Queen 💛

Summary:

Georgia A&M is an historically black college located in the heart of Georgia. The long-standing university has been around since the desegregation of Black and White Americans, though their acceptance is limited to those of African-American Descent, but most importantly limited to only descendents of former slaves and share croppers.  

After almost seventy years of racism, hate crimes, bomb threats and terror on their school, Georgia A&M has risen through them all and cemented themselves as the number one University in all areas of education, sports, and the fine arts. They have produced the best musicians, artists, athletes, educators and politicians in spite of  all the trials and tribulations they have suffered for generations and generations despite the ever changing laws put in place to support the black community and its continuously growing academics and campus life. 

In modern day Georgia, the historically black university has acquired the funding to provide scholarships to incoming freshmen in need to aid in the success of their education and hopefully the future progression of their aspiring careers. The first two recipients of that scholarship?

Eden Sage and Sammie Moore.

The two students come from a long line of Alumni that have cemented their legacy into the university and left their mark on the world one step at a time. 

Eden Sage comes from a naturally gifted family that have all attended Georgia A&M to pursue careers, as doctors, lawyers, teachers and engineers. It was a no-brainer for her to commit to the school, though not for the reason her family thinks. Eden has always loved the sport of Tennis. Something about the feel of the racket in her hand felt natural to her, as if it was a second skin she couldn’t remove. Her family refuses to support and  to fund her path to college unless she focused on what they deem was acceptable. With promises of a full-ride athletic scholarship, Eden is determined to make a career out of her life-long passion. 

Sammie Moore, coined by the nickname ‘preacher boy’ by his family and friends, is ostracized from his home and family in Clarksdale, Mississippi for his love of Blues, Jazz, and RnB music and wanting to pursue a career in being a world renowned musician. Torn between loyalty to his father and his love of music, his full ride scholarship offers him the opportunity to decide his own destiny. Sammie just wants to live like it's the last time in a long time and hope to reach the success he;s looking for without compromising his morals. 

What happens when these legacy kids cross paths one day in class, and are paired together on a history project? Will sparks fly or is it just one of those fleeting college romances to make their struggle to stardom a little less lonely. 

COMING ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── SOON

Ribs bruised, prickling, aching, Jey stumbles to her. Gaze heavy, his voice is held captive by the ache in his torso, heartbreak bleeding through the gaps of his injured skeleton. He’s lost, struggling to fill his lungs with oxygen, breath hitching, trembling. A sheen covers his eyes as they search for her among the moving parts of the show.

Jey feels her in the form of a tender, mindful embrace. He sees her a beat later, staring at him, steady, bearing all the strength he doesn’t have. A sniffle, a look around, and he crumbles. In her arms, unable to bow into her, he hides his nose in her hair, inhales shakily. A paw splayed about his ribcage, his other arm holds her to him. She whispers his name, her hands caressing his spine as his weary being melts over her. 

“That’s it,” he rasps out, “Fifty one days… all I could do.” His voice is laced with exhaustion, physical from the match, emotional from the past half decade of storms separating him and his family, fighting through waters to rescue them, all to lose them to the currents again, and again. His lonely journeys from city to city, away from his loved ones, away from her. Even with a thousand miles keeping her from him, her voice could ease his longing, reassuring him, regathering his will, reminding him of his reasons, the worthiness of his dreams. Six hundred sixty eight days of tears cried alone, moments slipping through his fingers, memories he will never make, parties he will never attend, jokes he will never laugh at, for fifty one days of glory. Fifty one days he would barter away without a moment’s hesitation for a second chance at that forever lost happiness. “What a waste, baby. Was such a waste.” 

His jaw is taken by two soft hands, the pads of her thumbs against the hollows of his cheeks, subduing the tension etching his features in tiny circular motions. His clenched teeth separate, the diamonds coating them sparkling as his lips part. His eyes take time to reach hers, dreading what he might catch within them. Discontent, annoyance, pity. Instead, there’s care, love, pride. She watches him with an adoration he wishes to sink into, drape himself over, hide himself in. 

“Nothing you do is a waste.” She speaks from her heart, putting sound to the warmth in her orbs. He tilts his jaw further toward her palms. “You fought so hard, did the best you could. You see it. I do, too... I couldn’t be more proud.” He blinks fast, battling the sting of tears. She pushes herself to the very tips of her toes to plant a kiss to his lips. He chases her mouth for more, stopping only once the water lining his lashes subsides. Jey folds at the hip to sink his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing hard. She stands beside him, at the center of the hallway, an oasis in the desert, allowing him rest until he can shift the world back atop his shoulders. 

The hotel room is silent, the closest the pair can get to home. Jey would force the earth to spin on its axis if it meant the indulgence of his own bed, if it meant waking up next to her, surrounded by the four walls that knew him best. Nothing would feel better, nothing would heal him faster. Yet, she takes care of him as though this space was their own, bringing familiarity to the suite’s pristine, bland interior. The glass door fogs, steamy from the shower. On the other side, his lover lays out balm, soft patches to cover his bruised flesh, a set of shorts. All Jey’s made to do is stand as she applies the balm, covering the expanse of skin with gauze.

“There you go, papa, all done,” she murmurs, tying the drawstrings of his shorts into a bow. It hurt to tug them on, she had taken over at the very first noise of distress. His eyelids are droopy, deep browns pooling with fondness, gratefulness, his being consoled by the love she gives. It buzzes through his veins, and the pains haunting his body dull away. Speaking is impossible, words fail him, catch in his throat like hiccups, so he cups her chin using one large hand, guiding her eyes to his, slanting his lips over hers. He drops small pecks at first, then squeezes her jaw with a deeper kiss. She hums in his mouth, circling her arms around his torso as his unoccupied hand slides along the curve of her hip, squeezing. His affection travels off center, across her cheek, brushing her temple, the press of his lips rhythmic until it comes to a slow halt right back where he began. 

“Thank you, baby,” he finally whispers. “Y’really keepin’ me together.” 

The pair eat their midnight dinner, leave the dishes for room service, and settle on the balcony overlooking Phoenix. Jey sits in the plush, oversized chair. Her, in his lap. His need for quiet has passed, he’s rambling about vacation destinations, how he can start advancing rank in one of his video games, the restaurants he saw on his drive to the hotel earlier that day, toying lightly with her hands, his thumb twisting the gold band around her ring finger. Mellowed, placid, his senses recognize that he’s no longer fighting. There isn’t a need to tense his muscles and shield himself from an imminent blow or tune out an ear-splitting crowd. It’s him and his love. Solace and passion. Comfort and joy. Never will he have to earn it, for it belongs eternally to him.

All his, for now, forever.

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New York was the last place anybody wanted to be, especially Tirian and Terrance, knowing that Cristian and his posse were here and the possibility of Tirian having to testify in his upcoming trial. Although he made bail, he was still being charged and it was only a matter of time before the courts subpoenaed anyone associated with him to testify. Terrance knew continuing on to New York would be dangerous not only for him and his team, but it would be damaging to Tirian and the mental space she put herself in since the news broke out of Cristian posting bail but being placed on house arrest in that same state. While he wanted to cancel that stop entirely, he didn’t want to upset the fans who spent their hard earned money to come see him. Even though he couldn’t control Cristian, he knew the one thing he could and that was to make sure Tirian didn’t fall into a state of depression.

The Ritz Carlton Hotel had been completely shut down and rented out for not only him and the crew but all of his production team and their families, flying them out for the week stay to not only give his team a break, but to ensure that security would be on high alert. He spared no expenses for their safety, and even hired a trusted and private security team through a mutual friend that could  rotate schedules to make sure no one could get in or out without clearance. 

“Shit, I knew you were balling, but not like this.” Viktor joked as they stepped into the main lobby where they were greeted with the owner and a few of his staff.

Terrence with his arm thrown around Tirian’s neck looks back with a chuckle. “You guys are an extension of me, so only the best for those down with me.”

“Shit, if this is how you coming, then I'll forever be down.” Lance glances around the main lobby, taking in the high ceilings, glass chandeliers and paintings probably older than everyone in the building. This was nicer than what he was used to, but they were also getting used to having their expenses paid for. Cristian never provided that luxury and a fair check so it was new to him not having to worry about how he was getting from state to state or even where he would sleep. He couldn’t believe Taylor would give that all up after her own treatment with Cristian.

“Where there is loyalty there is gratitude.” 

“Alright, rooms are assigned,”. Zerina struts up quickly, flipping through the various keycards and passing them out, “The ballrooms have been temporarily set up as a rehearsal space and I even convinced the owner to house his staff in some of the rooms so it is only the same people in and out.”

“Do we really need all that?” Amari asks. 

“This is the first time Terrance, Cristian and Tirian have been in the same state in what five years?” Zerina looks at her and Tirian just nods. “These are just cautionary measures.”

“Oh, uhm one more thing.” Amari whispers nervously. “Taylor’s here. But-”

“But what?’ Terrance demands, while Taylor may be from the Bronx, she resided in California and really had no reason to be here right now. 

“She’s with Mekia and Cristian and they’ve been dissing Tirian over twitter.”

Tirian goes to pull out her phone but Zerina holds her hand out to stop her. “Don’t, I’ll handle it,” Her other hand had already began typing furiously on her phone, the ringing on speaker let her know she was calling someone. “You guys go and get settled. We have two days off and your first appearance and concert here Friday, I need you to rest.”

“Yes ma'am, big sis general.” Terrance guides Tirian towards the elevators, where the bellhops had been waiting with their luggage and complimentary champagne and robes, they were sure to use later. 

30 minutes later

“Let me eat baby,” he husks from between her legs as she sits on the edge of the bed. He knelt on the floor beneath her and rested his thighs over his shoulders. He was too worried about her own pleasure to care about anything else, even though they should be heading out soon to try and get to their destination on time. Tirian trembled beneath his skill tongue, having already moaned and clenched through three releases just from his mouth alone. They had made it to their room and hoped to get a nap before going out only for Terrance to coax her into a make out session she was happy to engage in. 

“We’re gonna be late.” She whines at the sensitivity to biting her lip to suppress a moan at him flicking his tongue between her folds. 

“Whe wnhin’t  mbe.” He grunts from his spot as he sucks her clit between his lips.

Tirian understood just enough that he wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied. She rests her hands on the back of his neck for stability, cuffing her fingers around the width of it briefly with a gentle squeeze before his hands grabs hers and interlocks their fingers together. He presses them down on the bed at her sides, and peeks up at her with a dark look and furrowed eyebrows as he keeps at his ministrations on her mound–her fourth orgasm now spilling on his tongue that flattened against her pussy..

“You keep doing that and we’ll never leave.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

What had meant to only be a three hour drive turned into almost five hours due to New York traffic and a pile-up accident on Astoria Boulevard. Though once they made it through busy streets it had been smooth sailing. The tall buildings and skyscrapers had been changed out for lush greenery and larger than life estates and manors. 

Despite Zerina suggesting a driver or flying to a closer airport, Terrane enjoyed the exclusive privacy of driving himself and Tirian to their destination. His hand cuffed her thigh with his thumb rubbing in circles on the inner side of it. Her other leg propped up as she wrote in her mom’s journal, probably another song she had been writing for no one at all, a few glances he could see the title Honey across the top and instantly knew it was a love song.

“How’s your mental baby?” Terrance has to ask, after the release of his diss track and the recent tweets from Taylor that she wasn’t supposed to look at–she had been quiet the majority of the ride.

She shrugs, still writing down lyrics while humming softly to herself. “It is what it is, right?” 

Terrance looks at her as he stops at a stop sign that leads to a private road. It was like that but he didn’t want her to feel like that. He made a left turn and soon the large manor came into view with only two cars parked by the three door garage.

“That’s not what I asked.” 

Tirian frowns, but gives in. “It’s frustrating.” She mumbles, “I don’t mess with nobody, all I do is work, dance, and love you. Why can’t I do that without any problems?” 

Terrance has to contain the warm excitement he felt when she mentioned those last two words.  She was feeling upset, and in her eyes probably defeated. So once he parked the car neck to the others, he quickly got out and rushed to her side. The door swings open, and he presses himself between her legs before she can get out.  He grabs her face in his hands and wipes the stray tears threatening to spill from the corners. “No matter what you do, good or bad, there will always be haters.”

A deep exhale leaves her lips, but she doesn’t stop looking at him. “When will they stop?” She whispers questioningly, referring to Cristian and his posse of people that have managed to get her new phone number to harass her, that she had to change it yet again, but knowing Taylor probably gave it to them, she didn’t give it to her once she realized she wasn’t a friend

“They won’t until they see you break, but as long as I’m by your side., they will never see you fall.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I will never let you fall and if you do I will fail as your protector.”

“You could never fail Terrance.” She says softly with her arms wrapping around his torso. She tilts her head up with a pucker of her lips. “If anything you're my protector, my bodyguard.”

He couldn’t help but smile, and kiss her puckered lips repeatedly, almost deepening the kiss until a voice rings out from the front porch of the manor. 

“Terrance! Get off a ha and get in the damn house!.” 

He laughs deeply as Tirian hides her face in his chest with her own. Though the sweet moment was ruined, she couldn’t help but feel better knowing he wasn’t going anywhere, not like she was gonna let him go anywhere. “Yes Ma’am!” He shouts back then looks down at her. “Let’s go inside before she beats my ass.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

They hadn’t planned on staying the night, but just in case they had both brought a suitcase of clothes and essentials should they need them. Terrance grabbed the bags from the trunk as she grabbed her purse from the backseat. The two of them walked side by side up the steps until they were greeted with two familiar faces. The older woman with her skin a honeyed color and sharp facial features was the first to greet them with a wide smile, her dark colored hair had been pulled up into a messy bun. Her arms reached out and pulled Tirian into a hug as an older man, a deep brown skin town, who stood a few inches taller than Terrance, pulled him into a brotherly greeting of slapping hands and bumping shoulders. 

“Oh it’s so good to see you!” She exclaims. “How are you?”

Tirian returns the hug, loving the warmth and comfort of her embrace and the smooth sound of her southern Texas accent that reminded her of her own mother., and honestly missing it more than she thought she would. “I could be better, but like you said one day at a time”

“I did, but that doesn’t mean I can't check on my first baby.” She grabs her hand. “Jay, show Terrance the guest room, me and my baby got some catching up to do.” 

Jay couldn’t help but shake his head with that laugh of his that only few people knew what it really sounded like. He slaps a hand on Terrance’s back and grabs one of the suitcases despite his protests. “Even at home wifey is in charge.” He laughed again though it was still genuine. “Guest room upstairs,” He nodded in the direction he was walking. Terrance looks back at Tirian, both having a silent conversation with their eyes to make sure she was okay. 

‘They won’t be long, lunch will be starting soon.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tirian couldn’t help but gawk at the sheer size of their home, the mix of southern Texas style woods, and colors and New York aesthetics of artwork blended perfectly and showcased the couple’s style. Photos of them and their families adorned the walls along with a few of their platinum and gold records, what stood out the most was the life sized portrait of their wedding portrait sitting above the living room fireplace.

“I had to tell Jay to have you guys over when I realized you got here a few days early. “She explains while leading them to the kitchen, where a few glasses of southern style sweet tea sat on a dining table. 

“plans kind of got changed.” Tirian trails off, averting her eyes to the droplets of condensation on her glass that was handed to her.

“ How are you holding up?” Bey sits in one of the chairs, motioning for her to sit next to her, which Tirian quickly did, already comfortable in the presence of her mentor.

“We’re coming up on the anniversary of my mom’s death, so I'm feeling more down about that, than everything that's been said about me.” 

“Grief is a thief of time, I told you  that all the time on tour, the worse you can do is let it consume you.”

Tiran nods, and crosses her arms. Her lip pulled between her teeth. “It’s just frustrating that people won’t leave me alone–and Cristian knows this is always a rough time for me.”

“A narcissist doesn’t care. You give him power by letting him see you upset.” Bey rests her hand on her knee. “You think I got where I am because I let a few people get to me?” She tilts her head at her. Everyone knew Beyonce and Jay had their fair share of haters, racism, and even conspiracy theories thrown at them, but they never let it get to them. “The best revenge is yo paper, and once you understand that.” Bey blows like it was all too familiar. “You will be unstoppable. “

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Terrance and Jay dropped the bags into one of the many guest rooms on the second floor. He was appreciative of the older man offering his home to him, instead of them getting a hotel nearby, and knew eventually they would be talking business.

“You’ve been handling yourself  in the media like I taught you, you slipped but you bounced back” Jay explains from the doorway.

“Kinda hard when niggas like to test your patience.”

“And they will continue to do so the more you engage.” It almost felt like he was being scolded by his father, only it was his long-time mentor.

“What would you do?” 

Jay stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans against the frame. “Sit back, watch, and let them make a fool of themselves, which they will do.” It came off so nonchalant, but Terrance knew he was right. “I taught you several ways to get your revenge and so far you only did one and that was shutting up.”

“Seems like music isn’t working either.” Terrance argues. 

“You know I roll with them goons, in case you start acting familiar.” He quotes and walks away. “ Let’s head down, The ladies are waiting."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Aah, I’m so excited!” Bey squeals from the home studio on one of the many leather couches. Lunch had been long over, and from the multiple conversations held at the table from relationship advice, to wanting to write music, Tirian had expressed her wants to record her first single. Despite not having sung since the death of her mother and grandmother, it would be a disservice if she didn’t pursue her second passion in honor of her mother. So now here they were recording her first ever single in hopes of dropping it tonight.

Tirian sat next to Jay at the soundboard, as he mixed together the different sounds of Bey’s fingers snapping and the soft notes of a keyboard. She had already recorded her parts of the song, and now they were placing the on the background vocals Bey offered to do for her. 

“Catchy song, definitely gonna be a hit.” Jay explains, while toying with some of the sounds to amplify Tirian’s voice. 

“See this on the charts for sure.”  Bey leans forward, “ Move that snapping to the beginning then slowly add in the piano beat. I like the build up of it.”

“I still think it’s missing something.” Tirian frowns after the bass drops towards the middle. 

Terrance looks up from his phone beside Bey, “you need an outro or maybe an intro in the middle somewhere.” The song was perfect, and her voice had soothed a racing anxiety in him the moment he got a few concerning texts from his mother and cousin about his sister Layla. He couldn’t do much as his mom made him promise he wouldn’t come down until she called. Though the one thing he could do was help his girl with her music as it provided a nice distraction. 

Her eyes widen with a smile, and she gets up. Terrance watches curiously as she walks over to him, she grabs his hand. “Come in the booth with me?” 

“In front of them baby?  I knew you was frea-”

“Ewugh- No!” she kicks his knee, making him wince with a laugh. “I have and idea.” Jay and Bey laugh as well at the couple's playful banter. 

“Alright, alright.” He gets up and lets her drag him into the recording booth, though it was small, he still managed to comfortably stand behind her as she placed the headphones over his ears and placed her own on with just one ear covered. He drapes his arms over her shoulders, and looks down at her with a questioning look. 

“Just ad-lib while I do some runs and things in the background?

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” She grins and gives the people on the other side a thumbs up and the beat begins to play in their ends and right on cue she begins her little intro.

Bey moves to sit next to Jay who was watching them with an adoring smile. Not looking at his wife next to him, he speaks. “They remind me of us when we first recorded together.” The couple had been smiling and looking at each other lovingly, sneaking quick kisses when they thought the couple on the other side weren’t looking. They moved as if they had been together for years, though it had only been months.

“Yeah?” She wasn’t physically smiling but her voice was. “Controversy and all.”

“How long before they get married.” Jay tilts his head back at her with an eyebrow arched.

“Baby, they’re eloping. I see no wedding until all this dies down.”  Bey shakes her head, knowing how Tirian’s life has been since the passing of her mother and grandmother, she knew it would be far-fetched that she would plan a wedding knowing they couldn’t be there,  but eloping wasn’t completely off the table. “Are you performing at his concert?”

“If we can get this song he wants me on, done in time” Jay shrugs. “We’ll see.”

“You know they’re officially our kids now.” Bey jokes, though she was serious, she had a soft spot for the young couple and knew her and Jay would be in their lives as long as they would have them.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

106 & PARK

AJ: Welcome to 106 & Park, we're your hosts AJ & Free and before we get started we have and exclusive on New Artist gracing the RnB Scene with a new song.

Free: While some of you may know her as that girl dancing or tour, or regrettably as someone involved in a diss battle. We know her as Little Tiffany. Who has been in this industry since the age of 10 years. old. Kinda can't call her little Tiffany no more. *laughs*

Aj: She's grown now Free. But dropping her new single Honey!, give it up for Tiri!

Ooh, ooh, honey got me hooked on you I like that Oh, oh Come on, TB La da da da da da da da Come on Yeah, da da da La da da da da da da da, la da da da da

La da da da da da da da, da da da da da La da da da da da da da

I like that La da da da da, da da da da Let's go

[Verse 1: Tiri x Stone] Oh honey, you can have me when you want me (Ooh) If you simply ask me to be there Uh-huh And you're the only one who makes me come runnin' 'Cause what you got is far beyond compare, oh

[Pre-Chorus: Tiri x Stone] And it's just like honey (Yeah) When your love comes over me (When your love comes over me) That's right Oh baby, I've got a dependency Always strung out for another taste of your honey It's like honey when it washes over me You know sugar never ever was so sweet And I'm dyin' for ya, cryin' for ya, I adore ya (Cryin', mmh) One hit of your love addicted me (Yeah) Now I'm strung out on you, darlin', don't you see? (Every night) Every night and day I can hardly wait for another taste of honey (No, honey) Honey, I can't describe How good it feels inside (Oh, honey) Honey, I can't describe How good it feels inside

[Verse 2: Tiri & Stone] Yeah, yeah, oh, I can't be elusive with you, honey I like that 'Cause it's blatant that I'm feelin' you Yeah And it's too hard for me to leave abruptly 'Cause you're the only thing I wanna do Uh-huh And it's just like honey When your love comes over me (When your love comes over me) Oh baby, I've got a dependency (So dependent to ya, honey) Always strung out for another taste of your honey (Honey)

It's like honey when it washes over me You know sugar never ever was so sweet (Oh) And I'm dyin' for ya, cryin' for ya, I adore ya (I need you bad) One hit of your love addicted me (Ooh, your love addicted me) Now I'm strung out on you, darlin', don't you see? (I can't wait for another) Every night and day I can hardly wait for another taste of honey

[Break: Tiri & Stone] (Baby, I can hardly wait) Honey I can't describe Harlem world, we won't stop And Tirian, you're on fire How good it feels inside (Gotta have another taste) Harlem world, we won't stop So Tirian take us higher Honey I can't describe (I gotta have you now, come on baby) Harlem world, we won't stop (I need your honey right now) How good it feels inside And Tirian you're on fire Harlem world, we won't stop So Tirian, take us higher (Come sweeten me with your honey)

[Stone] Breakdown Whoa, whoa (Yeah), every little thing you do Now what we gonna do right here Is we gonna smooth it out, come on Ooh, ooh, honey, got me hooked on you (TB, and she won't stop)

Honey, it's like It's like honey when it washes over me You know sugar never ever was so sweet (Oh, sugar, you know) And I'm dyin' for ya, cryin' for ya, I adore ya (Oh, I need your love right now, baby) One hit of your love addicted me (One) Now I'm strung out on you, darlin', don't you see? Every night and day I can hardly wait for another taste of honey (I need a taste of honey) It's like honey when it rushes over me (Honey) You know sugar never ever was so sweet And I'm dyin' for ya, cryin' for ya, I adore ya (Honey, I) One hit of your love addicted me (Honey) Now I'm strung out on you, darling, don't you see? Every night and day (Oh honey, I) I can hardly wait for another taste of honey (Honey, I) It's like honey when it rushes over me (Honey) You know sugar never ever was so sweet And I'm dyin' for ya, cryin' for ya, I adore ya (Honey) One hit of your love addicted me (Honey) Now I'm strung out on you, darling, don't you see? Every night and day (Honey) I can hardly wait for another taste of honey Honey, I can't describe (Honey) How good it feels inside

Song Credit:

Chapter 17: Footsteps In The Dark

July 11th 2002 (Thursday)

Jey knocked on the window like he owned the air I breathed. He had the nerve to stand there like this was normal behavior. And when I didn’t acknowledge his presence, he peered into my window.

“Nyeya, let the damn window down.”

I ignored his ass as I picked at my nails like he wasn’t even standing there. I knew it was making him hot. And I didn’t care.

But then I noticed the time on the dash. Time was ticking. And I needed a new outfit, fresh nails, maybe a wax if I could squeeze that in for my date tonight. I had shit to do that didn’t include dealing with someone’s baby daddy.

He wasn’t leaving until I acknowledge him though. I sighed and cracked the window just a smidge—enough for my voice, not his presence.

“This the second time you done showed up to my house unannounced. The next time I’m calling the cops on your ass.”

Jey sucked his teeth like I was the one violating boundaries. Like I was the problem. He was trip.

“Girl, whatever. You getting out or what? Unlock the door so I can get in.”

I turned my head slowly, dragging my shades down just enough to meet his gaze.

“Jey, I don’t think your baby mama would appreciate you getting into other women’s cars and showing up at their houses.”

He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands.

“How the hell you know about that?”

I chuckled, low and mean. Kiyah was the mouth of the south. Everybody and they people probably knew by now especially if she told her mama.

“Word gets around.”

He exhaled like the truth hurt worse than the rumors.

“I need to holla at you. Can you at least hear me out?”

His tone had shifted. It was much softer. He looked tired, like he hadn’t been sleeping. I glanced at the clock again. It was 11:30.

“You got thirty minutes of my time and that’s it, uce. I got shit to do.”

I popped the locks and didn’t say another word. Jey circled the front of the car like he’d been granted access to heaven itself. He slid in, the scent of Hugo Boss riding in with him. The scent was new. I tried not to wonder about it though even if it hung in the air.

He looked over at me like he was trying to read what kind of heart I had today.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction. I kept my eyes forward, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel like a countdown was already ticking because it truly was.

“What you need to say to me?”

---

Jey rubbed his hands together like he was trying to generate an answer. The silence between us stretched, thick with whatever he was holding back. I waited, watching him fumble with whatever thoughts he couldn’t seem to say out loud. Finally, he spoke—quiet but clear.

“I ain’t fit to be no father right now. Too much shit going on. From day to day, I don’t know if it’s gon’ be my last. I… I was careful. I don’t know how that shit happened.”

His voice cracked just enough for me to look at him. He was being honest and I hadn’t expected that from him.

His left leg bounced like it had a rhythm of its own.

“Accidents happen,” I said carefully, not knowing what else to offer. “What’s done is done, right?”

He finally looked at me, eyes shadowed by something deeper than regret. “Jim told me to make her take another test in front of me. What you think?”

I blinked, not expecting the question. Of all the things he could’ve said, that wasn’t on my list. It took me a moment to find my voice again.

“Um… I don’t— I mean, if you feel like that needs to happen to be sure, then do it. It shouldn’t be no problem. Y’all can go to Planned Parenthood and let them test her so you know it’s real.”

He nodded, slow and distracted, still staring out the windshield like it held the answer he was searching for. Something was off. I could feel it. He wasn’t telling me everything.

“Why ask me?” I asked softly.

He turned toward me, his eyes meeting mine with a strange kind of vulnerability. “I trust your opinion. You don’t know her, so you neutral. You gon’ tell me the truth whether I wanna hear it or not.”

That made me smirk. At least he knew who he was talking to. But there was still something beneath the surface, something I couldn’t quite reach.

Kiyah’s voice echoed in my head. Her suspicions, her words. I watched him closely.

“You think she lying?”

I saw it then—the stiffening in his shoulders, the flicker in his eyes. That was it. That was the thing he hadn’t said out loud yet.

“I don’t make mistakes,” he muttered. “I don’t miss nothing. So how this happen?”

His voice was tight, not angry exactly, but tense with frustration and disbelief. Like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

I leaned back against the seat, keeping my voice calm. “That's not important right now. Not until you find out if she’s actually pregnant. That’s what matters first. If she is, then y’all can figure out the how. Don’t beat yourself up over something like this. Things happen. Even when you’re careful.”

He nodded, quiet again. Then, without warning, he reached across the console and grabbed my hand. I looked down at it, then at him. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back gently.

“Thank you,” he said, voice soft.

And just like that, he let go, opened the door, and stepped out. He put up no fight. Just left.

I sat there for a moment, stunned. Jey never left that easily. I couldn’t help but feel a twist in my chest as I watched him walk back to his car. Something about the way he carried himself told me he was unraveling. And I hated that I still cared.

He pulled out of the driveway without a look back, giving me room to back out and close the garage behind me. As I headed to the mall, I tried to push the whole thing to the back of my mind. I had other things to focus on.

His problems were not mine. And I wouldn’t make them mine… if I could help it.

---

The mall was crowded, but I floated through it like I had a mission. And I did. I went from store to store, picking up everything I thought I might need—just in case. A cute two-piece that hugged me right. A yellow sundress that was soft and flowy. And a sky gray mini dress with an open back that screamed trouble.

I didn’t know where Damian planned to take me, but I wanted to be ready for anything.

After shopping, I slid into the nail salon and got my toes and nails done. Square shape with a white polish. It was simple but cute. They even squeezed me in for a wax, which was overdue. I walked out of that place feeling like a whole new woman.

It was creeping toward 4 o’clock when I got home. I ran a bath and eased into the water, putting Kiyah on speaker while I soaked. She was talking about Marcy doing too much and stepping over boundaries again. I frowned as she talked. I knew she loved Jacob, but I still couldn’t believe she was dealing with all that to begin with.

While she talked, my mind drifted—first to Jey, then to Tutor, and then to the idea of them having a baby. What kind of baby mama would Tutor be? The thought made my stomach tight, and I tried to shake it off. It really didn’t concern me.

But deep down, I wondered. Could I really date a man with a child? Would I be able to handle that dynamic?

I hung up with Kiyah and got out the tub, patting myself dry. I wanted to keep it simple, but something in me whispered to do it big.

I beat my face just enough to bring attention to my eyes, letting the softness of my lashes and the shape of my lips do the rest. I straightened my hair and clipped it up, leaving a few delicate strands to frame my face just right. When I looked in the mirror, I smiled to myself.

“You look good, baby,” I whispered.

I slipped into the gray mini dress and stepped into a pair of black strappy heels. Just in case, I packed some flats in my purse. My skin gleamed under the shimmer of body oil, and the Cashmere Mist I sprayed on settled over me like a second skin.

For my lips, clear gloss. Jewelry included diamond studs, a bracelet on one wrist, and a anklet on one leg. Enough to make a statement without being gaudy.

I felt grown and sexy even if I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect from Damian. I liked his energy, his calm confidence. It was refreshing. We’d only shared a moment together back in the day. Nothing came from it because there came Jey.

But now? I was free. And Damian was a possibility.

I heard the sound of a car pulling up and peeked through the curtain. My brows lifted. A sleek black Aston Martin Vanquish. Damian had money, money. I’m sure they all did because they switched cars like clothes.

I grabbed my bag, locked up the house, and stepped outside, letting my hips sway just a little. Damian was already standing at the passenger door waiting. His jeans fit him nicely. The Versace shirt hugged his chest. With his hair down, he looked real good.

As I got close, I noticed the way his eyes dragged over me. There was hunger in the way he looked at me—like he’d been waiting for this, for me. He pulled me into a hug, hands resting low on my back. I felt it—warmth, a spark, something soft and dangerous all at once.

“You look good, mami,” he said, voice low as he pulled back.

I gave him a sly smile, letting my eyes linger on his lips before I slid into the passenger seat. The inside of the car was clean and smelled like his cologne mixed with that classic Black Ice. The kind of smell that wrapped around you.

I got comfortable, buckled in. Damian glanced over, then pulled off smooth, one hand on the wheel.

---

In the car, Damian and I talked over the gentle rhythm of Carlos Santana’s Supernatural album, the melodies dancing between us like sunlight on water. We started off light—old memories, music, the last time he’d seen his abuela. The kind of things that made it feel like maybe we were just two friends catching up. But that wasn’t the truth anymore.

When the music shifted to something low and slow, my thoughts followed. I stared out the window for a second before looking back at him.

“You truly ready to cross that line with me?”

My voice came out quieter than I intended. But I meant it.

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept driving with that furrowed look on his face like he was trying to solve something. Finally, he sighed and glanced over.

“I’ve thought about it, Nye. About the consequences... if we really go there. And I won’t lie, it worries me.”

His words hit me in the chest. I blinked, trying not to let my face fall—but it did. What was that supposed to mean? That this was just for fun? That we shouldn’t even be trying?

“But I’m not letting that stop me,” Damian added, almost like he heard my thoughts. “I’ve wanted you, always. You know that. And now that I got the chance... I’m taking it.”

That’s when he let go of the wheel just long enough to grab my hand. His palm was warm, steady. It made something in me loosen.

He looked at me again, this time a little softer. “You willing to cross that line with me?”

I smiled before I could stop myself. The thought of Jey floated up for a second, but I pushed it back down where it belonged. That part of my life was over. Or at least I told myself that.

“Yea,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I’m taking that chance with you.”

He didn’t say anything after that—just held my hand tighter.

And even though I meant every word... a quiet part of me wondered if I was setting Damian up for something he didn’t see coming.

---

San Juan’s had a vibe to it. It had dim lighting, red leather booths tucked in corners, candles flickering on each table, and the soft hum of live music flowing through the air like silk. The place was intimate without trying too hard. It smelled like saffron and grilled citrus, like the kitchen was just as seductive as the music.

Damian guided me inside, his hand resting gently on the small of my back as if he’d been there a thousand times. I liked how natural he made things feel. How his presence didn’t ask for attention but still commanded it.

We were led to a corner booth with plush seating and a clear view of the stage where a woman in a red dress crooned into the mic.

Damian ordered a dish with grilled shrimp and fried plantains for me, along with a mango mojito. For himself, he got ropa vieja and a dark rum neat. I couldn’t lie—the way he spoke Spanish so effortlessly to the waiter did something to me. It wasn’t just the language—it was the confidence behind it. The ease. Like he was grown in ways I hadn’t known before.

“First date and you already ordering for me?” I teased, propping my chin on my hand as I smiled across the table.

He smirked, sipping his drink before answering. “You trust me to feed you, no?”

“I didn’t say all that,” I replied, laughing. “But you lucky I like shrimp.”

“You’ll like more than that before the night’s over,” he murmured, eyes warm but full of intention. That stare again—the one that made me sit a little straighter and shift in my seat just to breathe.

The food came out quicker than I expected, and it was good. Real good. We talked while we ate—about little things like him growing up in Puerto Rico, my classes at school, old summer stories that had us both grinning between bites.

I liked that he wasn’t trying too hard. He wasn’t selling himself like most dudes did on a first date. He was just being himself.

After we finished, Damian leaned back and studied me like he had more to say but didn’t want to scare me off. Then he nodded toward the small dance floor in the center of the lounge where couples were swaying slowly to the live band.

“You dance, mami?”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Do I look like I don’t?”

He stood and offered his hand. “Ven aquí, preciosa.” [come here, beautiful]

The way the word preciosa slipped from his lips made my skin feel like it was glowing. I took his hand, letting him pull me to the floor. The band had shifted to a slow groove, something with bass and brass, something we could move close to.

He placed his hands gently on my waist as I wrapped mine around his neck. Our bodies fell into rhythm like they had done this before. I felt every breath he took against me. He didn’t rush. He let the music guide us. Let the tension build.

“You know I still remember the night we had back at my place,” he whispered into my ear.

I smiled against his neck. “That was years ago, Damian.”

“And I still think about it,” he said.

I looked up at him then, and maybe it was the wine or the rhythm or just how good it felt to be seen—but I didn’t look away. Damian leaned in slowly, giving me the chance to stop it if I wanted to.

I didn’t.

Our lips met soft at first, then deepened—just enough to make my knees unsteady. He kissed like he meant it. Like he’d waited. And maybe he had.

When we pulled apart, I caught my breath, my fingers still resting against the back of his neck.

“Well,” I whispered, voice a little shaky. “Guess this is a real date after all.”

He smiled, leaning his forehead against mine. “Realest one I’ve had in a long time.”

And just like that, something between us shifted. Quietly, but undeniably.

---

The ride home from the lounge was soaked in tension—quiet, restless, charged. Damian had one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally grazing my thigh, and each brush sent a slow fire curling up my spine.

I wanted him. Bad. And I could feel it radiating off him too. There was no need for words.

When we pulled up to the house, I didn’t hesitate. I told him to pull into the driveway and come inside. He’d been inside before, but tonight we would finish what he started.

Damian helped me out of the car, his hand lingering on my waist a little longer than necessary. As soon as the door shut behind us, I turned to him and kissed him like I had been waiting my whole life to. All lips and hunger. It shocked even me how urgent it felt.

“Mami, let’s lock the door first,” he murmured between kisses, his voice hoarse and breathless.

I groaned in protest but nodded. He was right—especially with the way Jey had already popped up unannounced earlier. The last thing I needed was a repeat of that. I watched as Damian locked the door, and the second he turned back around, I was on him again.

He picked me up effortlessly, our mouths crashing together once more as he carried me down the hall toward my bedroom. I felt his lips on my neck, his breath hot and unsteady, and I couldn’t stop the moans that escaped me. It was like something had unlatched inside me, something wild.

In my room, he laid me down gently on the bed and knelt at the edge, unstrapping my heels with care. I sat up on my elbows, watching him, his dark eyes moving over me like I was a piece of art. The hunger in his gaze made my skin warm.

I slid one of my bare feet up the center of his chest, teasing. “You should undress me now, papi,” I said, my voice low and teasing.

That was all it took. Damian growled under his breath and pulled me by the leg toward him, making me giggle. Then everything became a blur of clothing hitting the floor—mine and his. His mouth was on me, worshipping me. My body hummed beneath every kiss, every touch.

I was seconds from losing myself in him.

“I can’t wait,” I whispered, clutching the back of his neck. “Please.”

He smiled against my skin, just about to give me what I craved—and then his phone rang. We both froze. Then it stopped. But before either of us could exhale, it started ringing again.

“Don’t answer it,” I begged, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer. “They can wait. Please.”

He hovered there, torn, his lips brushing mine.

“Amor, I’m sorry. Shit. I gotta answer this.”

I almost cried. He was only centimeters away from changing my life. I watched in silent agony as he climbed off the bed, looking around for his jeans. The phone rang for a third time as he snatched them from the floor and answered.

“What? What happened?”

That was all I needed to hear before I sat up and looked at him.

“Where they take him?” Damian asked. “Alright, alright—I’m on my way.”

He hung up quickly, barely finishing putting on his jeans. His whole face changed. He looked panicked, on the verge of breaking.

“Baby, what happened?” I asked, already sitting up, my voice trembling.

Damian turned to me, his mouth opening—but nothing came out. He slumped down onto the bed beside me, and I pulled him into my arms without hesitation.

“Baby, tell me, please. Who was that?”

His chest was rising and falling like he couldn’t breathe. “Solo,” he finally said. “Sami, Jimmy, and him were all at the white house on Bend. They got pulled up on. A shootout happened. Sami got shot. He’s in surgery. They don’t know anything yet.”

My stomach dropped.

Sami? I couldn’t process it. Damian’s chest was heaving like he couldn’t either. I couldn’t fall apart now because he needed me.

“What hospital?” I asked.

He named it—the same one I’d been taken to when it happened to me. My throat tightened at the memory, but I pushed through it.

“I’m going too,” I told him firmly.

Damian shook his head. “Nye, you don’t have to—”

“I’m not letting you drive like this,” I said, cutting him off. “And Sami is my friend too. So, get dressed so we can go, papi.”

There was no fight left in him. He just nodded, eyes glazed over and started getting dressed along with me.

I threw on a shirt and some jeans, slipped into my sneakers, and grabbed my purse and phone along with my charger. If we had to pull an all-nighter, I was going to be ready. I turned the lights off and locked the door behind us.

Damian didn’t say a word when I held my hand out for his keys. He just gave them to me. As I slid into the driver’s seat of his car, all I could think about was Natasha. This was her worst fear come to life.

And even though I was scared out of my mind, I knew I had to hold it together. Because if not me, then who?

---

The ride to the hospital was mostly quiet. Damian sat beside me, head leaned against the window, with his jaw clenched. He’d taken a few more calls since we pulled off, each one confirming that word was spreading fast. Sami was in surgery. That was all we knew. That, and nobody was okay.

By the time we made it to the hospital, Damian had gathered himself just enough to walk upright. But I still felt the weight dragging behind every step he took. I parked, turned off the ignition, and without saying a word, Damian reached for my hand.

We walked in together like that. Me and him. Joined palms and heavy hearts. The visitor’s desk gave us directions to the surgical waiting area. The hallway felt like it went on forever. Sterile walls. Bright lights. That cold hospital quiet I knew too well. I couldn’t allow myself to visit the past though. I walked out of here and I hoped Sami did as well.

When we got to the waiting room, it was already full. Every Prada Boi had shown up. Jimmy and Nataya were there, Jimmy pacing with his arms folded. Bronson and his wife sat pressed together in the corner. Kiyah had her arms wrapped around Natasha, and Solo sat hunched forward like the walls were closing in. Tonga. Tama. Jacob. A few others were there as well.

Then my eyes landed on Jey who was seated next to Tutor.

I looked away fast. But not fast enough to miss the way heads turned—especially his. His brown eyes looked me over and then Damian. We were still holding hands. My face went hot.

How were we supposed to explain this? Damian paid no attention to what was happening. He simply asked what was going on instead.

Natasha’s quiet voice called my name. I slipped out of Damian’s grasp and made my way over. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t care who was watching. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.

“I’m so sorry you going through this. I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered.

She cried harder in my arms, and I just held her. Then I moved down the line, hugging Taya, then Kiyah, then Bronson’s wife before coming back to Natasha’s side. Damian took the empty seat beside me like nothing had just happened. Like Jey’s eyes weren’t cutting holes through us as Solo started explaining what happened.

He said they were just leaving the white house on Bend when a black Suburban pulled up. Lights off. No warning. Just opened fire. Rounds flying. Pure chaos. They tried to shoot back, but the car was too deep. They hadn’t even realized Sami was hit until after the Suburban sped off.

Solo looked haunted. I would check on him later. In a way, he had predicted this would happen.

Jimmy was pacing now, fists clenched.

“We gon’ get they ass,” he said through his teeth. “You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.”

Everyone in the room nodded including Damian. I didn’t agree because deep down I knew—them getting back at whoever was only going to make things worse. It seemed like worse had already arrived though.

I held Natasha tighter. She wasn’t saying much, but her tears were steady. I prayed, quietly, that Sami would pull through. And that she wouldn’t have to experience grief the way I had.

The room stayed mostly quiet after that. Conversations stayed low. People came and went to take calls. Damian leaned over and asked if I wanted something from the vending machine. I said no, but I noticed Jey watching us.

He couldn’t even pretend to care about the pregnant woman wrapped up in a blanket next to him. Tutor looked different than usual. Her makeup was gone. She look tired and stressed. That didn’t keep her hazel eyes from darting around the room like she was waiting for something to pop off—or like she was uncomfortable amongst us.

I turned my attention back to the girls. Jey and his lady wasn’t my business. Soon, a doctor walked in, and silence fell over the room like a sheet.

He scanned us all before asking, “Who’s next of kin?”

“That’s his wife,” Jey said, pointing to Natasha.

Natasha stood, wiping her face. She walked toward the doctor, standing tall.

“You can tell all of us,” she said. “We’re his family.”

The doctor gave a tight nod before speaking.

“Sami was shot twice. Once in the leg—missed a major artery. The other in the abdomen. We were able to stop the bleeding and he’s in stable condition now.”

The whole room exhaled loudly. Sami was going to be fine. Natasha smiled through tears. The kind of smile that only shows up when you’ve been holding your breath too long. The doctor said a nurse would come get her soon once Sami was moved to recovery.

Me, Kiyah, and Taya all rushed to hug her at once. Natasha had been so strong tonight, but I knew her strength was running thin. We’d be her strength now. We had to be.

---

Natasha was called back just a few moments later. She hugged all of us again before she left, promising to check on Sami and come back out to update us once he was settled. The door shut quietly behind her, but the tension in the room didn’t.

Then Solo disappeared.

I didn’t even realize it at first. One second he was there, sitting quietly beside Tonga, and the next he was gone. I didn’t panic though. I knew Solo. When he needed to breathe, he did. And he didn’t explain himself to nobody.

My phone buzzed a few seconds later. A message from him.

come find me

I was sitting in Kiyah’s lap at the time. She had her arms wrapped around my waist, resting her chin on my back like we were twelve again at a sleepover. I leaned back and whispered in her ear that I was going to the bathroom.

She nodded, releasing her hold on me. I glanced around the room as I stood up. Jey was leaning back with his eyes closed, damn near knocked out with Tutor curled up on him like a blanket. The others were in hushed conversation or lost in their phones. Nobody noticed me slip out.

The hallway was cold and empty. I kept my steps soft, checking over my shoulder just in case. And then I heard it—a low whistle, just barely above a hum. Solo was tucked away in another waiting room at the end of the hall. This one was smaller.

I stepped in. He looked up.

“You alright, boo?” I asked gently, sitting beside him.

He nodded, but I could see it in his face—he wasn’t. Not really. His eyes were red, his shoulders drawn tight like he’d been holding his breath since the shots rang out. This was the second shootout in just a few months. And this time, someone didn’t walk away unharmed.

I reached over and grabbed his hand, rubbing soft circles into his skin.

“This shit gotta stop, man,” he muttered, voice low. “Damn.”

It wasn’t for me. That was a prayer to nobody in particular. I didn’t say anything back. There wasn’t anything to say. His question came to mind. How many more people had to die?

So I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him. He broke in my hold, quiet at first. But then I felt warm tears against my arm.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I know, boo. I know.”

Solo cried for a few minutes. In the way a man only does when he thinks no one’s gonna speak about it later. Then he pulled back and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. I stood to grab some tissue from the table. I handed him one, but he just looked at me. Like a kid again. So, I dabbed his cheeks for him.

“You’ll make a good mama one day,” he teased, voice hoarse.

I laughed. “I’ll leave that to the others. I don’t think cleaning up snot automatically qualifies me.”

He smiled, soft and boyish. That smile always did something to me, even when it was drenched in sadness. Then, before I could shift away, he leaned in and kissed me. A sweet one. Just a brush of lips—quiet and full of something we didn’t speak on.

He stood up after that.

“I guess we should get back,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You go first, since my sensitive ass brother down there.”

I gave a soft chuckle and nodded. I hugged him once more before stepping out. I didn’t go straight back. I actually used the bathroom this time, splashed cold water on my cheeks, reapplied a bit of lip gloss from the tube I kept in my pocket.

---

When I walked back in, the air in the waiting room shifted again. Jey was awake now—eyes narrowed, locked on me like I was the reason he couldn’t rest. Typical. I rolled my eyes and kept walking. So much for being sleep.

I made my way back to Kiyah, who was already giving me one of her looks.

“What, heifa?” I whispered, plopping beside her. “I had to pee and pull myself together.”

Kiyah sucked her teeth, lips curling in that slick smile she always wore when she didn’t believe a word I said.

“If you say so, hoe.”

I smirked but said nothing else. Damian gave me a nod across the room, and I nodded back. Solo still hadn’t come back by the time Natasha returned. Her eyes were tired, but there was relief behind them.

“He’s good,” she told us. “Still sleep, but stable. Y’all can go home for now. I’m staying with him.”

Everyone nodded slowly. The dread that had been weighing down the room lifted just enough for us to breathe. People started to gather their things, hugs being exchanged, goodbyes said in hushed tones.

That’s when Solo slipped back in. His face was calmer than before, but his eyes still carried that heavy weight. He went straight to Natasha, pulling her gently to the side.

While they talked, Kiyah and Jacob turned to me.

“You gon’ be good getting home?” Kiyah asked.

“I’m good. I got a ride,” I told her.

I didn’t say who. I didn’t need to. But apparently that wasn’t enough for everybody.

Jey’s voice cut through the quiet like glass. “How you get here, Nye?”

Kiyah threw her hands up so fast it was like she’d been waiting for him to act stupid.

“Does it matter?” I asked, staring right at him.

Tutor was just inches away, looking like she wanted to disappear into that oversized blanket. And here he was, pressing me like it was just us in the room.

Jey folded his arms tight, eyes still on me. “Why you just can’t tell us?”

“Us?” I repeated, brows raised. “Ain’t nobody ask but you.”

Jey really gave no fucks when he was on that bullshit.

“A car,” I added, dry as hell. “Does that satisfy you?”

It wasn't a lie. But it was my business. And I wanted to see if he had the guts to show out in front of his pregnant girlfriend.

Kiyah looked like she was about to jump in, but Jacob wrapped his arms around her neck like a bear and clamped a hand over her mouth before she could say a word.

But Jey wasn’t done. Not until Damian stepped in.

“I’m taking her home.”

Just like that. I sucked my teeth as I tilted my head to the side. Taya’s mouth fell open. Kiyah laughed. And Jimmy and Jacob weren’t even subtle about it. You could see them fighting their smirks.

Jey’s eyes raked over Damian like he was sizing him up for a fight he probably couldn’t win. Damian didn’t move, didn’t blink though.

“Ain’t you got shit to do, uce?” Jey asked, tone sharp. “Let her girls take her home.”

I rolled my neck, ready to jump in, but Damian’s arm slid in front of me.

“I do,” he said. “I can do both.”

His voice was lower than usual. He meant that shit with his chest. Jey looked offended—like somebody had just slapped the pride off him.

Kiyah was over it. “If y’all don’t chill the fuck out up in here,” she snapped. “She got a ride. So, let’s get the hell outta here.”

Her tone was loud, rude and final. I saw Tutor reach for Jey’s arm, her touch light like she was trying to ease a beast back into the cage.

“Baby, let’s go. It’s late,” she said softly.

For a second, it looked like he might snatch away. But then he didn’t. He let her tug him toward the door, though not before he gave both me and Damian one last look—tight, sharp, and burning with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t the end. I could feel it deep in my chest. I’d see his crazy ass again. And something told me… the next time would be worse.

----

A lil Q&A for y'all:

Do you think Nyeya is truly ready to open her heart to someone new, or is she just trying to outrun her past with Jey?

Nyeya keeps trying to get her groove on but something always happen. Do you think that's a sign?

The hospital scene was messy. How you feel about it?

As for Tutor, how you feeling? Did you feel bad for her at the hospital?

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 18.. (coming soon)

Chapter 16: When It Hurts So Bad

July 9th 2002 (Tuesday)

...over at Big Mike's Pool Hall

Jey sat at the far end of the bar, the bottle of Heineken sweating in his grip as the condensation slid down to meet the veins in his hand. His eyes were distant, staring through the television above the liquor shelves.

Some late afternoon game played in flashes of green and gold, but Jey wasn’t watching. His mind was somewhere else entirely—still stuck in the bedroom where the air had gone still after three words too heavy to ignore.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the fog.

“She show you some proof or something? You even see a test?”

Jey blinked, slow to register what his twin had said. He turned, brows raised, the question clinging like humidity to his skin.

“The fuck you mean, Uce?” Jey asked, his tone sharpened now. “What you tryna say?”

Jimmy didn’t even look at him, just lined up his shot at the pool table. The click of cue against ball echoed low through the nearly empty lounge. Sami leaned against the wall nearby, watching with a quiet mouth and eyes that wouldn’t meet Jey’s just yet.

“I’m saying you need to make sure instead of just going off whatever she said,” Jimmy replied smoothly, sinking the eight ball without breaking stride. “Taya showed me the test. I was right there in the bathroom when she took it. And I’ve known my baby a whole lot longer than you’ve known ol’ girl.”

There was no malice in his voice. If anything, it was the same warning tone he used when Jey used to bet too much at the dice tables—when he let emotions call his plays.

Jey leaned back on his stool, frown cutting across his face. The low light of the bar flickered off the silver in his chain as he looked between the two men.

“That’s how you really feel, Uce?” he said, nodding once, like the betrayal cut a little deeper than it should have. Then he turned his attention to Sami. “What about you, Sam? You think she playin’ me too?”

Sami scratched at the back of his neck, that guilty shuffle in his body giving him away before he even spoke. “I—look, Tutor seems cool, man. But what’s the harm in having her take another one? Just to be sure.”

Jey didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened around the bottle. Somewhere deep in his chest, something itched. An unease he hadn’t admitted. A shadow he kept telling himself wasn’t there.

“Man, y’all buggin’,” he muttered after a long pause. “Watching too much TV. My girl ain’t like that. She solid.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes like he’d heard that one before, and Sami didn’t say anything else. They didn’t have to. The silence that followed told Jey exactly how they felt.

Still, he turned his back on them both. He didn’t want to see that look in Jimmy’s eyes—the one that said I told you so before anything even happened.

And he damn sure didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe, something was off.

---

July 9th 2002 (Tuesday)

Guiding Light flickered on the screen, soft and sentimental like the moment I was trying not to ruin. Mama’s hand moved slow and rhythmic against my bare arm, brushing lazy circles that calmed my nerves just enough to keep me breathing steady.

My head rested in her lap, and every so often, she’d lean down and kissed the crown of my head like she used to when I was little. It felt safe here.

But inside… I was anything but cool and calm.

The minute the show ended, I knew I had to do it. No more dodging. No more praying she wouldn’t find out. I needed to be the one to tell her. Not some messy family friend. Not some whisper at church. Me.

When the closing credits rolled and Mama shifted to get up, I stayed behind on the couch, watching the TV like it might hold the answers.

I gave myself a little pep talk in my head.

Just do it, Nye. Don’t back out now.

By the time I made it into the kitchen, Mama was already rinsing chicken in the sink, humming to herself like she didn’t have a clue that the air around us was about to change. I hopped up on the counter, tapping my thighs, pretending I wasn’t a bundle of nerves about to unravel.

“Something on your mind?” she asked without turning around.

I paused, biting the inside of my cheek. Then nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.

“Uh, I do,” I said slowly. “You remember how I said I had two jobs while I was living with Auntie Darlene?”

She turned her head a little and nodded like, go on, baby.

I started wringing my hands together. It felt like they were the only things brave enough to speak.

“I worked at the school doing work-study. And I—” I hesitated, then pushed the words out before I could swallow them again. “And I danced at night to help pay for school and other things I needed.”

It was barely above a whisper. I don’t even know how she heard me, but she did. I could tell by the stillness that followed. Not an ounce of movement. Just the water running and my heart hammering against my chest like it wanted out.

Then she spoke.

“Darlene was right then. She felt something was up when you’d came home in the early hours of the morning. And the abrupt move out didn’t help and neither did those envelopes full of money. Work-study doesn’t pay enough for all that.”

I blinked. Aunt Darlene… snitched? My mouth dropped.

“You knew? She knew? Oh my God,” I said, covering my face like it might erase the moment.

Mama laughed. That same full-bellied, soft-mouthed laugh I’d always loved.

“I didn’t know for sure,” she said, turning the water off. “But all that money you pulled out at the car dealership kind of confirmed it for me.”

Relief and embarrassment crashed into me like two waves meeting in the middle. I rubbed my hands down my face.

“Ma, I’m sorry…”

She cut me off with a wave of her hand before I could even finish.

“I don’t need no apologies. You’re an adult. Enjoy that freedom but also be ready to face those consequences that come with it.”

She dried her hands and walked over, placing one warm palm against my cheek. Her eyes found mine, gentle and unwavering.

“I’m proud of you. Never forget that. You stayed out of trouble, got your degree, and came home to me in one piece. I know I got a smart baby, so I know you’ll make the right choices.”

That was it. That was the moment. The wall I’d built between us over guilt and fear crumbled. I threw my arms around her neck, tears springing to my eyes before I could stop them.

“Mama, I promise I won’t dance forever. I still want to be a psychologist. And that’s what I will be. And if it ever gets too dangerous, I’ll leave it behind right then and there. I promise not to leave you.”

She held me tighter than I deserved, kissing my cheek with the kind of love that forgives what you don’t even know how to confess.

“I know, baby. I know you will.”

We said our I love yous like we always did, and just like that, the room settled back into comfort. Like nothing had changed at all. But I knew better.

I tucked that promise deep into my chest like a prayer. One I knew I’d have to keep.

---

July 10th 2002 (Wednesday)

I didn’t go to work Wednesday night. Not out of fear. Not completely. It was Solo’s warning that stayed with me about not showing my face on certain nights. And Jey knowing where I work didn’t help none either.

I’d already decided I wasn’t stepping foot in Sugah’s on a weekday again. Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays—those were the only nights I’d show face now. I’d let Sugah know next time I clocked in.

Maybe I’d find a new club to hit on the weekdays, but that meant leaving the city. And I wasn’t ready to do that just yet. If the money started drying up, then I’d make moves.

Instead, it became a night for the girls. My girls. Kiyah, Nataya, and Natasha. They’d been begging to see the new place. I said yes before I could talk myself out of it. I picked up a few things for dinner—taco shells, ground beef, taco mix, shredded cheese, a little guac on the side. You know all the extras needed for tacos.

Plus, a little pot of Rotel for nachos. And because I wanted to spoil us just a little, I grabbed some of that fancy champagne they kept locked up behind glass at the liquor store.

I’d already wiped down the counters and fluffed the throw pillows before Kiyah came through the door at 7 on the dot. She was in a whole pajama set with a silk bonnet and her overnight bag slung on her shoulder like this was The Real World and we were all moving in.

I squinted at her. “Is this what we doing? You ain’t say nothing about spending the night, heifa.”

She popped her gum and snapped her fingers. “And what about it? You knew I was coming to stay. I don’t drink and drive no mo’.”

I gave her that look—eyebrows raised, mouth tight—and she gave it right back. Two seconds later we were doubled over laughing because the both of us knew damn well Kiyah still had that reckless streak. She just liked playing grown now.

The twins pulled up right after. Same deal—nightclothes, duffles, hair tied up like it was a slumber party they RSVP’d to without me. That’s when it hit me. This shit was planned. And I was the last to know.

“At this point, I’m charging all y’all,” I huffed, watching them get comfortable. “I ain’t approve no sleepover.”

Nobody paid me no mind.

---

It didn’t take long for Nataya to find her way into the kitchen like it was hers. She clapped when she saw what I made, fixed two plates like she hadn’t eaten in weeks, and hummed her way right back into the living room.

“Thanks baby,” she sang, kissing my cheek. “I’ll be back for seconds.”

Once plates were made and drinks were poured, we flopped down in the living room like we used to back in the day. My Wife & Kids was on the screen. Champagne sparkled in their glasses. My heart felt lighter just having them close.

By 10, we were stretched out across my couch and floor—full, tipsy, giggling. MTV was playing in the background, but we weren’t paying it no real mind. The conversation had turned to real things.

I told them everything. How I’d started dancing to help with school but liked it enough to keep doing it. I watched each of their faces as I spoke, already knowing how they’d react.

Kiyah was hype, standing up mid-sip talking ‘bout how she was to start shaking ass too.

Natasha’s mouth dropped open, hands in her lap like she couldn’t believe I’d kept this from her.

Nataya was full of questions, asking if Sugah’s was like The Players Club and if I had a diamond stage name.

“It ain’t been that exciting,” I admitted with a small laugh. “More of a soft hustle than a show.”

But when I told them Jey followed me home after seeing me dancing at Sugah’s. And how he forced his way in like he still had the right to be all up in my space.

The room shifted.

“He so damn annoying,” Natasha snapped. “Like, I would’ve called the cops on his punk ass.”

Kiyah nodded, chip in one hand, champagne in the other. “He always been crazy but like—ain’t you got a girl? And said girl supposed to be pregnant?”

That’s when it happened. Like someone yanked the needle off the record. Like a loud pop right before a storm. The silence was thick, like fog, like molasses sliding down the walls.

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Pregnant?

“I know you fucking lying. Who told you that?” Natasha gasped, with a hand paused mid-air with a chip between her fingers.

Kiyah didn’t miss a beat, sipping her champagne like she was sipping tea. “I overheard Tama telling Jacob that he heard from Tonga who heard from Bronson that Tutor told Jey she was pregnant.”

It sounded like a game of telephone with life-altering consequences. I sat there, stunned into silence as the rest of them went off.

“I ain’t really talked to Jimmy since last week,” Nataya chimed in, adjusting the strap of her tank top. “But I’m sure he knows. That’s his twin. Jimmy never liked ole girl, so I’m sure he’s upset.”

I could barely hear them after that. The room started to fade in and out like static. My champagne glass felt weightless in my hand. My chest was too tight, like something was clawing around inside, trying to get out but with nowhere to go.

Natasha must’ve noticed because she pinched my arm, soft but sharp enough to ground me.

“You good, boo?”

I blinked, looked over at her, then at the other girls like I was just now realizing where I was.

“Yea. Yea, I’m okay,” I muttered. “That’s just… crazy news considering he was just here Sunday breaking and entering my house.”

---

I didn’t say it, but I was mad. Mad as hell, actually. Yea I probably shouldn’t have been, but I was. Because how could he? How could he let this happen?

He was just in my space. Just in my face. Kissing me like he still wanted me. Threatening his own blood over me. And now this? A baby? Nah. I wasn’t okay at all about the news.

I finished my glass and poured another. I wasn’t about to sit in this feeling sober.

“You know I think she lying though,” Kiyah said, crossing her legs and letting her bracelet catch the light. “She give me sneaky. Like, I just don’t get good vibes from her ass.”

That pulled the rest of us back in.

“What you mean?” Nataya leaned forward. “You think she trying to trap Jey? Why?”

Kiyah sucked her teeth, her eyes narrow with suspicion. “I sure do believe little Miss Tutor playing games. She know her time is up and what’s the best way to stop the inevitable?” She looked at each of us before finishing her thought. “A baby. Jey is a lot of things, but his ass gon’ take care of his seeds.”

That much I knew was true. Jey always wanted a family—someone to pour into the way nobody poured into him. He used to talk about it like it was his salvation.

So maybe Kiyah was right. Maybe this was her Hail Mary. And maybe he was willing to catch it.

I stayed quiet though. My head felt like it was filled with cotton and questions. I didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to believe. But it all sat heavy. Everything did.

---

Eventually, the conversation shifted to something lighter—talk of the crawfish festival coming up. The girls were excited. I said I’d go. I needed something to look forward to. Something to balance out all the bitterness floating around in my chest.

“I’m eating every crawfish I encounter,” I declared, trying to summon a little joy.

That earned a round of laughs. The energy softened. For a second, we were us again.

Until Nataya picked up my glass, pouring herself a drink.

“Woah there, woadie. You can’t be drinking that,” I reminded her, brow raised.

Nataya and Natasha exchanged glances like they’d just had a whole conversation in code.

“It’s okay, Nye,” Nataya said softly, her voice lighter than usual. “I can drink now.”

My stomach dropped. Kiyah turned to look at me. I turned to look at her. The same thought passed between us like smoke.

“Girl, what?” Kiyah asked, her voice lower now. “The doctor told you that or what?”

Nataya looked down, twisting the gold bracelet Jimmy gave her years ago. The one that look liked mines back then but carried a different weight.

She stayed quiet, almost contemplative. I just knew she was about to say something that would change everything.

“I’m not pregnant no more, you guys.”

Taya’s voice barely made it across the room. It was low, fragile. The kind of tone that didn’t ask for questions, only silence. But silence doesn’t always arrive fast enough. My heart tightened in my chest like it knew exactly what those words meant.

I swallowed hard. Across from me, Kiyah’s mouth parted slightly, her expression already falling. She was catching up to the same realization I had.

“Taya…” Kiyah whispered, shaking her head. “You did it? Oh my God. Does Jimmy know?”

Taya couldn’t even look at us. Her eyes dropped to the floor and stayed there, heavy and still. That was our answer. Natasha confirmed it with a bitter truth.

“No, he doesn’t know,” she said. “But once he does, he best be cool. That was Taya’s choice. Her body, her choice.”

The weight of it all dropped like bricks. The air in my chest felt thin. Natasha was right—Taya had every right to make the decision that was best for her—but I couldn’t stop thinking about Jimmy.

I knew what that baby meant to him. I knew what it would mean to lose it. Again.

My body moved before my mind could catch up. I pulled Taya into my arms, and the moment I did, she broke. Completely. Her whole body trembled as the tears came. Loud. Ugly. Raw. She cried like she’d been holding it in for weeks, like the grief and shame were clawing their way out all at once.

“I couldn’t do it,” she sobbed. “I… I’m too young. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I gripped her tighter, whispering gently as her pain shook against my chest. “We got you, Taya. No matter what, we got you.”

Kiyah and Natasha wrapped themselves around us too. It was instinct—unspoken and sacred. A wall of warmth around our sister. That’s what we were. Four girls who had grown up in chaos, learning how to hold each other when the world gave us nothing but hurt.

We didn’t talk anymore after that. There was nothing left to say. Nataya cried herself to sleep in my lap. We all ended up curled up on the makeshift bed in the living room, arms and legs tangled like old times—back when our biggest worry was a missed curfew or a bad grade. Sleep found us slow and quiet, and we let it.

---

July 11th 2002 (Thursday)

By morning, things seemed to have shifted back to normal for us. But I could see the residue of the night before lingering in everyone’s eyes. Taya moved slower. Natasha was quieter. Kiyah had her usual fire, but even that felt dimmed at the edges. I felt it too. I held it in my bones.

Still, we rose together. Taya helped me cook breakfast—pancakes, grits, eggs, sausages, and bacon. We moved around the kitchen like clockwork, saying little, doing much. When we all sat down to eat, the silence was comfortable. No one forced conversation. We just… were.

After we ate, the girls took their turns showering, getting dressed for the day. The weight hadn’t disappeared, but we carried it better in the light.

“We need to do this more often, y’all,” Taya said with a soft smile. “I enjoyed this. It felt like back in the day, when we used to sleep over each other’s houses.”

I looked at her and knew it came from a real place. That genuine kind of peace you reach after a storm. We all agreed—we needed more nights like that. More sisterhood. More space to be soft and scared and understood.

And as they left one by one, I knew we’d be good no matter what came next.

---

I was left alone with my own thoughts once the girls pulled out the driveway. Their laughter and perfume still lingered in the air, but everything else fell quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your brain wander, makes your heart ache just a little more than it should.

Jey was on my mind heavy. The thought of him possibly being a father. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

It hurt more than I wanted to admit. That used to be our dream—something sweet we whispered about in those brief moments when life didn’t feel so bad.

Back when we were still “we.” But now… now it just felt like another door slammed in my face.

Maybe this would be the thing to finally make him leave me alone. Maybe this baby would give him a reason to stop showing up, stop rewinding our pain just to press play again. I could seal those wounds back up for good. Let the past stay buried where it belonged.

My phone vibrated against the table, pulling me out of the spiral. It was Damian.

I answered, voice flat but polite. “Hey.”

He caught it immediately.

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

I sighed, leaning back on the couch. “Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

He didn’t push. But I knew him. He’d circle back eventually, find a way to check in without prying. That was his way.

“Enough about me,” I added, forcing lightness into my voice. “What’s up?”

“I called to ask you on a date,” Damian said, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

I blinked. “A date?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Nye. A real one. You free tonight?”

I was torn. Was this taking things too far? What would come of it? And just as I was about to bring up Jey, I stopped myself. Jey had a girlfriend and a baby on the way. He didn’t get to be a deciding factor in my decisions anymore.

He wasn’t mine. And I wasn’t his.

So, I made the decision. “Yeah. I’m free. What time you thinking?”

“Eight,” he said. “I’ll pick you up. The spot’s a surprise.”

We talked a little longer—nothing too deep. And once the line disconnected, I was surprised to feel something flutter in my chest. It was excitement brewing. The kind you experience when you do something unexpected or rebellious.

I was nervous too, in a way that made my stomach tighten. There was something about the way Damian looked at me like he could see through me and all the walls I had built. It was how he could make me feel shy and alive at the same time that drew me in.

Trouble would probably come from this but I pushed that to the back of my mind.

---

I showered, slipped into something simple but cute, and twisted my hair into a knot on top of my head. My mood was lighter. It felt good to be desired by someone without baggage dragging behind him.

I grabbed my purse, shut the lights off, and headed out into the garage. The engine purred to life. The garage door lifted like the beginning of something new. I eased back, ready to get my day started as my night was looking real promising.

But I couldn’t move because there it was. That damn BMW. It was parked in the middle of my driveway like it belonged there.

And behind the wheel was Jey, like his ass was on the lease too. I slapped the steering wheel, hard enough to make my hand sting. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just leave me alone.

I was finally ready to move on for good and leave his ass in the past. Ready to move forward without looking over my shoulder for his shadow. And for a second, I really thought about pushing the gas and ramming right into his shit just to get the message across. But I wasn’t trying to explain that to the insurance company.

So, I sat there with the doors locked and my arms crossed. Destiny’s Child's, "Bug A Boo" played low on the radio. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

“You make me wanna throw my pager out the window… Tell MCI to cut the phone poles… Break my lease so I can move… 'Cause you a bug a boo, a bug a boo…”

The lyrics made me smirk bitterly because that’s exactly what Jey was. A bug a boo.

----

A lil Q&A for y'all:

Do you think Tutor is really pregnant?

How you think Jimmy gon' take it when he find out Taya got rid of their baby?

As for Jey, why you think he pulled up Nyeya again so soon?

AN: Chapter 17 dropping in a few days. Been working on it.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 17.. (coming soon)

(Y'all I apologize for leaving y'all yet again. Life ain't playing with me and I be doubting myself when it come to the writing. So please, forgive me. I love y'all.)

Chapter 14: He Won’t Go

...early hours of Sunday morning

Jey had been sitting in that car for over an hour, letting the darkness wrap itself around him like a bad idea. The bottle of Hennessy he’d been nursing was now bone dry, its warmth settled in his chest and behind his eyes, pushing him past reasoning.

His thumb tapped restlessly against the steering wheel as he watched the garage door Nyeya had slipped through earlier.

He’d clocked everything in that time. The lights never came back on. The street stayed quiet. No one walked by. And the section of the complex Nyeya had moved into? Still looked unfinished. It was just her.

That was the part that made him smirk. No neighbors. No witnesses.

He leaned forward, knuckles tapping the wheel as he played out his options. Should he knock? Rig the garage? Climb through a window? He shook his head, half-laughing to himself. He’d keep it simple. Ring the doorbell, jump to the side, and wait. She’d opened it. Maybe just enough. All he needed was a crack to wedge his foot in. The rest? He’d handle.

His phone lit up just as he reached for the door handle.

Tutor.

She never called him when he said he had something to handle. Especially not this late. That pissed him off more than it should have. Still, he answered.

His voice came out rough. “What?”

There was a soft pause before she spoke. “Are you okay?”

He scoffed, rubbing his palm over his face. “Tutor, the fuck is this, man? I told you I had shit to handle.”

Another pause, longer this time. He could hear her swallow. “I know. I just... I was worried.”

He clenched his jaw. She didn’t deserve that tone, not really. But he couldn’t help it. She was calling at the wrong time, asking the wrong questions. He didn’t want peace. Not tonight.

“I’ll see you when I get home,” he said flatly, then hung up.

He tossed the phone down, grabbed his beanie from the dash, and stepped out of the car. The air was thick, humid, like it had soaked up everything he’d been trying to bury. His black Forces hit the pavement quiet and quick. He walked with purpose across the driveway, eyes scanning the street. Still clear. Still calm.

He reached for the doorbell and pressed it twice. The sharp chime echoed from inside. A few seconds passed. Then a light clicked on in the front room. That was his cue.

He stepped quickly to the right of the door, close enough to reach it but out of her direct line of sight.

She’d open it.

And he’d be ready.

---

July 7th 2002 (Early Sunday Morning)

I wasn’t asleep. I was in the middle of folding towels fresh from the dryer, humming along to a song playing in my head while the scent of that Black Chamomile candle drifted through the house. It was close to three in the morning, and the last thing I expected was a doorbell.

I paused because who could that be at this time of morning. My first thought was Damian—maybe back for round two of his confusion. Or maybe it was Kiyah, or one of the twins, pulling something late-night and unannounced. Still, even for them, this was a stretch.

I moved toward the door, turned the lamp on, and peeked through the peephole. No one was there. For a second I stood there, staring at nothing. The porch was empty.

I shook my head, shrugged it off, and turned to head back to my room. Before I could even turn the lamp off, the doorbell rang again. I looked back at the door I had just walked away from.

“What in the world?” I muttered under my breath.

Back go to the peephole I went but still nothing was there. I was officially over it at that point. The doorbell might’ve been broken. I’d tell the rental office first thing Monday morning.

But as I walked away it rang again. No let ups like somebody was pressing it down. I knew then this wasn’t technical. This was intentional.

I looked toward the bedroom. The bat was propped in the corner, within reach. I didn’t need the gun—not yet. Plus, I didn’t need to be waving that shit around willy nilly. If this was some fool playing games, just call me Babe Ruth, ‘cause I was gon’ swing like a professional.

Gripping the bat, I held it close with one hand as I unlatched the lock and slowly pulled the door open with the other.

The ringing stopped instantly.

---

And there he was.

I didn’t hesitate. I still swung that bat like my life depended on it.

“Nyeya, damn! Put that shit down—it’s me!” he yelled, jumping back.

Jey.

I knew but that didn’t mean nothing to me. He ducked the first swing, barely, but I knew I got a piece of something. He clutched his shoulder like I’d made contact. Good. That was the goal. I pulled back to swing again.

“How the fuck you know where I live?” I shouted.

He dodged again, moving to the side like this was some game.

“Nyeya, chill! Damn, just chill—”

I ignored all of what he was saying. I was too busy piecing it all together: between the black Nissan sitting at the end of my driveway and the suspect timing. I knew this man had followed me home. He sat outside waiting for the right moment. That realization set something off in me, something sharp and searing.

I swung again with everything I had left in me, but this time he caught the bat midair. We struggled for it, tug-of-war style, but he was stronger and drunk enough not to feel any of the shame he should’ve.

Fine. I was gone let him have the damn bat. I’d just slam the door in his face and be done with it. I let go and moved fast, swinging the door shut with all the force I had—

But it didn’t close.

His foot was wedged in it.

“Jey, move your damn foot before I crush that shit with this door!” I barked, trying to kick at his sneaker.

“I’m not going nowhere. You know I’ll knock this shit down. Stop playin’ with me, Nyeya.”

I wished he would. I wasn’t above calling the police. Hell, I was seconds from doing it. Let him sit in county with the real fools till Monday. I’d make sure I was there at his court date to tell the Judge to keep his crazy ass in there.

I yanked the door back just enough to build momentum and then slammed it hard. I realized I’d made a mistake with timing. He took that opportunity to bulldoze his way inside.

Literally shoved past me like I was air, almost knocking me off my feet. I stumbled back, breath caught in my chest, heart pounding in my throat.

“Are you crazy or just stupid? Get the fuck out of my house, idiot!”

---

He stood in the living room, eyes scanning like he was looking for something. Like he expected to find somebody. His chest rising and falling from dodging them swings just minutes ago.

I made a break for my phone. I wasn’t about to keep yelling—I’d let the cops handle this fool. Just as I was getting ready to dial, he grabbed it cleaned out my grip and launched it across the room. It hit the wall and dropped to the carpet with a sickening thud.

My eyes lingered on it briefly before my fuse popped. I swung at him, fists flying, yelling every curse word I could think of. I wasn’t about to let him pull this mess in my house, not tonight, not ever.

“Nyeya, stop! Stop hitting me!” he shouted, arms trying to block the blows.

But I kept going. My hand landed across his jaw and that did it. He grabbed me, slung me onto the couch with one motion that made the whole room spin.

“I told yo’ mean ass to stop. Now is you gone chill?”

---

I was breathing hard, little nostrils flaring and chest heaving. No, I had no intention of chilling. He came into my house, where I slept and paid bills alone, and thought I was going to chill.

Nope. I intended on beating his ass until he left or the cops got there. I had a landline, not just a cellphone, so the cops were definitely being called even if he left.

“You come in my house, uninvited, unannounced, expecting me to chill. Boy, fuck you. You done lost the last bit of mind you had left.”

I said it standing up, every inch of me vibrating with fury. Jey just looked at me. He looked at me with those sad puppy dog eyes, like that shit was supposed to work. Like I was supposed to melt.

I moved toward him, hand cocked and ready to strike again, but he grabbed my wrist before I could.

“Nyeya, chill. Aight. Chill. We can talk like adults.”

Talk like adults? I stared at him like he’d grown two heads. After stalking me home and breaking into my house, now he wanted to talk?

A laugh slipped out, short and bitter. “Jey, you crazier than I thought. You really stalked my ass, came to my house, and now you wanna talk. Like we friends. Like we cool. Bitch, we ain’t none of that and never will be after this.”

He frowned but didn’t say anything. I yanked my wrist away from him and backed up slowly, eyeing the hallway. I needed to get to my room. The phone. My gun. I was playing it cool now, but one wrong move and he’d be eating carpet until the police came.

I sat on the edge of the sofa, seething, barely holding myself together. The television was off, and the silence in the room felt sharp enough to slice skin. Jey took that as a sign that he was welcome. He eased into the chair like we were about to kick it and watch a movie.

I could feel his presence beside me, heavy and irritating. From the corner of my eye, I caught how he looked—dressed in all black. Black beanie, black shirt, black jeans, black forces. He had planned this. He came ready for war. And that made my stomach turn.

They always say women ignore the signs. Maybe I had. Maybe I wanted to believe I could come home and be free of this type of drama. But that was wishful thinking.

---

We sat there in tense silence until he finally spoke.

“You really dancing, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. So that’s how he found me. Sugah’s. Somebody ran their mouth. It wasn’t Solo. He wouldn’t as that was our secret. So, who?

Still, I didn’t flinch. “Yup, I am.”

He stared at me, face stuck somewhere between confusion and betrayal, like he hadn’t followed me, like he hadn’t already seen it with his own eyes.

I turned and met his gaze head-on but said nothing more. Let him sit in it.

He started to go off but switched lanes. “What you dancing for, Nyeya? To do what? You can’t get no regular job? I thought you was going to school.”

I made a face. Of course he wouldn’t get it. Of course he’d question me. Like he hadn’t played the biggest part in shaping the version of me he was looking at now.

He didn’t know what it meant to survive your heartbreak and wake up determined not to ever need another man to save you. He didn’t know about the hunger in me. The fire. The freedom. And he probably wouldn’t understand if I told him.

---

I needed to set the record straight though.

"Let me tell you something. I can do what I want. I’m grown. So, if I want to shake my ass for cash, I will. If I want to sell drugs, I will. If I want to gangbang, I will. Just like you. You do what you want too. Right. As will I.”

I sat back and crossed my legs. If he wanted to get real, then we were going to get real. That flash of anger that passed over his face didn’t even last a second, but I saw it.

He knew I had a point. Knew I was right, and he hated that more than anything.

“That shit ain’t for women like you. You ain’t gotta do no shit like that, Nyeya. Damn. You left just to become a stripper?” he said, voice strained like the very thought pained him.

I shook my head, biting down the bitter smile that tried to rise. Of course he didn’t get it.

“No. I left to get away from you. What you not understanding? You. I left to get away from you, Jey.”

His mouth opened to respond, but I lifted my hand, cutting him off.

“And how would you know what kind of woman I am? I left three years ago. A lot can change, and it did. I do what I do because that’s how I stay free. How I take care of me without having to depend on men like you.”

He flinched. It was subtle, but I caught it. Still, I rubbed my temples, wondering why I was even explaining myself. He’d never understand.

“Ba—Nyeya, I would’ve taken care of you. I can still take ca—”

A sharp laugh ripped from my throat, cutting through his sentence like a blade.

“You bet not finish that damn sentence. Take care of who? Tutor? You done come in my house forgetting you not single, you not available. And one more thing—even if you were, I wouldn’t want you.”

He sucked his teeth, a loud, annoyed sound that made my skin crawl.

I stood up and felt his eyes follow every inch of me. He didn’t move, though. Just sat there, looking like he lived there.

I bent down to pick up the phone he threw earlier off the floor. It had popped apart after hitting the wall, but I wasn’t sure if it was actually broken. Still, I placed the pieces on the coffee table and turned back to head to my room.

I could feel his gaze trailing me, lingering. My boy shorts and tank top left little to the imagination, and I knew he was looking, but he needed to remember he wasn’t welcome. Not like that. Not anymore.

As I neared the hallway, his phone rang. A saving grace if I ever needed one. I paused, waiting to see if he’d answer. He did.

“What the hell you mean she called you, Uce?”

I smirked, slipping into my room with ease. So, Tutor was trying to track her man down. I wished I had her number so I could tell her to come get him.

I reached for the phone on my nightstand, fingers just curling around it when I felt it—warm hands sliding around my waist, familiar and unwelcome all at once. The scent hit me too—Dove body soap, Hennessy, and just a whisper of weed.

“You really wanna do that?”

I shook my head. Of course I did. And I was.

"I won’t have to if you leave peacefully," I said, turning to face him, phone still in hand.

Jey licked his lips as he took in my features, his hands still glued to my waist. I knew that look. I knew what he wanted. Too bad for him.

"You know you should get home before Tutor calls somebody else," I added, watching the irritation spread across his face like wildfire.

He frowned, scowling at me, the gold grills in his mouth gleaming like temptation in dim light. He used to drive me wild. Now? He just pissed me off.

"Why you gotta go there, huh? Don’t think about that shit," he said, his voice quiet but loaded.

I tried to pull away. I wasn’t about to do this with him. Not again.

"Jey, move. I never took you for a cheater, but I see you on new shit. Move around. Scram."

---

He held on, stubborn and steady, his eyes falling to my lips. I should’ve seen it coming. His lips met mine, and for a split second—just a moment longer than I should’ve let it—I didn’t pull away.

His hands traveled down my body, stopping on my ass where he squeezed, and I felt my body betray me, my arms looping around his neck like instinct.

The kiss deepened, heat flooding between us. It had been so long, too long, since I’d been touched like that. I wanted to lose myself in it. Just for a second. But reality hit me when his lips trailed to my neck, when his hands started pulling at the hem of my shirt.

I found the strength and pushed him back.

"The fuck are you doing, Nyeya," I said out loud, more to myself than to him.

Jey reached for me again, and I shoved his hands away.

"Jey, leave before I call them people. Just leave, okay? Forget my address."

His whole vibe shifted, like a switch flipped. "Really, Nyeya? We finally getting somewhere and this what you wanna do?"

I pushed him again, harder this time. "Man, leave. We not getting nowhere. I’m not about to play second fiddle to no bitch. This shit keep happening because I need dick, not you. Get out."

His hands caught mine, but I pulled free again.

"Let me give it to you. Why not me? You giving my shit to someone else?" he hissed.

I blinked. My heart pounded, but my mouth moved on its own. Words poured out before I could stop them.

"Boy please. This my shit, and I’ll give it to whoever I deem worthy of it. Just know you not."

His face twisted. He looked wrecked. "You fucking Solo? My brother! You really taking it there?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, smirked again. If he wanted to go low, I’d bury him.

"Solo? Nah, not yet. But then again, I’m still deciding on it."

The tone was deliberate—smug, calculated, cold. I saw the moment it hit him. Jey froze. He looked away. His fists clenched at his sides. Then he turned back. Eyes colder than I’d ever seen them.

"The moment you decide to, Solo’s dead." He paused, let the words hang like smoke. "You hear me? Solo fucking dead, Nyeya."

I staggered internally. My brain screamed he wouldn’t. But my heart—my gut? They weren’t so sure.

He closed the space between us like a storm, his forehead pressing against mine before I could flinch.

"I’m not letting you go this time. So, for the record, baby—I’ll kill everybody standing in my way of having you. ‘Cause if I can’t have you, no one can."

My skin turned to ice. Jey kissed my forehead gently, almost sweetly, before he turned and walked away. I stood there, rooted, until I heard the front door open and close. Only then did I breathe.

Even three years later, I was learning all over again that freedom wasn’t always real. Sometimes, it was just a story you told yourself to sleep at night.

----

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 15.. (coming soon)

The drive away from the city felt endless. Armani didn’t realize how far out they were heading until the neon skyline of Miami disappeared into the rearview mirror.

She stared ahead, the tension in her stomach growing heavier with every passing minute.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked.

Josh didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even glance at her.

“Home.”

Her brows pulled together. Home?

She had spent weeks in his condo. If that wasn’t home, then—

Her pulse spiked. After all that happened she forgot about his house.

“So your finally showing me your house now?” she said, more a statement than a question.

Josh smirked slightly but kept his eyes on the road. “Yeah.”

“And you never thought to mention it?”

“Had to make sure I could trust you first.”

Armani exhaled sharply, leaning back into the seat. “And now you think you can?”

Josh chuckled under his breath. “I know I can.”

She side-eyed him. “How?”

His smirk widened. “Because you’re a trained agent, and you ain’t once come at me yet.”

Her jaw tightened. Because deep down, she knew he was right.

If she really wanted to take him down, she would’ve tried already.

But she hadn’t.

She sat in silence as they drove deeper into Southwest Ranches, where the city noise faded into sprawling private estates, tree-lined roads, and properties too large to be seen from the street.

Josh turned down a long, private driveway secured by a sleek black gate with cameras embedded in the stone pillars. The iron slid open smoothly at his command, revealing a secluded, modern Mediterranean-style home.

The place was massive—but not over the top.

White stucco walls, dark wood accents, oversized windows reflecting the moonlight. The driveway curved around a three-car garage, leading to a front entrance framed by neatly trimmed hedges.

Armani swallowed.

This was not what she expected.

Josh parked and got out first, grabbing their bags from the back. Armani followed slowly, her eyes scanning the security cameras tucked into the exterior, the way the house was hidden from the main road.

She had spent weeks in his condo. And the whole time, this existed?

Josh unlocked the front door and stepped aside. “Go ahead.”

Armani hesitated before finally stepping inside.

The interior was bright, airy, and warm—nothing like the sleek bachelor pad she had expected.

Soft whites, warm neutrals, natural wood tones. The furniture was modern yet inviting. The living room featured a plush sectional facing a sleek fireplace, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the backyard.

And then, the details started hitting her.

• The candles on the entryway table—her favorite scent.

• The books on the nightstand in the sitting area—titles she had mentioned in passing.

• The kitchen—bright, open, stocked with her favorite teas, snacks, and the exact coffee she drank every morning.

She swallowed hard.

Josh dropped the bags by the door, watching her. “Hungry?”

She blinked, her body stiff. “What?”

“Your stomach been growling the whole way here.” His tone was casual, but his gaze wasn’t. “I’ll fix you somethin.”

Before she could process it, he was already moving toward the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he pulled out ingredients.

Now was her chance.

She stormed the house.

She walked through every hallway, every room.

The bedroom—too personal. A king-sized bed with white linens, soft beige and gold accents. A cozy sitting area by the balcony. The nightstand held her favorite candles, with an iPad sitting next to them.

The bathroom—a spa-like retreat with a soaking tub, a rainfall shower, and double vanity. Her favorite skincare products already placed neatly on the counter.

The walk-in closet—half-empty. Waiting.

Waiting for her.

She felt suffocated.

How did he know all of this, what all she liked even down to the scent of candles.

He planned for this. For her.

She checked the office next. Files. Ledgers. Security monitors.

She tried one of the desk drawers. Locked.

Of course.

Her breath came short, sharp. She needed air.

She moved quickly, making her way through the house until she found a door leading to the private garage.

The lights flicked on automatically. Armani froze.

Luxury cars. Lined up. All his.

But one, parked in the corner, stood out immediately.

A matte black Mercedes G-Wagon.

Her dream car.

Her stomach flipped.

She had a feeling it was for her.

And the second she realized that—he was there.

“You like it?”

His deep voice sent a chill down her spine.

Armani turned slowly. Josh stood at the entrance, completely at ease, his hands in his pockets.

She exhaled, voice tight. “Why the fuck do you have all this?”

Josh smirked. “Why you think?”

Her chest rose and fell. “Joshua Fatu.”

He stepped closer, gaze dark. “I like hearin’ you say my full name.”

She pressed her lips together, watching him. He smiled before sighing. “You know usually when someone is given their dream house they say thanks.”

Her stomach dropped.

“Josh,” was all she could say.

Josh tilted his head. “You really thought I wouldn’t know? You had your whole life mapped out on that Pinterest shit. Dream house. Dream car. Shit, even the candles you like.”

Armani’s pulse pounded.

This wasn’t just him making space for her.

He built this entire life around her.

She wasn’t sure if she should be pissed, terrified, or impressed.

Josh watched her carefully. “Say somethin’.”

Armani let out a slow breath. She was exhausted. Sick of fighting. Sick of trying to untangle the mess she had found herself in.

She glanced back at the G-Wagon. Then at the house that was never just his.

Then she turned, walking past him, back toward the kitchen.

Josh smirked, following. “That mean you like it?”

Armani didn’t respond. Didn’t fight it.

Because at this point, she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

The kitchen was quiet. 

The only sounds were the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain and the faint hum of the refrigerator.

Josh had thrown together something light—easy on the stomach. Armani hadn’t even realized how hungry she was until she started eating.

She still felt off—nauseous, exhausted, her body aching in ways she couldn’t quite explain. Stress, she told herself. It had to be stress.

Josh ate across from her, his posture too relaxed for a man who had just flipped her entire life upside down. His eyes flicked to her every so often, like he was waiting for her to say something.

She was.

She was just trying to figure out where the hell to start.

After a few slow bites, she put her spoon down. “So, what are you planning to do about Paul?”

Josh didn’t even blink.

His attention stayed on his food, unfazed, like she’d just asked him about the damn weather.

Armani exhaled. “Josh.”

His dark eyes lifted to hers, slow and steady. “Why you need to know that?”

“You know exactly why.” she said, voice tight.

Josh smirked slightly, shaking his head. “You just got here, and that’s the first thing you wanna ask me?”

She clenched her jaw. “I need to know.”

Josh leaned back slightly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “You don’t need to know shit.”

Armani scoffed. “Josh.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

She stared at him, pulse ticking in her throat. “What the fuck are you about to do with him?”

Josh exhaled, pushing his bowl away. “I told you already—you don’t have to worry bout that shit no more, I’m handling it.”

Her breath caught. “But—”

“You’re not an agent anymore, Armani.” His voice was calm, final. “Paul? That’s my business. Not yours.”

A chill ran down her spine.

She studied him, searching for something—anything that would tell her what he was planning. But his expression was unreadable.

Josh was already done with the conversation.

She clenched her fists under the table, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. She wanted to push. Wanted to demand answers.

But would it even matter?

Josh had already decided.

She wouldn’t get anything out of him.

So, she exhaled slowly, picking up her spoon again. “So that’s it, huh? I’m supposed to just sit here and eat while you handle shit?”

Josh smirked. “Now you gettin’ it.”

Armani shook her head but didn’t argue.

She focused on finishing her meal, the weight of everything unspoken settling heavy in the air between them.

After dinner, Josh led her down the hall, stopping outside the master bedroom.

“I got a room jus for you,” he said, his voice unreadable. “If you don’t wanna sleep in here with me tonight.”

Armani arched a brow. “You’re giving me a choice?”

Josh’s lips twitched. “To sleep, yeah.” Then his smirk faded slightly, and his eyes darkened just a little. “But don’t try no funny shit, Armani.”

Her stomach clenched.

“I’ll know,” he added.

Armani exhaled through her nose, shaking her head as she turned to walk off. “Of course you will.”

She barely took one step before a firm grip caught her wrist.

The air shifted.

Before she could react, Josh spun her back around, crashing his lips against hers.

Her breath hitched—then she melted.

His grip was tight, pulling her against him, his warmth, his scent, the way his body caged hers in so effortlessly. It should’ve pissed her off. Should’ve made her shove him away.

But she didn’t.

And that was the problem.

Josh’s hand slid to the nape of her neck, his fingers threading into her hair as he deepened the kiss, slow and consuming. His tongue teased hers, stealing the breath from her lungs, dragging her under.

By the time he pulled back, Armani was dizzy.

Josh smirked, watching her catch her breath, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice low. “That’s what I thought.”

Armani glared, snapping out of it. “You’re so fucking—”

Josh cut her off by grabbing her hand and pulling her into the bedroom with him.

She barely had time to process before she was inside.

She opened her mouth to argue—to say something, anything—but Josh just nodded toward the bathroom.

“Shower,” he said simply. “You look like you need it.”

Armani wanted to argue.

Wanted to push back.

But the truth was… she did need it.

She exhaled sharply, snatching up the clothes he had set aside for her, and disappeared into the bathroom.

By now she shouldn’t be surprised to find her favorite body wash and her favorite lotion—the one she used every night before bed.

She should be pissed. Should be creeped out.

But instead, she just felt… tired.

She took a long, hot shower, letting the steam soak into her skin. When she stepped out, she almost felt human again.

Slipping into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, she padded back to the bed and slid under the covers.

Soft. Warm. Safe.

Her eyelids grew heavy almost immediately.

The last thing she remembered before drifting off was the sound of the shower turning on in the master bathroom.

She woke up halfway, groggy, the scent of clean soap and warmth wrapping around her.

The mattress dipped.

A rush of heat brushed against her back, followed by a solid, familiar weight.

Josh.

His arm slid around her waist, pulling her into him like it was second nature.

Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t move.

Didn’t fight.

Didn’t even know if she wanted to.

Josh let out a deep, slow breath against her shoulder, his body relaxing against hers.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured.

His voice was gravelly, tired, real.

Armani didn’t respond.

Didn’t trust herself too.

Because despite everything—despite the chaos, the lies, the fact that he had stalked her for years and played God with her life—

She was warm.

Safe.

And she wasn’t alone.

So, just for tonight—

She let herself stop running.

Just for tonight.

The warmth of the bed wrapped around her like a cocoon, but the deep voice pulling her from sleep was impossible to ignore.

“Damn, you sleepin’ in late now?”

Armani groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow before slowly cracking her eyes open. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows, warming the room. It took her a second to realize just how bright it was outside.

Frowning, she pushed herself up on one elbow, blinking away the grogginess. “What time is it?”

Josh leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. “Almost 12.”

Her stomach dropped. Noon?

She never slept in this late. Not even on her worst days.

“You must’ve needed it,” he mused.

Armani narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Josh shrugged, pushing off the doorframe. “Nothin’. Just sayin’, it ain’t like you to be this tired.”

Her heart kicked up a little, but before she could press him, he switched gears.

“Come downstairs when you ready,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom. “There’s somebody I want you to meet.”

That caught her attention.

She sat up fully, eyeing him. “Who?”

Josh just smirked. “You’ll see when you come down.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her even more curious than before.

After showering and changing into leggings, a fitted tee, and slippers—clothes that had mysteriously appeared in the closet—Armani forced herself not to dwell on the fact that Josh had moved all her things from her apartment without her knowing.

As she made her way downstairs, the house felt different in the daylight. Brighter. More open. Yet somehow, it still didn’t feel real.

It was too much. Too intentional.

As she entered the kitchen, the scent of food hit her first. Josh stood at the stove, cooking like this was just another normal morning. But the other man sitting at the kitchen island?

Not so normal.

Armani’s steps slowed as she took him in.

Whoever he was, he was huge. Built like a damn tank, he had black and red locs pulled back, an expression that was somehow both lazy and dangerous.

His entire presence was a contradiction—calm but lethal, silent but loud.

Josh turned slightly, nodding toward him. “This is Jacob.”

Jacob lifted his chin in acknowledgment, his dark eyes sharp and assessing.

Josh’s next words knocked the air out of her.

“He’s your personal security.”

Armani’s entire body tensed. “My what?”

Josh turned back to the stove like he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell. “Your security.”

She blinked. “I don’t need security.”

Josh didn’t even bother looking at her. “Yeah, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

Josh chuckled under his breath, grabbing a plate before finally turning to her. His eyes were calm, unbothered—but firm.

“You done?”

Armani crossed her arms. “You can’t just assign me a bodyguard, Josh.”

Josh walked over, setting the plate on the island before leaning against the counter. “Ain’t a bodyguard. It’s Jacob. He’s family. And he’s with you now.”

Jacob, who had been silent this whole time, smirked. “You act like I’m happy about this shit too.”

Armani snapped her head toward him, narrowing her eyes. “Excuse me?”

Jacob shrugged, unfazed. “I don’t do babysittin’. But Josh said you need lookin’ after, so here we are.”

Armani turned back to Josh, exhaling sharply. “Josh, this is insane—”

Josh tilted his head. “Is it?”

She hated how calm he was. Hated even more that deep down, she knew he had a point.

She’d spent the last few weeks digging into him, playing with fire, running straight into the danger she was supposed to avoid. Now, everything had flipped.

Josh owned the board.

And now, he was moving the pieces.

“Jacob goes where you go,” Josh said simply. “Especially when I ain’t around.”

Armani clenched her jaw. “So I don’t get a say?”

Josh smirked. “Not on this one.”

Jacob grinned, leaning back in his seat like this was all just entertainment for him.

“Welcome to the family,” he said lazily.

Armani glared at him.

Before she could fire back, something on the TV caught her eye.

She hadn’t even noticed it was on.

But what she saw on the screen?

Froze her in place.

Breaking News: FBI Assistant Director Found Dead in Miami Hotel

Armani’s breath caught in her throat.

Her stomach twisted violently as she read the headline. Paul.

She barely heard the news anchor’s voice over the rush of blood in her ears.

Authorities discovered the body of Assistant Director Paul Levesque early this morning in a Miami hotel room. Levesque, a high-ranking official within the Organized Crime Division, was found with an alleged suicide note detailing corruption, financial greed, and his role in planting false evidence against suspects in major cases. The FBI is treating this as an isolated incident and has no further suspects at this time…

Armani’s pulse thundered.

Paul had been a snake. A liar. But this?

A fake confession, written to tie everything up with a bow, making him look like a rogue agent. Making it easy for the Bureau to bury the case and move on.

A way to clear Josh—and her.

Armani’s eyes slowly drifted from the screen…

To Josh.

He was already watching her.

Expression unreadable. Like he was waiting to see what she would do.

They held eye contact for a long moment.

Neither of them said a word.

Then, without a sound, Armani turned and walked out of the kitchen.

The Florida sun was hot against her skin as she stepped onto the patio.

The backyard was beautiful—an infinity pool that stretched toward the horizon. Peaceful.

But Armani felt anything but peace.

She walked over to the edge of the pool, sinking onto one of the lounge chairs.

Her mind was spinning.

Josh had done this. And not only was she off the hook, he was too.

If Paul’s death wrapped everything up, that meant no more case. No more heat on Josh. No more reason for them to come after her.

It was over.

Except it wasn’t.

She exhaled sharply, staring at the water. She should feel relieved.

But all she felt was trapped.

Trapped in a life she never saw coming. Trapped with a man who had built this entire world for her before she even knew she was in it.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to run anymore.

The sun had started to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the house, but Armani barely noticed.

She sat curled up on the massive sectional in the living room, the TV on in front of her—not that she was actually watching it. Her mind was too loud, too restless.

Paul was dead.

Not just dead—cleaned up. Wrapped in a nice, neat little package with a fabricated confession, ensuring that the Bureau would bury everything.

It should have been a relief.

She was free. She wasn’t being hunted, wasn’t being interrogated, wasn’t facing years of work vanishing in an instant.

And yet…

Her fingers clenched into the plush blanket draped over her lap.

She wasn’t free. Not really.

Because she was still here. In this house Josh built for her.

And the crazy part? She hadn’t even tried to leave.

A part of her wanted to say it was exhaustion, or shock, or the fact that she didn’t even know what her next move was.

But a deeper part of her knew better.

Her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of footsteps. Heavy, measured, confident.

Josh.

She didn’t look up when he walked into the room, but she felt his presence settle next to her.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then—

“Got somethin’ for you.”

She turned her head slightly, watching as he pulled something from his pocket and set it on the couch between them.

A phone.

Brand new. Sleek.

Armani stared at it for a beat before finally reaching out, picking it up. The screen was already set up—already logged in.

Her stomach twisted as she swiped through.

All her contacts. Her settings.

Like she had never even been off the grid.

She glanced up at him. “You already had this ready for me, didn’t you?”

Josh smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Course I did.”

Armani exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re not tracking it?”

Josh didn’t even try to deny it. “Yep.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable.”

Josh’s smirk deepened. “C’mon, you really think I’m lettin’ you run again?”

Armani didn’t respond.

Because, honestly? She didn’t even know if she wanted to.

Josh studied her for a moment, then reached into his pocket again. This time, he pulled out a key fob. “Key to your wagon.”

Her stomach flipped as she looked at the key, this man really got her a car.

“I don’t know how I should take all of this.”

Josh moved closer, his voice low. “Just be happy.”

She exhaled slowly before finally looking at him. “Josh, this is crazy.”

Josh’s expression didn’t change. “I know.”

She blinked, thrown off by the honesty in his voice.

He turned more towards her, closing the space between them. “I know this is crazy. I know the way I did shit wasn’t normal. But I meant what I said, Armani. You my girl, I just want you here. With me.”

Her chest ached.

“You act like I had a choice in this though,” she murmured.

Josh’s jaw ticked. “You did. And you still do.”

Armani let out a humorless laugh. “A choice?” She shook her head. “Josh, you literally got me put on a federal case just to get me here. You had Paul in your pocket. You’ve been watching me for years—”

Josh gave her a pointed look. “You keep bringing that shit up but you ain’t try to leave yet.”

Silence.

Armani swallowed hard. “It’s not that simple.”

Josh moved closer, his voice softer this time. “It is, you just don’t want to make that choice.”

She looked up at him, her emotions a tangled mess. “Josh, with everything that’s happened… I don’t even know where to start with making a choice.”

“Then don’t.”

She frowned.

Josh tilted his head. “Just let all that other shit go. Me and you can jus be together. You don’t have to worry bout shit, I got you. Just give me a real chance.”

Her heart pounded.

He wasn’t pressuring her. He wasn’t demanding anything.

He was just… waiting.

Waiting for her to stop fighting it.

She inhaled slowly.

Could she?

Could she really let it go? Let go of the way she thought her life was supposed to go?

Let go of the career that was about to toss her aside the second things got messy? The career she no longer has and that Josh made sure she know longer has to worry about.

Josh watched her, his patience unsettling.

Finally, she let out a long breath. “I need time.”

Josh nodded. “Take all the time you need.”

She studied him. “But you’re not letting me go.”

Josh smirked. “Not a chance.”

She rolled her eyes, but it lacked heat.

And for the first time since this all started…

She wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to.

A few days later the morning air was warm, the Florida sun already shining down as Armani stepped outside, her new car keys clutched in her hand. The G-Wagon sat in the driveway, gleaming under the sunlight, a physical reminder of how much her life had changed in just a matter of days.

Josh was standing by the front door, watching her with that unreadable expression of his. When she got close enough, he reached out, cupping her chin lightly before leaning in, pressing a slow kiss against her cheek.

“Be good,” he murmured, the heat of his lips lingering against her skin.

Armani stayed quiet and turned to head toward her car, only to be met with Jacob’s smirking face.

She sighed. “What?”

Jacob chuckled, arms crossed over his chest. “Nothin’.”

She shot him a glare before climbing into the driver’s seat, and Jacob followed, settling into the passenger side. As soon as she turned the ignition, the deep purr of the engine filled the quiet morning.

Josh didn’t move from his spot as she backed out of the driveway. She could still feel his eyes on her.

The car ride was quiet at first.

Armani focused on the road, gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary as the city blurred past her. Jacob sat in the passenger seat, legs spread, arms crossed, looking completely at ease—as if he wasn’t her newly assigned bodyguard, handpicked by Josh.

The weight of everything still sat heavy in her chest.

She was driving a car Josh bought her.

Living in a house Josh built for her.

Being watched by a man Josh assigned to her.

If she let herself think about it too long, it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Like she’d never be free from him. And yet… the thought of leaving him had her just as conflicted.

She exhaled sharply, glancing at Jacob. “You always this quiet?”

Jacob smirked. “You always this tense?”

Armani rolled her eyes. “You do realize this isn’t normal, right?”

Jacob chuckled, shifting slightly. “What, you don’t like havin’ a personal chauffeur?”

She gave him a flat look. “I’m the one driving.”

He shrugged. “Details.”

Armani sighed, glancing at him again. “So, what’s your story?”

Jacob raised a brow. “You don’t already know?”

“Josh didn’t give me your file, just put you on my ass.”

Jacob smirked, but there was something a little more guarded in his expression now. “Ain’t much to tell. I got out a few months ago. Been tryin’ to stay out of trouble. Josh offered me a job, and here I am.”

Armani narrowed her eyes slightly. “Got out?”

Jacob exhaled. “Prison.”

She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. The men in Josh’s circle weren’t innocent.

“You don’t seem like you regret it,” Armani observed.

Jacob’s smirk faded. “That’s ‘cause I don’t.” He paused, looking out the window. “Only thing I regret is who paid for it.”

Armani caught the flicker of pain in his expression. Family. Whatever he did, it cost him time with someone he loved.

“You have a kid?” she asked.

Jacob nodded. “Yeah. My little girl, she’s bout to be 10. Tryin’ to do right by her now.”

Armani was quiet for a moment. “And you think workin’ for Josh is ‘doin’ right’?”

Jacob chuckled, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know what y’all got goin’ on, but I know Josh don’t bring people in unless they mean somethin’ to him. You might be fightin’ it, but you his. That’s why I’m here.”

Armani didn’t respond. Because what the hell was she supposed to say?

Bianca was already waiting when Armani pulled up.

The second she stepped out, Bianca ran at her.

“Bitch, do you know how close I was to calling the damn police?” Bianca breathed, wrapping her arms around her tight.

Armani let out a breathless laugh, hugging her back. “I’m fine.”

Bianca pulled back, scanning her face. “You better be. You been dodgin’ my calls, disappearin’ on me. Then all of a sudden, I get a text sayin’ you’re okay, but no details? And now you pullin’ up in a fuckin luxury car. What the fuck is going on?”

Armani sighed. “That’s why I wanted to meet up so I can explain.”

Bianca’s gaze flickered past her, landing on Jacob.

“Uh—who the hell is that?” Bianca asked, lowering her voice.

Armani followed her gaze. Jacob leaned casually against the car, arms crossed, watching them but not getting involved.

“That,” Armani muttered, “is Josh’s doing.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow. “You got a damn bodyguard now?”

“Apparently.”

Bianca didn’t even try to hide her concern. “And you’re okay with this?”

Armani exhaled. “It’s not about what I’m okay with, Bianca. It’s just my life now.”

Bianca frowned but didn’t push—yet.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get a table before I start cussin’ you out in public.”

They were seated at an outdoor table, with Jacob at a table not too far from them. The Miami heat was still warm but manageable under the shaded patio.

Bianca wasted no time.

She sipped her mimosa, leveling Armani with a look. “So. Start talking.”

Armani sighed, swirling the straw in her drink. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How ‘bout why you got a damn bodyguard?”

Armani exhaled. “Because Josh set me up.”

Bianca froze. “Excuse me?”

Armani glanced around before leaning in. “Josh orchestrated everything. He got me put on this case on purpose.”

Bianca’s jaw dropped. “You mean—”

“Yep, he has people working for him on the inside” Armani interrupted. “He wanted me in Miami. He wanted me to come after him.”

Bianca blinked. “I—what the fuck?”

Armani let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

Bianca put her drink down. “Okay. Start from the beginning. All of it.”

Armani took a deep breath and started from the top.

She told Bianca everything.

How Josh figured out who she was after their first meeting. How he hacked into her accounts and spent years watching from a distance—waiting, planning. How he maneuvered her onto the case just to bring her back to Miami. How he built her dream house, down to every last detail. And how, through it all, he made it clear he wanted one thing—them to be together.

Bianca’s face was stuck between shock, confusion, and horror.

“You’re tellin’ me this man put together a whole ass federal case just to get you in Miami?”

Armani nodded. “Basically.”

Bianca sat back in her chair. “Bitch… this is some movie shit.”

Armani let out another dry laugh. “Trust me, I know.”

Bianca stared at her. “And you’re still here, living with him?”

Armani’s throat tightened. “I don’t—I don’t know what else to do, B. I feel like if I try to leave he’s just going to track me down again.”

Bianca’s expression softened. “Are you safe?”

Armani hesitated. “Yeah.”

Bianca didn’t seem convinced.

“I mean it,” Armani said quietly. “With everything that’s happened, I don’t feel unsafe with him.”

Bianca exhaled. “That’s insane.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence before Bianca smirked slightly. “Okay, but let’s talk about this house and car.”

Armani groaned. “Bianca—”

“Nah, bitch, don’t ‘Bianca’ me. Buying a house for someone you don’t know is crazy, making a dream house for them is crazier, and on top of that he got you a G-Wagon. What’s next, a ring?”

Armani picked up her drink and leaned back in her seat. “Hell no.”

Bianca whistled. “You sure because homeboy is whipped.”

Armani rolled her eyes. “You’re missing the point.”

Bianca smirked. “No, I’m not.” She leaned in. “You have been training for years so it might be hard but I know if anyone can get out of this shit it’s you, you not even trying to leave yet tells me you don’t want to. So why haven’t you left yet?”

Armani exhaled. “It’s not that simple.”

Bianca tilted her head. “Maybe it is. Maybe you just don’t wanna admit you want him.”

Armani didn’t respond. Because what if she was right?

Before she could respond Bianca’s phone buzzed, cutting through her thoughts. Bianca glanced down at it, grinning. “Speaking of men doing the most…”

Armani raised a brow. “What?”

Bianca smirked. “I got a date tomorrow.”

Armani raised an eyebrow. “With who?”

Bianca’s smirk widened. “His name’s Carmelo.”

Armani’s stomach dropped.

She didn’t even have to ask.

She already knew what Carmelo she was talking about and she knew this wasn’t a damn coincidence.

The house was quiet when Armani got back.

It was still strange—calling it home.

She had only been here for a few nights, but everything in this house had already been prepared for her. Every space, every detail, every small thing Josh had made sure she would like.

She still wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

But instead of dwelling on that, she focused on cooking.

Not because Josh expected her to—but because she needed to do something.

Josh had done everything for her since she got here. Bought her a car. Made sure she had everything she needed. And even though she still wasn’t sure how to feel about him, he was the reason she wasn’t out in the cold right now—or the heat.

This was the least she could do.

She was finishing up plating the food when she heard the front door open.

Her stomach tensed.

She didn’t know why she suddenly felt nervous, but when she turned and saw Josh standing there, she could tell he was thrown off.

He stood in the doorway for a second, looking between her and the food on the counter.

“You cook?”

Armani rolled her eyes, turning back to grab silverware. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Josh smirked as he walked further inside. “Shit, I am. Didn’t think you’d start actin’ like you live here yet.”

Armani didn’t respond.

Because wasn’t that the truth?

Josh washed his hands before sitting at the counter, watching her as she slid a plate in front of him. “So what’s the occasion?”

Armani sat across from him, picking at her food. “Just… felt like doing something normal.”

Josh hummed, taking a bite. “I ain’t complainin’. This good as hell.”

A small sense of satisfaction settled in her chest, but she ignored it.

For a few minutes, they just ate in silence.

Until Armani decided she needed to tell him.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

Josh glanced up at her, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Yeah?”

Armani hesitated. “It’s about Carmelo.”

Josh’s expression didn’t change. But she saw it—the small shift in his energy.

“What about him?” he asked, his voice even.

Armani exhaled. “He—” She shook her head. “He’s seeing Bianca.”

Josh didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Just sat there for a second, processing.

And then, he picked up his fork and went back to eating. “Aight.”

Armani blinked. “That’s it?”

Josh nodded. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“You don’t think it’s a little weird that of all people, he’s with my best friend?”

Josh smirked. “Oh, it’s weird. But I’ll handle it.”

Armani frowned. “What does that mean?”

Josh gave her a pointed look. “It means you don’t gotta worry bout it.”

Armani clenched her jaw but let it go—for now.

They continued eating, and for a moment, it almost felt normal.

Until Armani decided to push her luck.

“I want to go home,” she said.

Josh didn’t look up. “You are home.”

Armani sighed. “Josh, I mean D.C. My family’s worried about me. I want to see them.”

Josh finally met her gaze, studying her.

After a moment, he nodded. “Aight. Next week.”

Armani exhaled in relief. “Okay, I’ll book my flight.”

Josh scoffed. “I’ll book our flights.”

Armani’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Josh sat back in his chair. “You heard me. I’m goin’ with you.”

Armani’s chest tightened. “Josh, come on—”

“I told you already. You’re not takin’ no trips by yourself. Not ‘til I know for sure you ain’t just waitin’ for a chance to run.”

Armani’s eyes flashed. “How are we supposed to work if I can’t go anywhere by myself?”

Josh tilted his head. “You tell me.”

Armani clenched her jaw. “So I just have to prove myself to you? Like I’m being tested?”

Josh sighed, pushing his plate back. “Look, I’ll give you space with your family if you don’t want me meetin’ them yet. But I’m gonna be in D.C. with you. And that’s final.”

Armani glared at him, but Josh didn’t budge.

The rest of dinner was silent.

When they were done, Armani picked up the plates and started washing them, needing something to do with her hands.

Josh watched her for a long moment before finally speaking again.

“I ain’t do all this just for you to run again.”

Armani stiffened.

Josh leaned against the counter, his voice softer now. More serious.

“I know this ain’t how you pictured your life goin’. But don’t act like you don’t feel it too.”

Armani swallowed hard but didn’t respond.

Josh exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I ain’t tryna control you, Armani. I just—” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna lose you again.”

Armani’s throat tightened.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say.

But it wasn’t that.

Because for the first time… he didn’t sound like the man who manipulated her into a corner. He sounded like someone who didn’t know how to ask for something without taking it—but was trying.

Her heart thudded once, low and slow, deep in her chest.

And despite everything—despite how much she wanted to stay guarded—she knew she was falling for him.

Even if it scared her.

Even if it made no sense.

Hope you guys enjoyed this. Lmk what you think and if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Part Five

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