya was one.” Annie tuts next and Stacks hollers as Smoke gasps at his wife.

“Watcha self woman ‘fore I have ya bent over my knee wit something in ya mouth!”

“ ‘Long as some money on it! Put it in, Mister Moore.” Annie ends with a purr that makes both brothers shiver. Smoke kisses his teeth but takes his denim coat off, making a show of pulling out the roll from the inner pocket then tossing a twenty and ten on the pile. 

Just like that, the game begins. 

For the next 40 minutes nothing but rude taunts, flirty insults, and dominos slams fill the air of the little kitchen that gains so much heat the window fogs. All three mugs of Nice ‘n’ Warm are bone dry empty and sweat rolls down all three’s of their brows. Stack’s eyes damn near cross between looking at his hand of bricks and the glistening of Annie’s tiddies. She’s taken off her cardigan 20 minutes in, uncaring to the sharp side eye her husband gives her in favor of taking money out of his coat pocket. Annie’s plump mounds drag on the table before jostling back in place when she kicks back in her seat. The younger twin licks sweat off his upper lip before shedding off his sweater, leaving him in his undershirt.

“Feeling that heat, Stack? Can’t take it?’

“Oh I got sumthin’ you can take a’ight, Ann. Hard!” Stack bellows slamming down a double five brick and cackling as he adds 20 to his point count. He took the swift kick to his shin by Smoke like a champ, reveling as Annie pants in a frustration that seems to be more than just competition but a madness that was starting to plague him as well.

A tightness in his pelvis only a tiddy fuck or a taste of something pink may remedy. Not being teased by his brother’s wife just sitting there in all her thick and hot body glory. 

Smoke, of course, was worse off. His dick was straight hard, one hand commands his bricks and the other on Annie’s thigh gripping a bruise into the chocolate softness. Everytime she pressed her thighs together for friction he made a point to run his fingers down her panty-covered slit forcing her to open up and Annie forced out another flirt from her sinful mouth to pretend she had some kinda upper hand. 

“Fuck you! ‘Lijah! Play that gotdamn snake eye you got so I can getta twenty piece back!” Annie fusses and Smoke smacks his teeth in time with a swat to the side of her ass. The recoil of it aches his dick to just have Annie sit on his lap and remedy him. The memories of her riding him like she’s was a Kentcky pro on a mustang almost makes say fuck it to the game and fuck off to his brother. 

“I ain’t got shit but dick to give you, Woman!” he hisses out instead as he picks up the double one anyway. Annie’s giggle is twisted.

“Man, then put it on the table!”

 Annie rolls her eyes back and lets out a moan when Smoke teases her slit again and it becomes a bit too much. She presses her hand over her mouth in surprise that it came out of her. Both Smoke and Stack grow still as a cold night. That moan… it means something… it charges the space with pure lust and pushes boundaries. Annie yanks Smoke hand off her by the wrist and Stack swallows to see his twin’s hand glistening with that bit of wetness he’d sneakily been drawing out of her.

Thoughts of symmetry filled the younger twin's mind at that moment. 

Would his hand look the same if baptised by Annie?

Annie lets out a shaky breath, they watch her body bounce as Annie presses her legs together, and straightens up. Annie placed down her third domino with a soft click, it and the crackling of the oven the only sound among them. Stack squints at his dominos, he had two options.

Win the game but lose the sight of Annie. 

Stretch the bets and see where this goes.

Annie’s eyes go wide as Stack abruptly stands. Her jaw drops to see his dick just as hard as Smoke’s, both brother’s velvety girth’s throbbing in showcase through their pants. 

“Let’s put it on the table, Ann.” Stack offers. He barely gets a chance to breath before Smoke snatches him by the collar and nearly hauls him clear across the table. 

“Fuck you say, bruh?”

“You heard me, Annie-girl said put some dick on the table, why would I refuse the lady’s request?”

Annie is between the brothers in a flash. Pressing her back against Smoke to force him to put distance between himself and Stack then Annie lays her hands against Stack’s firm pecks and staggers him back a step.

Yet, she kept her hands on him.

“Elijah. Sinmi.” She commands him, her Man sucks in a breath with a bit of a hiss between the teeth but relents. His hands drift down to her supple waist and grip her flush against him with a grid forwards. The poke of dick-printed fabric against the back of her pussy is sticky with precum and makes Annie swallow down a throaty whimper at the tease. Stack watches her inspect him, his heart pounding at her calculating glances as she undresses him with her eyes. Annie’s hands skim down his front until they rest on his waistband and from there she pops off his buckle. Stack thrust forward a bit so his pants don’t fully fall off then and there.

“Fuck this game.” Annie says. Stack eyes go wide as Smoke’s hands surge up Annie’s body to grasp Annie’s tiddies in two gripping, overspilling handfuls of plump, brown flesh. He bends down and licks a kiss onto Annie’s neck with a glare of possession.

“Yeah, fuck this game. Take yo ass on home, nigga. Annie, take yo ass on to the bedroom before I put cha on this table again.”

Annie shutters for a moment, hands flying up to his ear and tugging down it lightly with her nails.

“You ain’t the one decidin’ the game ‘ere. Ms. Annie is.” Stack stands his ground with a nod. Annie chuckles darkly at that, a throaty sound that damn near vibrates through both siblings. 

“Annie?” Smoke asks into her hair. Annie trails her hand down from Smoke’s head, then back onto his body until it runs lightly over his hardness.

“I do like a quick game….” Annie teases as she clutches him a bit and Smoke curses under his breath. Annie presses forward now, basically dragging Smoke forward as she plays her free hand down Stack’s pants. 

“Ah, shit!” He girts out as Annie gently but firmly grips around the base of his shaft. The rest of Annie fingers palm around the side, on instinct her fingertips glide and tease the vein on the left. Annie hums with intrigue, like she just invented something special or discovered something unknown to the world. 

“Damn. Ya’ll twins all the way down.” She tells them both, a desperate lick around her lips to hold back the need to salivate. As she holds both brothers now, Annie can’t help but feel a deep pressure in her core, a greedy yearning for the girth of both of ‘em to be in her in any way.

“We gonna play a quick game of bones. First person to 50, get to pick how this is goin’ down. Imma even be a little nice.  Ya win a five ya get five. Ya win a ten, ya getta ten. Ya win a 20, ya getta 20.” Annie tells them both. 

“Get 20 of what, Woman?” Smoke asks and Annie smirks. 

“20 seconds to prove something.”

Both brothers stiffen at that. She may as well have told two lions that the bone yard decided whose gonna run priderock. Annie looks at both of them with side eyes and both give matching deep grunting groans as she tightens her grip on their shafts to command attention. To command the reaction she wants.

“Yes ma’am.” They both say, it sends a pulse of pleasure through Annie’s pussy. 

Smoke and Stack sit across from each other now. Smoke’s look of righteous fury and possession against Stack’s looks of sly satisfaction and fascination. Annie eyes them both with determined lust and hunger. She flips their old game over and mixes the dominos with fast hands. Stack scratches the old game, Smoke lights the discarded cigarette and makes a point to blow the cloud straight over the dominos and into Stack’s face. 

“Ladies’ first.” Stack says as soon as Annie finishes the mix. She bites her cheek coyly and picks five. 

“Childen next.” Smoke grumbles. Stack smacks his lips as the second youngest there and takes his five. 

“Poppa’s last.” Annie teases. Stack gives a dry laugh as Smoke smirks through his selection. 

“Big six?” Annie asks. 

No one moves. 

“Double fives?” she asks again. 

Stack grins as he flips it out. 

“Ten.” He says aloud as he writes down the O on the paper. Annie’s shoulder hitch as she tries to hold back a chuckle at the sight of Smoke puffing like a dragon. 

“That’s ten Mississppis. Smoke, count ‘em.” Annie tells them.

Stack stands up, and comes to the side of Annie. She looks up at him with her doe eyes blown wide through lusty lashes and it makes him pause with a deep swallow.

“You need me to turn?” Annie asks him before he can say anything. 

“7 seconds nigga.” Smoke grumbles. 

Stack’ hands are gentle as he cuffs both of her sweat-damp breasts, palming them with increasing firmness, testing the plump flesh. Liftin’ em. Letting them drop so they bounce. Teasing the nipples hard with a roll between his thumbs and pointers.  Annie’s hand goes between her legs to press a thumb on her clit as the stimulation makes her pussy wet, needy to be played with. Stack makes a show of giving her a big wet kiss that is more a clash of teeth then something proper. A taste of the tongue, Stack goes to glance over at Smoke with a prideful smirk but Annie’s smack on the side of his thigh with her free hand turns his attention back to her. 

“Full attention soldier.” Annie commands him. Stack gives a nod, mesmerised by her before he backs off and back to his seat when Smoke barks out the last number to him. Smoke scoff, “Tiddy baby.” he taunts and Annie smacks her lips. 

“Did you forget how you sleep? Play ya hand ‘fo ya piss me off.” Annie strikes. Smoke smacks his lips but plays a throwaway hand, Annie matches it. Stack’s forced to match it, all of them are crossed legged in the pressure. Smoke tosses another hand and Annie strikes with a smirk, linking a three with the two on the opposite side of the layout.

“Five.” Annie announces, watching Stack mark it before she stands. She circles the both of them, eyes scanning for selection on who’s gonna get her little bit of time. Annie dips her head down allowing only a few millimeters of distance, damn near hovering her juicy lips from either of ‘em. Cinnamon laced breath puffing temptation onto either of the brothers’ ears but never delivering.

Smoke lets out another tobacco cloud to billow over his lips as Annie lingers around the back of Stack’s neck. The elder watches with piercing jealousy as Stack inhales Annie’s scent and tips his head back for just a chance of her lips. Annie swerves back with a smirk as she makes her way over to Smoke instead. Annie’s hand cuffs his chin and pitches it up.

“Count ‘em.” Smoke growls as Annie lips damn near eat his down as they kiss. Annie hands rub Smoke’s neck as her man grips her ass and pulls her closer. Stack rolls his lips in as he watches the way Annie’s ass jiggles, the impressions of Smoke’s fingers into that softness, the way she drags her nails down the column of Smoke’s throat. 

“Five!” He grits out and Annie hums. She makes sure to smack loudly as she comes out of the kiss. Swatting Smoke’s hand down. Annie smirks before walking back to her seat.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The three of them play. 

“Your play, baby.” Annie reminds him.

Ten seconds - Smoke fingers into Annie for all ten counts until she panting.

Five seconds - Stack has Annie swirl her wet tongue around his tip.

Twenty seconds - Annie has Stack sucking her toes while she bites and sucks bruises into Smoke’s neck. 

Ten seconds - Stack leaves hickeys upon Annie left breast and damn near a bruise with his grip on her right. All while she grinds down deliciously on his lap.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Teases and preludes to something truly sinful. 

“Fifty!” Annie shouts as she slams down a double two that leaves her with the last ten points to win on the table. 

Both men practically sit at attention with anticipation for just what she could have in store for them. Annie leans forward, crossing her arms and leaning on one of her hands as she looks the two of them over.

Annie eyes Stack’s mouth as her hand drifts over to Smoke’s thigh. The many tales Mary shared to Annie about Stack’s gift for eating it come to mind. While Smoke wasn’t a chump of an eater, his skills were better used for drilling into her and tossing her around then just praying to pussy. She liked to make Smoke twitch, the back and forth of control was critical to her.

“Elias?” Annie asks after another minute, eyes low as her voice becomes sultry. She starts to palm and tease Smoke’s dick with her hand while commanding him. Stack hums, spitting his toothpick to the side at the sight of Annie jabbing a finger down. 

“You gonna defend your reputation?” She asks him.

With a shark-like grin, Stack sinks down off his chair, crawls under the table and pulls her legs apart.  Smoke blink harshly, flinching at Annie’s talented hand and the bump of her thigh now against his. He watches her gasp, head thrown back as Stack wretches her panties to the side and digs his nose straight in to get a smell of her pussy. That sensitivity Smoke has been building up all night putting her on edge. Annie places one hand on the back of Stack’s head, fucking up his waves as her fingertips push through the tamed curls. Her other beacons Smoke with a single curl of her pointer finger. 

“Stand.” Annie pants before moaning and trying to buck forward in her chair as Stack starts licking into her. Stack’s arms snake around her hips, pulling a leg over his shoulder to lock her in place so he can drill his tongue in deeper. His mustache scratches against the soft skin of her inner thighs making lightning crawl all over her down there when his lips peck her pearl.

Smoke does as instructed, standing up as he frees dick from his pants, letting it bob out, hard and veiny as it taps against the side of Annie’s jaw. Smoke girts his teeth as Annie turns her head towards him and starts to lick up the side of his shaft. Smoke shakes his head with a hiss as she swirls the tip, his hand cuffing the back of her head.

“All this craziness you talked, a ‘course you want somethin’ down ya throat for it.” Smoke scolds her. Annie hums, a smile in her eyes as she gazes up at him. Annie hollows out her cheeks, and slowly bobs down him, small chokes as his dick jumps in her mouth. She slides back off of him just as slowly, ending with a wet plop and whining moan. She clutches over Stack's head while he teases the pearl of her pussy properly with his tongue until her back arches as she squirts down the mouth muscle.

“You…fuc… you gonna shut me up?” She asks Smoke though broken moans.

Smoke is swift to swing his leg over so he straddles her in a stand and slips dick down her throat. 

Both moan aloud at the movement, Annie’s free hand claws at his hip and up his torso as Smoke start to fuck her face with a swift and damn near rough pace. His nails tangle into curls at the nape of her neck while he guides her head. Smoke swears at the sloppy noises the keen fromAnnie as she loses rhythm and bucks further onto Stack’s tongue. Her legs shake and threaten to damn near locking him in as she comes closer to orgasm. Stack hikes her leg up higher upon his shoulder and adds his thumb into her as well. 

Smoke gets tight as Annie uncontrollably hums her moan of pleasure out onto his shaft. Smoke wipes the tears off her cheek.

“Yeah, get the nut outta her bruh. I’m tryna see her cry on my shit.” Smoke growls. Smoke deepens his pace and Annie wraps both arms around his waist, nails digging into his lower back as he fuck her mouth. 

Annie cums apart as Stack spells his name inside her, pussy flowing down her chin to dribble onto his chest. He keeps lapping it up as Annie shivers and her knee presses onto the side of his face.  Smoke comes with a swearing shout. Annie whimpers with leaky tears as she swallows it in the midst of her own sex high. 

Stack takes a prize and crawls out from under the table, the front of him wet with Annie. He’s just in time to look up and see Smoke step out from in front of her. He takes in her heaving chest, blows out eyes, curls coming loose as she gasps with sticky lips. 

“You tryna see if we taste the same too, Annie-girl? I promise I’m sweeter.” Stack flirts as he whirls her panties around on his finger. He then balls it up and starts to wipe off his beard, his dick jumps at the fucked out look on Annie’s face. Annie stands, a stagger in her step for a moment that Smoke corrects. She pats his arm with gratitude before gesturing to him to sit back down himself. Smoke obliges, sitting with a heavy sigh as he watches her walk to the doorway, she looks over her shoulder and starts to roll down the straps off her nightgown..

“Fuck.”

“Lord, Ann!”

Annie giggles as the crumbled fabric falls to her feet and she stands naked before them both.

“Round twos in the bedroom boys, I gotta lay down. First one there is first one in.” 

Both brothers scramble in chase of her. 

----

Sunlight spills through the open nursery windows in thick golden ribbons, warm enough to turn the dust floating through the air into glitter. The gauzy curtains sway lazily with the breeze rolling in from the Quarter, carrying the scent of rain-damp pavement, magnolia blossoms, and the faint trace of incense burning downstairs on Annie’s altar. Wind chimes clink softly somewhere on the back gallery, mixing with the distant sound of a trumpet player serenading tourists three streets over. Outside, the city buzzes with its usual mix of music, heat, and morning chaos.

But in here, the world felt gentler.

Autumn babbles happily to herself from the patchwork quilt laid across the rug, tiny gold bangles jingling around her ankles every time she kicks her feet. Her fat cheeks puff around the big toe currently shoved in her mouth, suckling as though it were the finest delicacy in all of Louisiana. Her chocolate curls were wild from sleep and haloed by the morning light, making her look less like a baby and more like a cherub the ancestors had handcrafted for Annie and Smoke’s enjoyment alone. She was perfection.

Annie leans against the doorway with sleepy eyes, her satin robe resting loosely around her shoulder as she watches her daughter. Her hand lightly caresses the small protection sigil Smoke had discreetly painted in the threshold, the blackened symbol nearly invisible against the wood unless you knew what to look for.

“Those toes providing you enough nutrients,” Annie teases softly, “or would you like some goodness fresh from the tap?”

Autumn lets out an excited squeal at the sound of her mother’s voice, nearly choking on her own laughter as she rolls onto her belly. She kicks her legs wildly behind her, determined to army crawl across the blanket despite only managing a few pitiful inches.

“Mm-hmm,” Annie laughs under her breath. “There goes that impatience. You just like your daddy.”

Autumn answers with another delighted shriek at the mention of her father, reaching for her mother with clumsy little hands.

“Calm down,” Annie giggles, pushing herself off the doorway and crossing the nursery barefoot. The old wooden floor creaks beneath her steps. “I was going to come to you.”

She scoops her into her arms, breathing in that powdery baby scent mixed with shea butter and chamomile oil. The infant immediately tucks herself against her mother’s chest with a happy little sigh. Annie pulls down one side of her night gown and settles into the rocking chair near the window, letting Autumn latch while sunlight pours over them both in warm, honey-colored waves.

Downstairs, the coffee maker gives a soft ding, followed by the familiar sound of cabinet doors opening and closing somewhere beneath the nursery floor. Annie smiles to herself. Smoke was up.

A second later, music crackles low through the house from the old speaker he refused to replace. One of Sammie’s blues records. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was his little cousin’s biggest fan and owned every album he’d ever made on cassette, CD, and vinyl.

Before long, the scent of breakfast begins creeping upstairs. First coffee, dark and rich enough to wake the dead. Then butter hitting hot cast iron. Bacon shortly after that. Annie closes her eyes for a second when the smell of sautéed bell peppers and onions finally joins the mix, followed by the unmistakable scent of seasoned shrimp cooking in garlic and Cajun spices.

Smoke was making his famous shrimp and grits.

She could already picture him downstairs moving around the kitchen, half-dressed, tattoos peeking beneath a black tank top, while he stood over the stove with the same ridiculous amount of focus he put into everything. Probably dancing a little too, if the faint sound of cabinet tapping was anything to go by. A soft laugh leaves her throat.

Annie loved it when Smoke cooked. Not because he was good at it, though Lord knew he was. It was the care behind it that always got to her. The way he plated her food like it mattered. The way he remembered she liked extra cheese in her grits and her peaches sprinkled with sugar. The way he’d slide a cup of coffee into her hands before she even realized she needed one.

She always told him she could taste the love in his food. And every single time, Smoke would roll his eyes like she was being dramatic, even though the smug grin tugging at his mouth always gave him away.

“You wanna go say hi to daddy, babygirl? I’m sure he could use some of this good loving, too.” Autumn blinks up at her with sleepy, milk-drunk eyes, one hand still gripping Annie’s robe as she finishes feeding. A soft little sigh escapes her once she’s full, cheeks warm and round as she settles against Annie’s chest.

“Yeah,” Annie murmured, kissing the top of her curls. “That’s my spoiled girl.”

The old hardwood creaked beneath Annie’s bare feet as she carried Autumn downstairs, the smell of breakfast growing stronger with every step. Annie hums along to Sammie’s record as she crosses into the kitchen, and to her surprise, there are two Moore men waiting to greet her.

“There’s unc’s baby!” Stack grins the second he spots Autumn. His whole face lights up so fast Annie nearly laughs. “Come here, Moonbeam.”

Autumn squeals at the sound of his voice, immediately reaching for him with little grabby hands.

“Traitor,” Smoke snorts.

“Don’t be mad that I’m the favorite twin,” Stack shoots back, reaching out for his niece.

“You don’t even like kids,” Smoke mutters behind his coffee mug.

“Correction: I don’t like outside kids. Moonbeam is different.”

Annie laughs under her breath as Stack carefully scoops the chunky chocolate drop from her arms like she was made of glass. Autumn immediately tucks herself against his chest with a happy hum, tiny fingers grabbing onto the gold chain around his neck.

“Aht-aht,” Stack warns gently, untangling her fist before she could yank it hard enough to choke him. “That chain cost too much money for all that.”

Autumn only blinks at him before smacking her tiny palm against his cheek.

“That’s what your ass get,” Smoke says, barking out a laugh loud enough to echo through the kitchen.

“Abusive like her damn daddy,” Stack fusses as he rubs his cheek.

“You’ll be aight.”

Autumn yawns suddenly against Stack’s shoulder, tiny mouth stretching wide before her face buries into the crook of his neck. The fight drains out of her all at once.

“Annnd she’s out,” Smoke notes, pointing the spatula towards her.

“She’s been up since before sunrise,” Annie nods softly.

Stack glances down at the chocolate cherub curled against him, his expression softening so fast it almost didn’t look like him at all.

“Y’all eat. I got her.” “You sure?” Annie asks.

“Please,” he scoffs. “I’m Uncle Stack. My baby knows she’s in good hands like Allstate.” Smoke rolls his eyes, but doesn’t protest further.

Annie smiles as Stack disappears upstairs with Autumn resting against his shoulder, one massive hand spread protectively across her tiny back while he hums softly under his breath. A minute later, the house falls quiet again.

Sensing a chance to seize the opportunity, Smoke stalks quietly behind Annie before snatching her up, expertly pinning her back to the counter. He’d been eyeing the growing damp spot beneath the thin fabric of her night gown for the last ten minutes, and his patience had finally run dry.

“E-Elijah,” Annie breathes, though there’s no real threat behind it. “What are you doing?”

He answers by sliding the strap of her gown from her shoulder slowly, exposing warm brown skin and the fullness of her breast beneath the kitchen light. A fresh bead of milk gathers there, and the sight alone nearly drives him insane.

“Lord have mercy,” he mutters softly, more to himself than her.

Smoke leans down without another word, mouth closing around her with a quiet groan that sends electricity through Annie’s body. Her fingers tighten against the cool marble instantly while his tongue soothes and teases in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring her like something sweet he’d been craving all morning.

“Eliijahhh,” she whimpers as she squirms, attempting to free herself from his grasp.

“Be still, woman,” he fusses. “I’m tryna take care of you.” His free hand carefully glides up her thigh and finds solace in the slick between her legs. Annie’s knees buckle as his fingers expertly work that sensitive bundle of nerves while he indulges in his daughter’s life force, desperate to increase his calcium intake for the day.

“Aye, family! Baby Autumn is down for the coun—” Stack stops short in the kitchen doorway, one brow lifting slowly. “Now what the fuck y’all got going on in here?” 

Annie’s knuckles whiten from how tightly she grips the counter while Smoke nurses from her with a low hum of approval, his fingers working quickly under the hem of her dress.

“Well,” Stack drawls, dragging his gaze over the scene in front of him, “I see Autumn ain’t the only one that likes her milk from the tap.”

“Mind ya business,” Smoke mutters against Annie’s skin, though the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth ruins the threat completely. Stack only laughs, stepping farther into the kitchen. 

“Hard to mind my business when my brother got his wife soundin’ like a damn late-night R&B playlist at breakfast. And in front of my shrimp and grits, no less.”

Annie lifts her head just enough to glance at him over Smoke’s shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded and amused. 

“Then stop staring.”

“Nah,” Stack says easily, leaning against the island. “I’m entertained now.”

Smoke sucks his teeth while Annie fights a smile. The twins had always been dangerous together. Same crooked grin. Same wolfish confidence. But where Smoke burned low and steady, Stack carried chaos in his pockets like loose change.

“Careful, Stack,” Annie murmurs sweetly. “You keep looking at me like that, and your brother gon’ start growling.”

“He is already growling,” Stack shoots back instantly. “I heard him from the hallway.”

Smoke lifts his head just long enough to glare at him. “Get out my kitchen.”

“Make me.”

Stack watches from his spot against the island, arms folded tightly across his chest as he tries to ignore the growing tension low in his stomach every time Annie lets out another soft sound. He’d always thought she was the finest woman he’d ever seen, but watching her melt beneath Smoke’s touch nearly unraveled what little self-control he had left. The sight of her flushed and breathless had temptation crawling straight up his spine.

“Y’all nasty as hell,” he says after a beat, watching the way Annie’s eyes rolled back in her head as slick warmth slowly trails down her thigh.

“And yet you’re still watching instead of coming to do something about it,” Annie challenges.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Antoinette,” Stack warns, stalking closer to her. “I’ll have you in a puddle of ya own nut before you can blink.”

“All bark and no bite,” Annie teases, caressing the back of Smoke’s head as he strokes himself through his pajama pants. And in that moment, something in Stack snapped. One of his biggest pet peeves, and secret turn-ons, was a woman who challenged his manhood. He quickly closes the short distance between the island and Annie, attaching himself to her left breast in one fluid motion. Annie almost screamed at the sensation of having both twins on her at once while Smoke’s fingers still danced in her slick. 

“Oooh shiiiit,” she purrs, rolling her hips against Smoke’s rough fingers. 

Though she knew it was wrong, she’d often fantasize about how it would feel to have both twins worshipping her body, and now, here she was experiencing it in 8K. Though they were identical, each brother had his own way of pleasuring her that made her feel like a goddess being worshipped. Smoke took his time, slow and steady, like he enjoyed drawing every reaction out of her piece by piece. Everything he did felt deliberate. Controlled. The gentle pull of his mouth, the lazy flick of his tongue, the slow drag of his fingers between her thighs.

Stack was the complete opposite. He kissed her like he was starving and touched her like restraint had never once crossed his mind. Every impatient movement, every rough little sound he made against her skin sent another rush of heat straight through Annie’s body until she could barely think past the sensation of both brothers surrounding her at once.

“W-Wait,” she says as she feels that familiar bloom in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t want to cum yet, I want to play a game.”

Smoke ignores her initially, glaring daggers at Stack when he notices Annie’s moans growing louder because of him. The two carry on their silent bickering until Annie grips them both by their curls, lifting their heads to meet her gaze. The pair groan in frustration at the loss of contact. 

“I said I want to play a game,” Annie repeats, watching them both with lidded eyes. 

“A game?” Smoke echoes.

“What kind of game?” Stack presses.

“A game of willpower, between the two of you,” she coos, wrapping a hand around each of their third legs. Their dicks felt heavy in her hands as she mentally noted the similarities between them. They were both 9 ½ inches, with Smoke curving to the right and Stack curving to the left. Her pussy throbs as she imagines how it would feel to have one twin fucking her throat while the other fucks her into oblivion. 

“I’m going to stroke you both. Whoever cums first has to watch the other one fuck me.” They both stare at her blankly, blinded by the way her soft hands work them both with steady precision. Smoke weakens almost instantly, and it takes a moment for him to register the proposition.

“You must be out yo mind,” he growls through clenched teeth, eyes darting between his wife and his twin. But Annie ignores him and keeps stroking, her mouth secretly watering as both of their tips begin leaking precum. Stack remains quiet, except for the few small moans that escape his lips as Annie’s thumb swipes over the sensitive head of his dick. When he finally regains his voice, it’s to taunt his grumpy dopplegänger.

“What’s the matter, ‘Lijah? Scared you gone have to watch me bend your wife over?” he teases.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell,” Smoke barks back, already positioning himself back at Annie’s dripping right nipple. Her right hand strokes him with calculated motions, drawing curses from his lips like prayers.

“Gahdamn woman,” he moans, thrusting into her palm like he would her pussy.

“It’s just a friendly competition, ‘Lijah,” she mewls. “You can share me this one time.”

Smoke ignores his wife’s statement, opting to continue pumping his fingers in her slopping wet hole. He wasn’t in the mood to share his lover with his menace of a brother. All he wanted was to indulge in a little breastmilk and enjoy an early morning fuck. Part of him wanted to appease Annie and see where this little competition would lead, but the other side of him, the possessive, unstable side, wasn’t fully convinced. 

One second, his fingers were deep in her core, thrusting in and out. The next, he was curling them to hit that sweet spot that made her toes curl.

“I don’t like sharin’,” he grumbles.

“L-Lijah…”

He uses her moans as fuel to continue working his tongue and fingers until her orgasm rips through her before she has time to process it.

“Fuuuuuck!” she screams, before reeling her voice back in, afraid of waking Autumn.

Stack doesn’t falter. He uses his tongue to guide Annie through her orgasm and work her up for another one. Annie rewards him with a firm squeeze of his shaft.

“Damn Elias,” she purrs softly. “You might be the little brother, but that dick is full-grown.” Stack groans deeply against her chest as she uses his precum to stroke him faster. As much as he loves bringing a woman to her knees and turning her into his personal free-use doll, Stack’s ultimate kink is praise. He loves being told how good a job he’s doing or how well he’s pleasing his woman. 

Annie’s praises, coupled with the way her soft hands alternated between slow, deliberate strokes of his dick to fast, precise ones, had turned Stack into a leaking, moaning mess around her nipple. Shivers shoot down his spine as he tries his best to match the rhythm of her strokes with the flicks of his tongue. His orgasm was building fast.

“You’re being such a good boy for me, Elias,” Annie purrs. “I might let you fuck me just for that.”

Stack shoots Smoke a devilish grin as he suckles a mouthful of breastmilk. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Smoke. In one swift motion, he lifts Annie onto the island, spreading her legs as wide as they can go. 

“Say that shit again and I’ll edge you every night for the next week,” Smoke warns, positioning his face right in front of her dripping center. Annie bites her lip as she looks down to meet her husband’s gaze, shivering slightly at the menacing look in his eyes.

“You still wanna try that Eiffel Tower shit you showed me the other night?” he asks, lazily licking up her thigh before placing a gentle kiss on her pussy. The sensation pulls a desperate whimper from Annie’s lips.

“Eiffel Tower? Oh you nasty nasty, Mrs. Moore,” Stack smirks, pressing a trail of kisses from her nipple, down her stomach, and right on top of her mound. “I like it.”

Annie squirms in anticipation as the twins take their places, Stack at her head and Smoke between her legs. Her mouth waters as she comes face to shaft with Stack’s dick, the weight of him resting warm against her lips while that cocky grin slowly spreads across his face.

“Say ahh, pretty girl,” he purrs, amused at how quickly she complies. 

He carefully eases himself into her awaiting mouth, knees buckling as she expertly wraps her tongue around his thick tip. A soft curse slips from his throat almost instantly, one hand bracing against the counter while the other disappears into her curls.

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tipping back for a second before his eyes lock onto her again. “There she go.”

Annie looks up at him through heavy lashes, taking her time like she knows exactly what she’s doing to him. Every slow movement of her mouth pulls another strained sound from deep in his chest, his confidence cracking little by little beneath the heat of her attention.

“Shiiiit woman,” he growls through clenched teeth as he watches his dick disappear down Annie’s throat before reappearing again, completely covered in thick ropes of saliva. He rolls her nipples between his fingers, as she sucks him like her favorite popsicle on a warm, summer day. 

Smoke watches the exchange from his place between her legs with dark, possessive eyes, his hand sliding along her waist while Stack struggles to keep himself together above her. Without warning, he plunges deep into her sex, pulling a strangled moan from her throat. Annie squirts unintentionally on impact, but Smoke keeps on fucking. Annie gasps softly as Smoke buries himself against her neck with a low sound that barely sounds human anymore. The friendly competition between brothers had become possessive.

Smoke had always worshipped Annie openly. Anybody with eyes could see that. The soft kisses against her forehead when she was tired. The way he fixed her coffee exactly how she liked it every morning without asking. The way his hand automatically found the small of her back whenever they walked through a crowded room.

But moments like this pulled something rougher out of him. Something territorial. He was more than willing to give Annie anything under the sun. Jewelry, time, devotion. Hell, blood if she wanted it.

But her pussy? That was his and his alone. And judging by the dark look in his eyes, Smoke intended to remind everybody in the room of that fact.

“Now what was all that shit you was talking about Elias fucking my pussy?” he mutters against her skin, voice rough enough to send heat rushing through her chest. Annie could barely form words, let alone answer him. Her thoughts had melted into scattered fragments somewhere between Stack teasing her nipples and the overwhelming sensation of Smoke filling her to the hilt.

Stack fists her curls, driving himself deeper down her throat as the coils in the pit of his stomach began to unravel.

“Anniiiieeeeee,” he moans as she wraps her hand around the base of his dick, using both her mouth and hand simultaneously to encourage his release. She pulls him out of her mouth just as cum flies out in thick ropes, covering her supple breasts in his unborns.

“Shiit!” he rasps, planting both hands beside her head as he struggles to catch his breath. Annie takes in the sight with pride before shifting her attention to her husband. She readjusts, locking her thick thighs around Smoke’s waist, winding her hips to match his thrusts.

“Cum in your pussy, Papa,” she purrs, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. “It’s yours. Claim it.”

And with that, the little resolve Smoke had left diminished. The feeling hit him hard and sudden, ripping through his body with enough force to leave his knees weak beneath him. A broken sound tore from his chest as he buried his face against Annie’s neck, teeth sinking lightly into her skin while he tried to ride out the overwhelming rush of it. She shivers at the feeling of his mouth against her neck, immediately threading her fingers into his curls while trying to steady her own breathing. Smoke was gone now. This was Elijah again.

“Damn,” Stack laughs softly under his breath, shaking his head while Smoke stays buried against Annie’s throat. “Boy sound like he just saw God.”

Smoke blindly flips him off, keeping his position on Annie’s chest. She laughs, breathless and warm despite the exhaustion settling into her limbs.

“Y’all are ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love us,” Stack retorts, tugging his sweats back on. He pulls his shirt over his head just as a sharp cry crackles through the baby monitor sitting forgotten near the fruit bowl.

All three of them freeze before another cry follows, loud and offended.

“Oh, she up,” Annie sighs instantly, already trying to sit up, despite Smoke’s large body still pinning her to the island. He groans dramatically.

“Swear that child got the worst timing I ever seen,” he fusses as he reluctantly sits up.

“She your child,” Stack reminds him, making his way towards the stairs as Autumn’s angry little cries echo through the speaker. “Y’all stay cuddled up. Uncle Stack can take it from here.”

“Still tryna solidify your spot as her favorite twin,” Annie accuses.

“Because I am her favorite,” he yells back confidently before disappearing up the stairs. A few seconds later, the crying softens upstairs, replaced by the faint sound of Stack’s voice talking nonsense to calm her down. Smoke watches Annie with tired eyes and a crooked smile.

“The way he acts, you’d think she was his child.”

“In his mind, she is.”

•

•

•

•

•

Annie when Stack stood over her:

Annie loved Smoke long before she ever lit a candle for him. That’s the part she needs to say first, because everything else sounds ugly without it.

She loved him when he was already dangerous. Loved him when his hands were steady and his reputation wasn’t. Loved him knowing exactly what kind of man he was, and marrying him anyway.

But loving a man like Smoke meant always being aware of how easily things could be taken away.

People like him didn’t get to live soft lives. They didn’t get guarantees. And Annie had been raised knowing that when the world won’t protect what you love, sometimes you do it yourself.

So she did the work.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing cruel. A sweetening. A keeping. Something meant to encourage what was already there, not force something new into being. She told herself it was harmless. She told herself she was protecting her marriage.

She never thought of it as control.

At first, nothing seemed different.

Smoke still came home every night. Still touched her like she mattered. Still loved her in the quiet, deliberate way that had made her choose him in the first place.

Then, slowly, his love sharpened.

He became more attentive. More precise. He noticed things Annie didn’t say aloud. He remembered every detail of her routines, her moods, her silences. He stopped asking questions and started anticipating answers.

And the world around her began to change.

People backed off without explanation. Problems dissolved before they reached her. Doors opened that Annie hadn’t known were closed. Smoke’s presence wrapped tighter around her life, until there was nowhere she went that didn’t feel secured.

He never frightened her.

That was the worst part.

Smoke was gentler than ever with her. Softer. More patient. As if all the violence in him had found a single, acceptable direction.

Her.

That was when Annie understood she had misjudged the work.

The spell hadn’t bent Smoke. It had removed his restraint.

What she thought would fade had instead settled in, rooting deeper with every day he chose her without hesitation. The work didn’t weaken with time. It grew stronger because Smoke never resisted it.

And Annie began to realize something she wasn’t ready to face.

She hadn’t created his devotion. She had simply given it permission to grow unchecked.

Loving someone made you do reckless things. And sometimes, the most dangerous thing you could do was try to keep what already wanted to stay.

Annie wakes before her alarm most mornings.

Not because she has to be anywhere early, but because Smoke is already awake. He’s always up first, even when he comes home late. The house is never still without him noticing.

She moves slow, careful not to wake him, though he always knows anyway. By the time she reaches the kitchen, the coffee is already on. Not fresh every time—just warm enough to tell her he’s been thinking ahead.

Smoke likes routines. Annie does too. It makes things easier.

She drinks her coffee at the counter, barefoot, scrolling through her phone. Messages answered before she remembers sending them. Appointments already confirmed. Groceries delivered on the days she usually forgets to go.

None of it feels forced. That’s what makes it dangerous.

When she leaves the house, she locks the door out of habit, even though she knows it doesn’t matter. The neighborhood is quiet. Too quiet sometimes. People wave. People look away. Nobody lingers.

At work, Annie keeps her head down. She does her job, smiles when she needs to, goes about her day without trouble. There is never trouble. Not anymore.

Lunch shows up when she forgets to bring it. Her favorite. Always right.

She doesn’t ask how Smoke knows.

By the time she gets home, the house smells like him—clean, dark, familiar. If he isn’t there yet, she can feel that he will be soon. The certainty settles into her bones like something earned.

In the evenings, Annie tends to her plants. Waters them carefully. Talks to them under her breath. The altar stays tucked away, untouched, just as it has been for weeks. She tells herself she’s letting things rest.

Smoke watches her from the doorway sometimes, quiet, unreadable. When she looks up, he smiles like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong.

Dinner is calm. Conversation easy. Smoke asks about her day even though he already knows the answers. He listens anyway.

When night comes, he locks the house himself. Checks the doors. The windows. The perimeter. Annie never asks why. She never needs to.

In bed, Smoke’s arm settles around her waist, heavy and sure. He sleeps lightly. Always facing her. Always close enough to feel her breathe.

Annie stares at the ceiling in the dark, counting the familiar sounds of a house that has never once failed to protect her.

She tells herself this is what safety feels like.

She tells herself love is supposed to be steady. Predictable. All-encompassing.

Still, sometimes, when Smoke’s grip tightens just a little in his sleep, Annie wonders when care became surveillance—and whether she’d notice if it crossed the line.

The days pass smoothly.

Too smoothly.

Annie wakes before the alarm, the house already aware of her. Smoke is behind her, arm firm around her waist, breath slow against the back of her neck. He’s been awake a while. He always is.

She slips free gently. He lets her go.

Coffee waits in the kitchen, still warm. Annie wraps her hands around the mug, grounding herself in the normalcy of it. Footsteps sound behind her—unhurried, confident.

“Morning, baby,” Smoke says.

“Morning.”

He pours his coffee and leans against the counter, eyes on her without pretending otherwise.

“What you doin’ today?”

She keeps her voice easy. “Mary asked me to go shoppin’ with her.”

Smoke hums, low in his throat. “Did she now.”

“Yeah. Nothin’ big.”

“How long?”

“Couple hours. Maybe more.”

He takes a slow sip. Watches her over the rim of the cup.

“Downtown?”

“Yes.”

“With your car?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretches. Not awkward. Intentional.

“You didn’t mention this last night,” Smoke says.

Annie shrugs. “Didn’t seem important.”

His mouth curves—not quite a smile.

“Everything you do is important to me.”

There it is. Soft. Absolute.

She shifts her weight. “I’ll text you.”

“I know you will,” he says. “You always do.”

He steps closer. Not crowding her. Claiming the space. His hand settles at her lower back, warm and steady.

“You keep your phone on,” he continues. “Sound on.”

“Okay.”

“And you don’t wander.”

Annie lets out a small laugh, trying to lighten it. “I’m goin’ shoppin’, Smoke. Not disappearin’.”

His fingers press in just slightly.

“I know where you’re goin’,” he says calmly. “I just like knowin’ where you are.”

She looks up at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I make sure of that.”

The words sit heavy between them.

Smoke reaches into his wallet and hands her his card. “Use this.”

“I don’t need—”

“Use it,” he repeats, gentle but final. “I don’t want you worryin’ about money when you’re out.”

Annie slips it into her purse.

He leans down and kisses her forehead, lingering longer than necessary.

“Call me if you need anything,” he says.

“I will.”

He straightens, already composed again.

“Oh,” Smoke adds casually, like an afterthought, “be home before it gets too late.”

She hesitates. Just a flicker.

“I’ll see how the day goes,” she says.

His eyes sharpen. Just a touch.

“I said before it gets too late, baby.”

She nods. “Okay.”

Smoke watches her grab her keys. Watches her walk to the door.

“Annie,” he says.

She turns.

His voice is calm. Almost fond.

“Have fun shoppin’. I’ll be thinkin’ about you.”

The door closes softly behind her.

Smoke stands alone in the kitchen, listening to the sound of her car pulling away. He checks his phone. Routine broken. Adjustments already being made.

And Annie doesn’t tell him about the club.

They take lunch at a little place Mary likes—nothing fancy, just booths worn smooth and sweet tea strong enough to bite back. Annie sits across from her, purse tucked close to her side, phone face-down on the table like it might buzz if she looks at it too long.

Mary watches her over the rim of her glass.

“You good?” Mary asks. “You been starin’ at that tea like it owe you money.”

Annie blinks, smiles. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Mary hums. She doesn’t believe her, but she lets it sit. For now.

They eat a few minutes in silence. Forks clink. Outside, cars pass, life moving like it always does.

Then Mary sets her fork down.

“Annie,” she says slowly, voice low, “you ever think Smoke love you a little… too hard?”

Annie stiffens. Just a hair.

“What you mean by that?” she asks, careful.

Mary shrugs, but her eyes stay sharp. “I mean the man don’t blink unless you blink first. He know where you at before you do half the time.”

“That’s just him,” Annie says. “He protective.”

Mary lets out a short laugh. “Baby, that ain’t just protective.”

Annie frowns. “You sound like you don’t like him.”

“I like him just fine,” Mary says. “I just ain’t blind.”

She leans forward, voice dropping like she don’t want the walls listenin’.

“You remember that boy,” Mary continues, “the one from Jackson? Couple years back.”

Annie’s fingers curl around her fork. “What boy.”

Mary gives her a look. “Don’t do that. The one flirted with you at that bar. Wouldn’t leave you be.”

Annie exhales. “That was nothin’.”

“Uh-huh,” Mary says. “And then a week later, they find him in a ditch off Highway 61.”

Annie’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “That ain’t got nothin’ to do with Smoke.”

Mary’s mouth tightens. “Police still ain’t solved that.”

“People die every day,” Annie says lightly. “Especially men who don’t know when to mind their business.”

Mary studies her. “You didn’t even tell Smoke about that boy flirtin’ with you, did you?”

Annie doesn’t answer right away.

“He knew anyway,” Mary goes on. “Didn’t he.”

Annie looks up then. “Mary.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Mary says, hands up. “I love you. You family. And family look out for each other.”

“So is Smoke,” Annie replies, sharper now. “He my husband.”

“I know,” Mary says softly. “And that’s what scare me.”

Annie shakes her head, pushing her plate away. “You always been dramatic.”

Mary snorts. “Girl, we from the Delta. We call things what they are.”

She leans back, sighs. “All I’m sayin’ is… obsession don’t always come with yellin’ and fists. Sometimes it come quiet. Smilin’. Polite.”

Annie reaches for her phone, flips it face-up. No notifications. Nothing wrong.

“He loves me,” Annie says. “That’s all.”

Mary watches her a long moment. Then nods.

“Alright,” she says. “Long as you happy.”

“I am,” Annie answers quickly.

Mary picks up her tea again, but her eyes don’t leave Annie’s face.

Outside, Annie’s phone vibrates once. Just a single buzz.

She doesn’t look at it.

The club is louder than Annie expected.

Bass thumps through the floor, up her legs, into her chest. Lights cut the room in red and violet, faces blurring together until nobody looks real anymore. Mary moves like she belongs here, already smiling, already waving down the bartender.

Annie stays close. Too close.

Mary glances back at her, eyes narrowing just a touch. “You stiff as a board, girl.”

“I ain’t,” Annie says, but her shoulders are tight, her jaw locked.

Mary leans in so Annie can hear her over the music. “You look like you expect somebody to snatch you up any second.”

Annie exhales, rubs her palms together. “I didn’t tell Smoke I was comin’ here.”

Mary stops smiling.

“Oh,” she says. Then—unexpectedly—she laughs. Loud. Sharp. “Lord, Annie.”

That laugh hits wrong. Annie’s chest tightens.

“It ain’t funny,” Annie mutters.

Mary wipes at her eyes, still grinning. “Baby, I ain’t laughin’ at you. I’m laughin’ ‘cause you actin’ like you done committed a federal crime.”

“You don’t understand,” Annie says. “He don’t like surprises.”

Mary sobers a little, studying her face. “You scared?”

Annie hesitates. “I just… feel off.”

Mary leans closer, voice dropping. “Listen to me. If Smoke wanted to know where you at, he’d already know.”

That does not help.

Annie swallows. “That ain’t comfortin’, Mary.”

Mary sighs. “Okay. Fair.”

She turns to the bartender. “Two shots. Somethin’ strong.”

Annie shakes her head. “I don’t—”

“You do,” Mary cuts in gently. “You been wound tight all day. One night ain’t gon’ kill you.”

The shots slide across the bar. Clear. Sharp. Honest.

Mary lifts hers. “To breakin’ routine.”

Annie stares at the glass like it might answer her back.

Mary nudges her elbow. “Come on. You married, not imprisoned.”

Annie lets out a weak laugh and lifts the shot.

They drink.

The burn is immediate. Annie coughs, eyes watering.

“See?” Mary says. “Still alive.”

Annie laughs despite herself, shoulders loosening just a fraction.

They move onto the dance floor. Mary sways easy, hands in the air. Annie follows, slower, letting the music carry her. For a moment—just a moment—she forgets to think.

Then her phone vibrates against her hip.

Once.

Annie freezes.

Mary notices instantly. “You good?”

Annie forces a smile. “Yeah. Just—vibration.”

“You ain’t gotta check it,” Mary says, reading her too well.

Annie doesn’t. She dances. Tries to. The lights flash. The music pounds.

But she feels it then—like a shift in the room. Nothing obvious. Just a sense of being noticed.

Mary leans in again. “You want another shot?”

Annie hesitates.

Then nods. “Yeah.”

Mary grins. “That’s my girl.”

They head back to the bar. Annie doesn’t see the man near the wall lift his phone. Doesn’t hear the quiet confirmation sent with no words attached.

They’re on their tenth shot by the time they give up dancing and collapse onto barstools, knees knocking, laughter spilling out of them like it’s something they can’t hold anymore. The club is packed wall to wall now—sweat, perfume, bass so loud it rattles your teeth. Annie’s cheeks hurt from smiling. 

For the first time all night, her shoulders are loose.

Mary is mid-sentence, eyes drifting over the crowd the way she always does, still talking, still laughing—then she stops.

Just freezes.

Her hand lifts slowly, hovering like she forgot what she meant to do with it. Her face drains of color in a way the lights can’t hide.

Annie notices immediately. “Mary?” she slurs softly, leaning closer. “What’s wrong with you?”

Mary doesn’t answer. Doesn’t blink. Her eyes are locked on something behind Annie, wide and unmoving.

“Mary,” Annie repeats, a little sharper now. She follows Mary’s gaze.

And her stomach drops.

Smoke stands near the back of the bar like he’s always belonged there. Dark suit. Calm posture. Whiskey glass resting easy in his hand. He isn’t searching. He isn’t angry. He’s already found what he came for. His eyes are on Annie—steady, unreadable, patient.

The noise of the club seems to dull around him.

Annie’s lips part in something that might be a smile. Her heart is hammering, but she lifts her chin anyway, offers him that soft, practiced curve of her mouth like she’s done nothing wrong.

Smoke doesn’t smile back.

He just raises the glass and takes a slow sip, eyes never leaving hers.

Mary finally exhales, voice barely making it past the music. She turns her head toward Annie, not breaking eye contact with Smoke.

“Do you believe me now,” Mary says quietly, “or you still think that’s just love?”

And just when Annie thinks her heart can’t sink any lower, someone steps into her space.

He’s loud in that confident, careless way—smile easy, cologne strong, leaning one elbow on the bar like he owns the place. “Hey,” he says, eyes dragging over her. “You been starin’ all night or is that just me hopin’?”

Annie gives him one glance. Just a moment. Long enough to know this is a mistake.

When she looks back to where Smoke was standing—

He’s gone.

No glass. No shadow. No trace. Like he was never there at all.

Annie’s breath catches. Her fingers dig into the edge of the bar. Mary stiffens beside her, panic flashing across her face. They both start scanning the crowd, turning too fast, bumping shoulders. The bass keeps pounding like nothing’s wrong.

“Uh—hello?” the guy chuckles, misreading everything. “I’m talkin’ to you, sweetheart.”

Annie doesn’t answer. Her pulse is in her throat now.

The guy leans closer, lowering his voice. “Name’s—”

A presence cuts between them.

Sudden. Solid. Cold.

Smoke is there.

He doesn’t touch the man. Doesn’t raise his voice. He simply steps close enough that the guy has to look up at him. Smoke’s hand settles on the bar, casual as sin, whiskey glass back where it was like it never left.

“That’s my wife,” Smoke says quietly, each word pressed flat with meaning.

The guy laughs once, nervous. “Hey man, I didn’t know—she ain’t got a ring on or—”

Smoke tilts his head, studying him like a problem already solved.

“You see her look at you?” Smoke asks. “At any point?”

The guy hesitates. “I mean—”

“‘Cause I been watchin’,” Smoke continues, voice still calm. “And she ain’t invited you into her space. Not with her eyes. Not with her mouth. Not with nothin’.”

Silence blooms around them, even with the music still roaring.

Smoke leans in just enough for the man to smell the whiskey on his breath. “Now you got two choices,” he murmurs. “You can walk yourself out that door and forget her face. Or you can stay right here and give me a reason to remember yours.”

The guy swallows. Hard.

“Didn’t mean no disrespect,” he mutters, backing away already.

Smoke doesn’t watch him leave.

His eyes are back on Annie.

And when he finally speaks to her, it’s soft. Possessive. Almost tender.

“Baby,” he says, “what’d I tell you ‘bout wanderin’ off without me knowin’?”

Annie opens her mouth fast, words tripping over each other. “Smoke, I—listen, it ain’t like that. We was just—Mary wanted—”

Smoke lifts one finger.

Just one.

That’s all it takes.

“Baby,” he says low, not even looking at her yet, “you done made your point clear the second you didn’t say a word to me this mornin’.”

His hand comes to the small of her back—firm, claiming. Not rough. Worse than rough. Certain. Annie feels it all the way down her spine.

“I asked you where you was goin’,” he continues, eyes still forward. “You told me shoppin’. That’s it.”

“I didn’t think—” Annie starts.

Smoke finally turns his head, dark eyes cutting into her. “That right there,” he murmurs, “is the problem.”

Then he looks at Mary.

Mary straightens instinctively, like she just got called into a principal’s office she didn’t know existed.

“Mary,” Smoke says calmly, like they’re talkin’ about the weather, “Stack’s outside. Been waitin’ on you.”

Her jaw drops. “Stack? He—he don’t even like clubs.”

Smoke’s mouth twitches. Not a smile. “No. He don’t like surprises either.”

Mary’s face drains of color. She looks at Annie once, eyes wide, a silent I told you so screaming between them.

Smoke doesn’t give either of them time to argue.

He takes Annie’s hand—interlocking their fingers this time, slow and deliberate—and starts walking. Mary follows without a word. The crowd parts for Smoke without even knowin’ why, bodies shifting instinctively out of his way.

The night air hits them hard when they step outside. Cool. Sharp. Sobering.

A black car idles at the curb, engine humming low. Stack leans against it, arms crossed, watching Mary like he’s been patient far longer than he wanted to be.

Smoke stops. Turns to Annie.

His thumb brushes over her knuckles, almost gentle. Almost loving.

“You scared me tonight,” he says quietly. “And you know how I get when that happens.”

Annie’s throat tightens.

Smoke leans in, forehead resting against hers, voice dropping to something only she can hear.

“And baby,” he adds softly, dark as sin, “we’re gonna talk about why you felt like you had to hide from me.”

The car hums low as it pulls onto the road, the city lights thinning out behind them. Annie sits stiff in the passenger seat, knees pressed together, hands folded so tight her fingers ache. Smoke drives with one hand on the wheel, calm as ever, like the night didn’t just crack something open between them.

She tries once more. Softer this time.

“How’d you know I was there?” she asks. “At the club.”

Smoke doesn’t answer. His eyes stay on the road. The silence feels deliberate, like he’s letting it weigh on her.

“Smoke,” she says again, louder now. “I’m talkin’ to you.”

“I heard you,” he replies evenly. “Don’t mean I gotta explain myself.”

That does it. Something sharp rises in her chest.

“Then explain this,” Annie says, her voice trembling despite herself. “That boy.”

Smoke’s jaw tightens—just a fraction. He doesn’t slow the car.

“The one who flirted with me at the gas station,” she continues, words spilling now. “The one they found dead in a ditch. You remember him?”

Silence.

The car passes under a streetlight, and for a split second she sees Smoke’s face clearly. Calm. Focused. Unbothered.

“You told me it was just bad luck,” Annie whispers. “You told me not to think about it.”

Smoke exhales slowly. “And yet here you are.”

Her heart starts racing. “Did you have somethin’ to do with it?”

He doesn’t say yes.

He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he turns onto a darker road, tires crunching softly over gravel before merging back onto asphalt. His voice, when it comes, is low and measured.

“That boy didn’t know how to mind his place,” Smoke says. “Didn’t know when a thing was already owned.”

Annie’s breath catches. “I ain’t owned.”

Smoke finally looks at her then. Not angry. Not accusing.

Certain.

“You my wife,” he says. “That means the world treats you different.”

Her hands start shaking. “That don’t give you the right to—”

“To what?” he interrupts quietly. “Protect what’s mine?”

She swallows hard. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

Smoke’s mouth curves slightly—not a smile. Something colder.

“Deserve ain’t got nothin’ to do with it,” he says. “This ain’t church.”

Tears blur her vision. “So you’re sayin’ you killed him.”

Smoke reaches over and laces his fingers through hers, grounding, warm. His thumb rubs slow circles into her skin.

“I’m sayin’,” he murmurs, “that some folks don’t make it home when they cross lines they shouldn’t have crossed.”

Her voice breaks. “You’re talkin’ around it.”

“Because I don’t need to say it,” he replies. “You already understand.”

Annie pulls her hand back, pressing it to her chest like it hurts. “That’s not love, Smoke.”

He nods once, like he’s considered that before. “Maybe not the kind they write songs about.”

The car slows at a stop sign. Smoke leans back in his seat, turning fully toward her now. His eyes are dark, intense—but still gentle.

“But it’s the kind that keeps you breathin’,” he says softly. “The kind that makes sure no one ever hurts you twice.”

Annie stares at him, realization settling heavy and unavoidable.

When Annie gets home, the house feels heavier than it should.

Same walls. Same furniture. Same faint smell of incense that never quite leaves. Nothing looks different, and yet everything feels wrong, like the air itself is holding its breath.

She slips her shoes off by the door and just stands there.

All she can think about is how this might be her fault.

The ride home replays in her head in broken pieces—Smoke’s calm voice, the way he wouldn’t say the words but didn’t need to. The ease of it. The certainty. It settles in her chest like a stone.

She moves through the house on autopilot. Sets her purse down. Washes her hands even though they aren’t dirty. Stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror a little longer than necessary, like she’s looking for something new in her own face.

You knew better, she thinks.

Hoodoo always warned about this. You don’t work love like it’s harmless. You don’t ask for devotion without understanding what kind of thing might answer. Love work bends will. It tightens. It roots itself deep.

She sinks onto the edge of the bed, fingers twisting together.

She hadn’t meant to trap him.

She just hadn’t wanted to lose him.

A candle memory flashes in her mind—low light, murmured words, her voice steady even as her hands shook. She remembers asking for him to stay, for his eyes to never wander, for his heart to know no rest without her.

She remembers meaning every word.

Her throat tightens.

Maybe he was always like this, she tells herself. Dangerous. Capable. Dark in ways she didn’t want to look at too close.

But love don’t create nothin’ from scratch.

It only sharpens what’s already there.

Annie presses her palms to her face, breathing slow, grounding like she was taught. If this is her doing, then she has to carry it. If she tied the knot, she can’t pretend not to feel the pull.

The thought curls in her stomach, equal parts fear and something colder.

If she hadn’t done the work… Would he still watch her like that? Would he still burn for her so completely?

She doesn’t have an answer.

Only the quiet house. Only the weight of knowing that some loves, once called, don’t ever loosen their grip.

Annie doesn’t realize she’s drifted.

One moment she’s sitting there, thoughts looping, chest tight—then suddenly the room snaps back into focus when fingers close around her jaw.

Firm.

Not cruel. Not gentle either.

Smoke tilts her face up until she’s forced to look at him.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

His thumb presses just beneath her cheekbone, grounding her whether she wants it or not. Annie’s breath catches. She hadn’t heard him come in. Hadn’t felt the floor shift beneath his steps. He’s close—too close—and when she meets his eyes, something in her finally breaks.

Because this time, she’s not seeing her husband the way she always has.

She’s seeing him clearly.

The way his gaze doesn’t wander. The way it pins her in place. Not angry. Not loud. Just focused. Like she is the only real thing in the room and everything else is decoration.

Her lip trembles.

Smoke notices instantly. His grip loosens, but his hand doesn’t leave her face. “Annie,” he says, quieter now. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She tries to answer.

Nothing comes out.

Her chest tightens until it hurts, and suddenly the words are too big, too tangled. Tears spill before she can stop them, her breath hitching sharp and ugly. She shakes her head like that might fix it.

“I—I didn’t mean—” Her voice cracks. She presses her face into his palm without thinking, like she’s seeking shelter. “I didn’t mean for it to go like this.”

Smoke stills.

“Go like what?” he asks.

That’s when it all comes pouring out.

Slow at first. Fragmented. Annie talks like she’s confessing through water—about the work, the candles, the prayers she whispered when she was scared of losing him. How she asked for his love to stay. How she didn’t think… didn’t understand… didn’t know it would change things.

Her words trip over each other, shame and fear woven together. She keeps waiting for him to pull away.

He doesn’t.

Smoke listens.

Doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t tense. His face stays calm, unreadable, but his hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck, thumb resting at her pulse like he’s counting every beat.

“I messed up,” she sobs finally. “I think I messed you up. I think this—this obsession, this way you look at me—it’s my fault.”

She forces herself to look at him, bracing for anger.

Instead, Smoke exhales—slow, almost amused.

“Annie,” he says gently, “why would I be mad?”

Her brows knit together. “Because I took somethin’ from you,” she whispers. “Your choice. Your free will. I—”

He leans in, forehead pressing to hers, cutting her off.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, “you ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I didn’t already know.”

Her breath stutters. “What?”

“I knew,” he repeats. “From the start.”

She pulls back just enough to stare at him. “Then why—why didn’t you stop me?”

A slow smile curves his mouth. Dark. Devoted. Unsettling.

“Because I wanted you to choose me,” he says. “Even if you had to pray me into it.”

Annie’s heart pounds violently.

“You think a candle made me like this?” Smoke continues softly. “You think a few words turned me into somethin’ I wasn’t already fightin’ to be?”

His hand tightens at her neck—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her he’s there. Always there.

“I been watchin’ you since the day I met you,” he admits. “Been wantin’ to keep you safe, close, untouched. You didn’t put that in me.”

He tilts her chin up again, eyes dark and unwavering. “You just gave me permission.”

Fear and something shamefully warm coil together in her chest. “This isn’t normal,” she whispers.

Smoke hums, brushing his thumb under her eye, wiping away a tear. “Normal don’t keep what’s precious,” he says. “Normal lets the world take things.”

His gaze hardens—not at her, but at the idea of anything else.

“I don’t share,” he continues quietly. “I don’t lose what’s mine. And I don’t regret lovin’ you the way I do.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, reverent, almost holy.

“So no,” he murmurs against her skin, “I ain’t mad.”

His arms close around her, strong and unyielding, pulling her into his chest.

“I’m grateful.”

Annie pulls back just enough to breathe.

Her hands are still fisted in Smoke’s shirt, knuckles white, like letting go might make the ground disappear beneath her. Her eyes are red, swollen, but clear now—too clear.

“There’s somethin’ else,” she says quietly.

Smoke feels it immediately. The shift. The way her voice steadies when fear sharpens into resolve. His thumb stills at her jaw.

“Say it,” he murmurs.

She swallows. Hard. “That boy,” she says. “The one in the ditch.”

The room seems to dim around them.

“I need to know,” Annie continues, forcing the words out even as her chest tightens. “If—if somethin’ like that ever happens again… if someone looks at me wrong, talks to me wrong—”

Her voice breaks. “Will you do it again?”

Smoke doesn’t answer right away.

For the first time all night, he looks away from her.

He steps back, slow, deliberate, like he’s choosing his next move carefully. He walks to the window, rests one hand against the glass, staring out into the dark yard. The quiet stretches, thick and unbearable.

Annie’s heart hammers.

This is it, she thinks. This is where he lies. Or explodes. Or tells her what she’s already afraid to know.

Finally, Smoke speaks.

“I think about you every day,” he says, voice low, almost distant. “About the ways this world could touch you without your permission.”

Annie’s breath catches.

“I think about accidents,” he continues calmly. “About men who don’t know when to stop talkin’. About hands that might reach where they ain’t invited.”

He turns back to her.

“And when I think about those things,” he says softly, “I also think about solutions.”

Her stomach drops.

“That ain’t an answer,” she whispers.

Smoke steps closer again, closing the space between them. He doesn’t touch her this time. He just looks at her—open, unflinching.

“I don’t go lookin’ for trouble,” he says. “I don’t wake up wantin’ blood on my hands.”

A pause.

“But if somethin’ threatens what’s mine?” His jaw tightens. “If someone makes you afraid? Makes you feel small?”

He leans in, his voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous. “I won’t hesitate.”

Annie shakes her head, tears slipping free again. “That scares me.”

Smoke nods once. “I know.”

That’s what terrifies her most. Not denial. Not excuses.

Understanding.

“But hear me,” he says gently, lifting her chin so she has to meet his eyes. “I ain’t gonna hurt nobody just ‘cause they exist. I ain’t reckless.”

His thumb presses lightly at her pulse. “Everything I do is measured. Thought through. Clean.”

Her breath stutters. “You’re talkin’ like you already decided.”

His gaze softens when he looks at her—softens in a way meant only for her. “I decided the day I married you,” he says. “The day I promised you nothin’ in this world would take you from me.”

Annie’s voice is barely a whisper now. “Even if I ask you not to?”

Smoke studies her for a long moment.

Then he cups her face with both hands, forehead resting against hers.

“If you tell me to stop,” he says quietly, “I’ll listen.”

Her heart lifts—just a little.

“But,” he continues, and there it is, “don’t ask me to stop lovin’ you the way I do.”

His arms wrap around her again, solid and unyielding, pulling her into his chest. Annie presses her face against him, shaking, torn between fear and the awful, aching comfort of being held like this.

Outside, the night remains still.

Inside, Annie understands the truth at last:

She didn’t create the darkness in Smoke. She named it. Loved it.