#strict!smoke

Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Cursing, Killing, Trauma

Previous : Ⅰ, Ⅱ

Stack’s arm burned from the steady rhythm — sawing, sanding, hauling, hammering — the kind of work that don’t leave your hands clean for long.

The fence line had been fighting him all afternoon but he’d finally got the fence base to settle right, but the steps were waiting on him next.

It shouldn’t have been a hard job, except the sun was working just as hard. By four, sweat had him good. His shirt was knotted— tied the same way he’d learned as a boy, watching men who never complained about heat. His real hat hanging off the porch swing. Dust caked his boots. His jeans were on their third life today, grass-stained and honest about it.

The house was quiet. Pearline left with Delilah while he was still working the gate—said she was riding down to see family which left Stack minding the house and the animals — same as always.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket, buzzing against sweat-warmed denim. He didn’t check the screen before answering.

“Stack, my nigga, where you been?” The voice burst through the speaker.

Stack set the phone down on the porch railing and put it on speaker, grabbing his hammer again. "Round the way,” he said, lining up the claw and testing the bite on a buried nail. “What’s up?”

Stack wedged the claw of the hammer under a nail, yanked. The board groaned but didn’t give. “Me and Anothny headin’ down to the track. Ain’t seen you out. You comin’ or what?”

Stack let the thought linger. Been a minute since he’d gone to the track for real — last time was fooling with his brother, racing just for fun. “Track, huh? Ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout it.”

“The crew started somethin'. Nothing crazy, just a lil fun"

“Something good,” he asked slowly, “or something that’ll have Smoke lookin’ at me sideways?”

The mah laughed. “Man, your brother a sheriff, not ya daddy.”

“Feel like both sometimes,” Stack muttered. “He already told me he ain’t savin’ me next time.”

“Man, I’d tell you the same. But nah — ain’t no mess. Just a little fun mid-week.”

“A’ight, lemme see if something shakes”. The line clicked dead.

He went back to the plank, but the last nail sat too deep for the hammer to grip. He stared at it, jaw tight, then straightened up. “Stubborn,” he muttered.

He walked toward the shed, sweat sliding down his back. He was looking for a pry bar — but his eyes landed on the crowbar Pearline had pointed out earlier.

He grabbed that instead.

“If you don’t wanna come out,” he murmured to the board on his way back, “I’ll just take the whole thing up.”

Back at the steps, he slid the crowbar under the stubborn board and eased up slow so he wouldn’t gouge the foundation. The wood creaked, and resisted before eventually giving in

“There you go", the board popped loose, and he worked it free with a firm tug. He tossed the old plank aside and reached for the new brown boards waiting on the porch. Laid them one by one, neat and straight like he liked things, then set four nails to each side — just enough to hold — and looped back around to finish them proper. His hammer thudded a steady beat and when he was done, he put his boot to the edge, testing for any wobble. Solid.

When he stepped back, a small smile tugged at his mouth. The color was a tad lighter than the house— not perfect. But it was sturdy.

He dusted his hands and reached for his bottle of hot water, that sun had turned it into tea, when a flash of familiar purple slid into view at the road. His mouth tipped up without him meaning to. He cleared off the porch path without thinking, moving the stray bucket and the crowbar so she could walk up clean.

Pearline's eyes narrowed like she needed to rub them and check the picture twice.

But the picture was right.

She killed the engine and swung her legs out. “Mighty hot out, huh?” she teased first thing.

“Maybe, just a little,” he said, voice easy.

She shut the door and came up slow, taking him in. Stack sat on the edge of the porch beside the new steps. Dark-washed jeans clung low on his hips, stained at the knees. Boots worn but strong. Bare chest smooth and broad — broader than his shirts ever suggested. Chocolate skin caught the late sun, scars tracing faint stories along his sides near his waist. He looked like a man who could carry two bales without losing breath and still laugh at somebody’s joke on the way.

“You enjoy ya' trip?” he asked before finishing his water.

Pearline caught herself before smiling too wide. “It was… nice. Heard more ‘remember when’ stories than I have in years.”

“Still can’t believe Delilah ya' cousin,” he added. “Kin come in all ways, huh?”

She laughed. “What? Me and Delilah ain’t all that different. I just flip my accent when I feel like it.”

He gave her a look. “Ain’t nobody like Delilah,” he laughed, tipping the headwrap back with two fingers. “Girl wilder than I ever been"

“And how wild is that, Elias?” She halted on the step, chin tilted.

He leaned back on his hands. “Nothin’ I can testify to right now," he grinned then paused. “Might've got into a little trouble once or twice.”

Pearline stood going back in forth in her mind whether she should push or not but Elias seemed like a person who didn't mind sharing or at least in her eyes. “You asked me where I’m from the other day,” she said, eyes on him. “But I still don’t know where you hail from...Born and raised?”

“Little bit o’ Texas in me,” he said, shoulder to the post, “but didn’t take long to find where I wanted to be.”

“You're so vague,” she shot back. “If you want me to feel safe with a man I don’t know, walking my parents’ property like it’s his," She said folding her arms “I’m gonna need more than a cowboy mystery.”

He chuckled. “Born in Cleveland,” he said, giving it plain. “Left when I was five, six for Texas ’til I got tall enough. Came back and stayed.”

“Daddy and Mama?”

“Mama still in Texas — her people down there. Daddy from here. He passed when me and my brother were nineteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head gently. “Don’t be. Daddy lived good. Built what he wanted. Left happy and somethin' to pass down"

She studied him differently after that. “So, that a family ranch?”

“Forty years runnin’.”

“Both you and your brother work it?” the next question came quick but Elias didn't mind. “Nah. Mostly me. Smoke ain’t see his life in ranch work. Went on and became the sheriff instead.”

Pearline raised a brown, “You like the work?” she asked, echoing the way he’d asked her things before.

Stack’s mouth curved. He liked the way she noticed. “I love it. Ain’t never dreamed of doing nowhere else.”

“Mmm. Ever tried?” she wondered

He shook his head. "No, ma'am"

“Then how you know you not missing out on something?” Pearline’s curiosity was soft and almost as if she was searching for an answer beyond of what she asked

He looked at her—then really looked. “I’m always gon’ miss out on something,” he said, his accent thickened just a touch, smooth as honey. “A man can’t be everywhere at once, darlin’. I just chose where and what mattered most.”

She laughed softly. “We might be opposites.”

“How so?”

“I want see everything...Might be far-fetched but every place, every book, every movie, every restaurant...every country" She sighed. “I wish I could be everywhere all the time.”

He studied her like she was something complicated. “That life get busy tryin’ to live like that.”

“It does. But I love when the experience outweighs the stress.”

Stack went quiet a beat, eyes sliding to his truck, then to the fresh lumber stacked by the rail. “You stressed?”

Pearline squinted, taken off-guard by the sudden care in his voice. She shrugged. “A little.”

“Well,” he said, standing and rolling his shoulders, “I got an experience for you.”

“Out here?” Pearline’s eyes danced. He nodded. “Where you gon’ take me that I ain’t been? I grew up here too, you know.”

“You ain’t had this,” he said, grin going a touch softer now that she was close. “You put on some pants and boots, we can head out.” He thumbed toward the front door and stepped aside to make room

“I didn’t agree ye—” She caught herself when he straightened and asked it proper.

“Excuse me, Miss Pearline,” he said, voice dropping low and warm. “Would you like to take a ride with me?”

“Will I be informed of where?” she bargained, fighting the smile.

“I could tell you,” he said, playful, “but it ain’t much of a real place.”

“Try me.” She studied him

“It’s a track, way down past Fifth and Von,” he said, giving her something to hold. “Back behind the old grain barn.”

Pearline thought it through. Far as she remembered, Fifth and Von dead-ended near that ragged repair shop, and she couldn’t pull up a grain barn in her head. “Don’t sound too safe,” she said.

“Trust me — you’ll be safe with me,” he said, and it didn’t come out boastful, it came out true. “And you’ll be even safer with your boots on.”

“And what about you?” She flicked a look over him — dust, sweat, the whole sturdy frame. “If it’s so dangerous, what you gon’ do?”

Stack dropped his gaze to his hands and laughed under his breath. “I’m tough enough, Miss Pearline. Don’t worry ’bout me. And if it gets necessary, I got something I can throw on in the back of the truck.”

Pearline held him a second longer, then shifted her weight. “Alright. I’ll be right out.”

Stack nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.” He bent, gathered the loose nails and set them in the coffee can, wiped his palms on a rag so he wouldn’t leave dust on her doorknob, and watched the screen door hush behind her. The steps he’d laid held steady when he put his boot to them again, and that made him smile once again. Good work makes for a good feeling

He took his hat off the swing and shook the dust free, eyes already on the door she’d gone through, waiting.

“This somethin’ you do often?” Pearline asked, her gaze fixed out the passenger window as the road stretched thin and brown ahead of them.

Stack cut his eyes toward her, that easy, natural grin already settling onto his face like it belonged there. “What exactly?” he said amused.

“You know…” She shrugged lightly. “Ask people out. Go to the track and all that.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Thought I was just bein’ polite, askin’ you along. ‘Specially since I’m all up and through your property most days.” He eased the truck around a bend, then glanced back at her sideways. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get to know me a little better? For safekeepin’s sake.”

She turned from the window, eyes calm but thoughtful. “You answered my questions. I feel alright now.”

He waited a beat before responding, fingers tightening just slightly on the wheel. Normally, he’da said plain and simple that he just wanted her company — no ceremony, no overthinkin’. That had always been his way. But somethin’ about Pearline made him slow down. Whether she meant to or not, she carried herself like someone who didn’t move well through unsteady ground — like you had to be careful where you set her down. Felt a little too fragile to push and play with.

“It can be a stress reliever too,” he added after a moment. “My family found the place years back, while we was doin’ things we ain’t had no business doin’.” He shrugged. “It’s away from the city. Just dirt roads, no service, no law lurkin’. We go out there to let loose. Race. Fight. Do whatever’s on our minds that night.”

Pearline glanced at him then, noddin’ slowly. Not fully convinced— but interested enough. A stress reliever sounded like exactly what she needed. “So what’s the feelin’ today?” she asked.

He smiled, eyes back on the road. “Ain’t sure yet. Guess we’ll both find out when we get there.”

“When y’all find it?”

“‘Bout fourteen, fifteen.”

Her brows knit together. “That where you know my cousin from? The track?”

“Not from the track exactly,” he said. “But ‘round that time. Give or take.”

She tilted her head. “There you go bein’ vague again.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “That somethin’ better left in the past?”

“Ain’t really my past to tell.” Stack turned his head from the road, 'she knew smoke ‘fore she ever knew me.

She let that sit. “Your brother gonna be there too?”

He glanced over at her, amused. “Miss Pearline… you always ask this many questions?”

“Give or take,” she chuckled.

“I like it when you do that,” he said after a stretch of quiet. There was somethin’ softer in his tone now. “But I ain’t sure — haven’t been comin’ ‘round much lately.”

“Like what?” she asked, still watchin’ the trees slip by.

“I like the way you talk.” He said it plain, no hesitation. “Easy on the ears.”

She smiled faintly. “You can thank teachin’ for that. Can’t have an accent that—”

“Nah,” he cut in gently, grin crooked. “Ain’t that, darlin’. Your voice just pretty.” He paused, then added quieter, “Still hear home in ya, though. That part ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Her lips pressed together, a small warmth blooming in her chest before she could stop it. “Why, thank you,” she said, accepting it even as she looked back out the window.

“My pleasure.”

The truck tires groaned as Stack eased them over the uneven stretch of dirt and gravel, the whole thing rattling beneath them before coming to a stop. Dust settled slow in the headlights. He cut the engine and stepped out almost immediately. “We here,” he announced casually, already moving around to Pearline’s side.

Pearline lingered a second, reaching down to pull her boots back on. She’d kicked them off earlier, feet aching. As soon as she finished, the passenger door opened and Stack was already reaching for her hand. She hesitated only a beat before taking it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she stepped down, boots hitting dirt. Stack closed the door behind her with a firm click. “Air sittin’ heavy,” he said, glancing up at the sky.

Pearline glanced too. The air indeed felt thick, heavy on her skin. She pulled one of her braids forward, rolling it between her fingers. “It’s humid,” she said. “Feels like it’s sticking to you.”

“Mm. Yeah. Bugs love it too.” He looked back at her. “You want a hat?”

She nodded a little fast. “Yes. Please.” That earned a small smile. “Aight.”

She followed him around to the back of the truck, keeping close without meaning to. He hopped up easily and lifted a silver lockbox bolted to the bed. Inside were a few folded shirts, a worn hunting hat, and a can of bug spray.

While Stack searched, Pearline looked around. Open land. Stretching farther than she was used to. The kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet—you could hear insects, the wind brushing against dry grass, something distant she couldn’t place yet.

Stack dropped back down beside her. “Turn ‘round for me,” he said, shaking the can.

Pearline stiffened slightly but did as told, drawing in a breath and holding it. She kept her chin tucked as he began spraying, moving around her slow, careful. She could hear the soft hiss, smell the sharp bite of it.

“Still,” he murmured when she shifted. She nodded to herself and stayed put.

When he reached to title her chin up, she jumped just a little. He noticed. “Got you,” he said, lighter now, “ain’t gon’ spray ya face.” The spray touched her neck, then her forearms again. The scent settled around her, sharp and clean, mixing with the heat in the air.

For a second, neither of them moved after. Then he stepped back. “There you go.”

Pearline opened her eyes slowly. She didn’t turn right away, not until she felt the space between them again.

When she did, he was already placing the hat on her head, adjusting it slightly—fingers brushing the edge, making sure it sat right. She touched the brim instinctively. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, watching her for a second before turning the spray on himself — quick and careless compared to how he’d treated her —then slipped on the red-and-brown button-up without bothering to close it.

Pearline waited, hands tucked into each other, unsure where to stand. She didn’t have to wait long. “This really is… the middle of nowhere,” she said, half to herself.

“Yeah.” Stack followed her line of sight. Off to the side sat a grain mill, worn and still. Just past it, the glow of a gas station light. Cornfields stretching out behind everything. “Used to be emptier than this.”

She turned back to him. “You ready?”

He raised a brow. “You askin’ me?”

She smiled shyly and nodded.

It wasn’t far — she realized that quickly — because she could hear everything before she could see it.

At first, it was just the sound of their steps—boots against dirt, brushing through patches of dry grass. Then, low engines revving, music drifting quietly and messy through the trees, cheers, the dull and heavy sound of hooves striking dirt. The closer they got, the louder it became

“Sure is a lot,” Pearline murmured, staying half a step behind him.

Stack reached into his pocket and checked his phone as they walked. “Seven o’clock,” he muttered. “Ain’t even properly started yet.”

Pearline glanced around, taking everything in. Lawn chairs formed loose circles, parked trucks sat wide open with kids perched in the beds, legs swinging while music thumped low from someone’s speakers.

“So it’s just… a cookout?” she asked, unsure.

Before he could answer, something flew past them fast enough to steal the rest of the sentence right out her mouth. A horse blasted through, hooves tearing up dirt, its rider hollering loud enough to shake the trees.

“Woo!” came a shout, followed by a woman’s voice snapping quick and sharp. “Told that motherfucker to speed up— I’m losin’ money on this.

"Smoke here" Stack smiled, he nodded toward where the horses disappeared around the bend. “Watch next time they come ‘round.”

They stood still as the horses circled again, trees blocking most of the view but not enough to miss the difference — one pulling ahead, one scrambling to keep pace.

Which one?” she asked quietly.

“The black horse,” Stack said, bending just enough to bring his voice down with hers. “Braid hangin’ forward.”

“He a racer?” she asked.

Stack shrugged, mouth tugging into a cocky half‑smile. “We do a’ight.”

She blinked. “We?”.

“Stack!”. Both their heads turned.

“C’mon,” Stack said, already moving. “Lemme introduce you.” He greeted the shorter man waiting nearby with an easy dap and a close shoulder pull. “What took you so long?” the man complained. “We already runnin’.”

“Man, it ain’t even been an hour since you called me,” Stack shot back, brushing him off.

The man scoffed and nodded toward the track. “Smoke got here before you.”

Pearline’s mouth pressed into a thin line. She glanced away briefly, guilt flickering across her face.

Stack shifted aside. “Anyways — this Pearline.”

The man’s irritation vanished instantly. “Well damn,” he said, eyes lighting up. “Pleasure to meet you, beauty.” Webby maneuvered from stack to Pearline

"Nigga I said Pearline"

Pearline smiled politely, stepping forward just a bit. She reached out her hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

The man looked down at her hand, then back up, amused. “Handshake, huh?, "You from around here?"

"Lil bit, why?"

"Just around here these what we usually give" Webby stepped closer arms starting to reach out until stack hand reached out first, "She gave you what she was comfortable with" Stack objected

"Damn," Webby stepped back, "ain't nothing but a little southern hospitality"

“She cool,” Stack said. “Don’t press her.”

“Damn, damn,” Webby laughed, stepping back. “I’m jokin’. Nice to meet you, Pearline.”

"You bettin' or ridin?' Webby asked as the three of them cut through the crowd, dust curling up around their boots on the way towards the start of the track

Stack glanced ahead first, slowly his eyes flickering over the horses and the people gathered near the rail. "Ain't sure yet," he said, "gotta scope the scene first"

Webby snorted. "Scope the scene—mean looking to see who ass is competition". He grinned wide. "Worried Smoke gon' tap that ass again?"

Stack let out a short laugh through his nose. "Now you know damn well I won last time"

"Five outta twenty don't give you braggin' rights nigga"

Stack shook his head, "Imma start talking impolite in front of the lady if you keep on." he nudged Webby with his shoulder, "And I handle mine when I need to"

Webby kaughed, sharp and loud, "Put ya money where ya mouth is. Smoke comin' back round' now"

Stack turned just as a ripple of cheers rolled through the crowd. "Ayy, Smoke" Webby called

"This nigga bouta' start something, Stack muttered under his breathe he turned fully. Pearline turned too, curiosity wanting to put a face to the name. Her eyes stunned, moving back and firth between the two men- Stack, then Smoke, then Stack again. Identical. Same face, same build it looked like. Only visible difference being the clothes they wore

"You seen what I just did" Smoke smiled upon seeing his brother as he descended from his horse. "Nigga couldn't even do two laps talking all that shit" he bragged stepping up as Stack did, embracing in a hug with his brother.

"Somebody else talking shit" Webby, egged shamelessly pointing at stack with a grin etched on his face.

Smoked eyebrows raised "You tryna get this shit too" he spoke calm, tugging on the riegn to pull his horse closer.

"Don't yo old ass got a shift to cover" Stack trash talked, blowing him off as well

"I wanna see it" Pearline tugged at the end of Stack shirt making him turn back "I'll be my first time new experience". Stack grew a smirk at Pearline way of words, "I though you seen every thing"

"I stand corrected" She admitted easily

"And might this be" Smoke asked walking up closer

"Ahh that's Miss Pearline" Webby answered for her

Smoke tunred his head a little, the name flicking a light, "Mr and Ms May, Pearline? he asked

"Much obliged" she answered

"Nice to finally put a name to the face. Ya daddy talks about you an awful lot" he tipped his hat, letting her in on a secret

"He still does I see" She sent a small smile

"How he doing by the way, I aint seen him come down to the office lately"

"My daddy be at the sherif office?"

"Yea, used to come pretty often, took a liken to blue," He pat the tall horse on the side, "then just started coming for coffee and talks. Nothing to be worried about" Elijah assured her

"Thank God but he's been doing his best from what mama tells me. He's in the hospital right now but looks like he shouldn't stay too much longer"

"Aww that awfully unfortunate, I send him my prayers, Annie does as well"

"Thank you. I'll make sure to call and tell her" She smiled, thankful for the thoughts and prayers.

"Ight now you ridin' or what" Webby cut in

Pearline let go of his shirt, in a way pushing him to go and find a horse to saddle onto. He saw and chucked at her, already moving towards the horses that stood lined up, some getting feed carrots and apples

"Where yo hourse at" Stack asked Webby.

"You aint ride with yours?"

"It look like I could ride my horse down here? Where ya damn horse at"

"She ain't rode yet today so just warning ya if she not warmed up. She by the first bench," he pointed over as stack turned to where his finger pointed

"Yall got money on it" Webby askes Smoke as Stack walked away.

"One day, Imma put you in a cell for illegal gambling, don't be trying commit crimes in front of me"

"Everybody round here family who gone snitch, now you want in or not" He held up his hat that he put money in first

Smoke shook his head as he maneuvered back toward his horse, moving with practiced ease as he swung himself up into the saddle. The black horse stood steady beneath him, solid as a tank. Its coat gleamed in the fallen sun—deep black threaded with warm brown, the kind of sheen that looked brushed in careful strokes. Its tail hung long and wavy, trimmed clean, hooves shining like they’d just been worked on. The mane flowed freely down its neck, except for two neat braids laid gently forward along its face.

Pearline watched, quiet curiosity pulling her closer. “Is that… a childhood horse?” she asked, while Webby worked his way through the crowd, passing the hat around again.

Smoke glanced down at her, a hint of pride crossing his face. “Childhood horse turned police horse,” he said.

Her eyes widened a little. “He’s big,” she breathed. “Can I touch him?”

“Yeah,” Smoke said, nodding toward the horse’s side. “Just don’t get too close to the stomach or back, sensitive right there"

Pearline stepped forward carefully, reaching out and laying her hand near its neck. The coat was just as soft as it looked. She smiled without meaning to. “It’s been ages since I actually touched a horse.”

“Don’t see much of that in Jackson?” Smoke asked.

“Life doesn’t really call for it,” she said lightly. “Not much a teacher can do to run into a horse and pet it.”

Smoke leaned down slightly, crossing his arms at the top of the saddle, his posture easing. “You know… if your parents ever need anything, you can call the department,” he said after a pause. “I’ve spent a good amount of time with Mr. May these past few years. It’s… hurtful, seein’ the cancer come back.”

Pearline’s smile faded, eyes dimming just a touch at the sympathy, even though no one had been lost yet.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “It hurts when I think too hard on it. Mama says Daddy’s tryin’ to keep strong. He won’t say much about the treatment—stubborn like that.”

Smoke smiled knowingly. “I'm familiar with that stubborn.”

Pearline let out a small laugh. “Right? I’ve been tryin’ not to blow up that hospital phone, askin’ for the room number every five minutes.” She glanced down at her hand still resting on the horse. “But really… thank you. It means a lot knowin’ Mama and Daddy weren’t just livin’ out here alone.”

“I know,” Smoke said. Then his gaze shifted, landing on Stack as he mounted his horse farther down the line. “And my brother—if he gives you any trouble, you can always call me.”

Pearline followed his look, watching Stack for a moment before turning back. “Why?” she asked honestly. “He’s been a good guest, far as I can tell.”

Smoke’s expression faltered—confusion and surprise flickering across his face. He nodded slowly, choosing not to answer, letting the question hang where it was.

"The hat coming around one more time, you in" Webby announced circling around Smoke

Smoke leaned back up shaking his head before pushing the reigns and leaving the area, 'He gone wish he did it" Webby mumbled. "I want to" Pearline said unsurely making Webby glance up, smile showing on his face.

"Oh city girl, you in?" he teased placing the hat in front of her. Pearline smirked at the nickname, before placing 5 dollars in the hat

"I see first time, better to be a little cautious"

"How high are the stacks?".

"Between these two? He motioned between the twins as they circled at the beginning of the track people magically crowding them as each second passes. "High as hell.

"How it's high if stack only won 5 out of 20 times"

"That's when money was not on the plate. What Stack said earlier he was right about. Must be something about losing money that Stack just don't like" Webby shrugged

"How long has this been going on" Pearline pointed around

"Before I got here"

"You wasn't born here?"

Webby shook his head, "Good ole Birmingham, Alabama is my birthing place. Came down here on a job offer 5 years an ago"

"Really? What you do?"

"Believe it or not stack himself sent for me. Offered me a job as wrangler, been here ever since" he explained

The crowd had thickened without Pearline noticing.

One minute she was listening to Webby talk, nodding along, trying to follow his words—and the next, her attention slipped right out from under her, tugged somewhere else entirely.

Stack.

He was already looking at her.

Not in some loud, showy way either. Just… steady. Like he’d been waiting for the moment her eyes found his . The moonlight began to shine low around the track, voices blurred together, but that look cut straight through it all. Then he did it—nothing big or obvious but a small tilt of his chin, barely there.

Come here.

Pearline hesitated.

Her fingers curled at her sides, heart skipping for reasons she didn’t have words for. She glanced at Webby, who was already half-turned away, phone at his ear, conversation forgotten. So she took a breath and moved, slipping through the crowd careful-like, watching her steps over roots and dry branches, the ground uneven under her shoes.

Stack didn’t look away once.

The closer she got, the quieter everything felt. His horse shifted under him, leather creaking soft, the late sun catching the dust on his boots. When she stopped in front of him, he was smiling or more so smirking.

“Ms. Pearline,” he said, slow drawl curling easy around her name. “You gettin’ real acquainted real fast, ain’t you?”

She shrugged, a little bashful despite herself, eyes dipping before lifting back to his. “Just… gettin’ familiar,” she said. “Is that a problem?”

He studied her like he was tryin’ to place a feeling he hadn’t planned on. His gaze flicked past her briefly—Webby still distracted—then came back, warm and curious.

“Nah,” Stack murmured. “Just makin’ sure I ain’t missin’ nothin’.” Before she could ask what that meant, he reached up and took off his hat.

Pearline barely had time to react before he settled it gently on her head, fingers brushing her hair by accident—or maybe not. The brim dipped low, just enough that she had to tilt her chin up to see him clearly.

His voice dropped, softer now. “Keep that safe for me, yeah?”. Then, just as easy, he pulled back, gathering the reins. “I’ll be right back.” The horse stepped away, moving toward Smoke’s, hooves crunching against dirt.

Pearline stood there a second longer than she meant to, heart thudding. She lifted her hands to the hat, fingertips brushing the brim. It was soft. Worn in. Like it had stories tucked into the creases.

It reminded her of her daddy—how he used to collect hats, even the ones folk said didn’t look like much. Except for some reason he said they were, often said the more things looked worn the happier the person was about it.

A sudden truck horn blared, sharp and loud. Pearline jumped just as two horses tore past, close enough that the wind from them brushed her face.

“Whoa—back up, girl,” Webby called, grabbing her arm gently and steering her farther off the track. “You gotta watch where you standin’.”

She nodded, breath uneven, clutching the hat tighter. Around her, the crowd shifted. Aunties climbed outta lawn chairs, uncles dropped grill tongs where they stood, kids got pulled back with firm hands. Whatever this race was, it mattered.

"I got money on you nigga" Webby yelled into the air stress already crowing his face despite the race just starting.

Pearline turned back toward the track just as the horses burst free of the trees, reappearing in full view of the crowd. Dust still hung thick in the air from the start, swirling and glowing in the afternoon light, but enough had settled for her to make out the shapes clearly now.

Smoke was out front.

He was folded low over the saddle, chest nearly brushing the horse’s neck, his posture tight and controlled. Both hands were locked hard around the reins, knuckles white, his face carved into focus. For a horse that big, Smoke’s stallion moved unnaturally fast—long, powerful strides eating up ground like it was nothing.

Not far behind him—maybe a foot, maybe less—was Stack.

He sat steadier, looser somehow. One hand held the reins in a lazy loop, the other free, adjusting when he needed. There was a grin on his face, but it didn’t fool anyone. His brow was creased, eyes sharp, reading every movement ahead of him as he shifted his horse just enough to stay clean in Smoke’s wake.

They hit the turn, and the energy changed.

Smoke cut tight toward the inside, forcing Stack to hesitate—just for a heartbeat—to reposition.

“Damn it, Stack! What the hell you doin’?” Webby shouted, catching it immediately. “Lean into it—you too stiff!”

Smoke glanced back for half a second, watching his brother fight the turn. Maybe he thought about stretching the lead. Maybe he thought about teasing him. Whatever it was didn’t last.

Smoke drove his heel into the horse’s side, and the stallion surged forward like he’d been waiting for it.

But then—white. Pearline saw it at the same time Smoke did. First the nose. Then the snout. Then the full bobbing head, closing the gap with every stride.

Smoke’s stern focus cracked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “That’s what the hell I’m talkin’ ’bout!” Webby hollered, voice cracking with excitement. “Just hold her steady—she’ll get you there!”

Pearline didn’t know the mechanics of racing, not really. She knew horses. She knew the Southern love of it. But watching this—watching how Stack shifted his weight, how his body and the horse’s movement became one—she understood something new.

This wasn’t just about the animal. It was about the rider.

Stack moved forward in the saddle, posture changing completely. His once‑relaxed frame leaned in, eyes locked straight ahead like the rest of the world had narrowed down to one point. Horse and rider tunneled together, driving hard for the finish.

“Shit,” someone muttered nearby. “I just bet two hundred—Marley ’bout to beat my ass.”

“Y’all should’ve known better,” Webby shot back, loud and proud. “Quit wishin’ losses on my boy.”

Pearline glanced around, smiling at the chaos. The shouting, the laughter, kids darting through the background. It was rowdy, sure but not club‑rowdy and she took liken to it

She turned back just in time. Stack blew past the finish, Smoke right on his heels—but not close enough to argue it.

Webby was already laughing before the horses even slowed, slapping his thigh as he started toward the track. “I’m takin’ yo ass on the road,” he called out. “I’m tellin’ you, boy.”

Pearline followed behind him, taking it all in. Stack was still mounted, easing his horse down, the white stallion tossing his head like he knew exactly what he’d just done. Stack’s grin was wide—wider than she’d seen yet—and Smoke wasn’t far behind him, breath heavy, adrenaline still burning through his veins.

“You finally learn some new tricks,” Smoke said as he pulled up alongside him, voice rough, “or somebody light a fire under you?”

Stack let out a short laugh, turning his horse back toward the start. “You thought your ass was untouchable. That’s the problem.”

Smoke shook his head, eyes narrowing like he’d clocked something he’d been watching for. “I see you, lil’ ass. Don’t think you slick.”

Stack didn’t answer. He guided the horse forward, heading toward Pearline—but Webby stepped in first, pointing at the hat perched on his head.

“You done made me some money.”

“Over five?” Stack asked, still riding high.

“Maybe 7” Webby said. “Folks thought Smoke was gone put fire to yo like last time.”

Stack waved it off. “Keep it.”

He swung down from the saddle, boots hitting dirt, and immediately reached up to pat the stallion’s neck. “She need some water.” His voice softened just a notch before he turned toward Pearline.

“Well,” she said, stepping closer, eyes bright, “that was… interesting. I didn’t know you raced.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing, but the confidence hadn’t quite settled yet. “From time to time. Only with my brother, though.” He nodded back toward Smoke.

“And what’s this score I keep hearin’ about?” Pearline asked, fingers getting ready to give the hat back to Stack “And why they say you down?”

“You hear wrong.” He caught her wrist gently and set the hat back in place, palm lingering just a second longer than necessary. “I win when I want to.” The smirk finally showed.

She tilted her head. “So what made you want to win today?”

Stack paused, like he was thinking up something clever—but then he shrugged again. “New face. Can’t make a bad impression.”

He tipped the hat lower, bringing it just close enough to shadow her eyes. Pearline smiled. “Aw. I’m worth makin’ a good impression over?”

He looked at her for a beat, then nodded once. “Gotta brag on somethin’.”

HI!! Hi, I'm not gone say I'm back I was just able to write without feeling convicted about it but just in case because my stories will have violence, kissing, and other sins in it. Every story will have a disclaimer on each chapter because again my worst fear is to lead someone astray due to my writing.

Pairing : Elijah Moore x Writer! Reader Warnings: angst, mentions of death, lotss of crying and feels, therapy, broken marriage. (We gone see light soon trust me)

"I'm still that man for you," he asked—quietly, almost afraid as if there could be more than one answer.

Ryan hands twitched. Her body spoke more then her words ever coule. She still refused to look up.

Because what was she supposed to say?

Was the most important thing to ease his mind? To reassure him that she would never want another man, even if it meant lying to him—and herself? Or was she supposed to make the moment even more unbearable by telling the truth, knowing that lies had never done either of them any good?

Just as Ryan's body language spoke for itself, the silence did the same. But Elijah refused to step back.

He gave her room all this time. Too much room and that lead them nowhere.

Stepping back would bring more uncertainty than already stood between them in the little gaps.

"You were never the same man every time you came back"

Her voice cracked shaking her head as she admired the man resting in her palm, the picture capturing every part of him that she remembers.

"Every time you came back, that will...than desire for happiness...it was gone."

Finally, Ryan tore her eyes away from the book

"You left me, Eljah, with a hope. Hope that you could make something of yourself. Hope that one day you would become someone I'd be proud to call my husband. You remember telling me that?"

Her throat tighented

"Every time you called, every time you slept in our bed during those three days you could catch a break of all that war and killing and chaos...I never got back the full you.

That man," she pointed down at the book, "I never got to see after that day"

Elijah jaw tightned but he said nothing

"But I accepted because I love you"

"Because growing up in this world I don't expect my life to be peaches and cream. I know the realities of how I grew up. So every time you would come back, I tried my best to mend whatever had been broken while you were away.

Ryan swallowed.

"Every time you touched on our doorstep I refused to talk to you about those places. Because those places didn't belong in our home..."

The air between them didn't become or suffocating but rather a feeling of uncharted territory.

Not once did Ryan have a clue or wanted to have a clue about what Elijah and his brother did overseas. She kept that door closed and locked because she didn't want the version of Elijah whose mind was still trapped in Yemen. She didn't want to acknowledge the hollow places that had begun appearing inside him

Yet as she spoke that voice happened again except this time it was't anger or frustration curing over her shoulder. It was Mandy. It spoke loud and clear.

A wife who wanted her man to wear a false face. To smile despite the hollowness within himself

Ryan paused, her breathe gripping her lungs as the words swirled around in her head. Ryan looked to Elijah eyes and saw many things.

For years she had convinced herself she was protecting their home. Protecting their peace. Protecting whatever fragile happiness they managed to build between deployments, late-night calls, and months of waiting

But what if...

What if what Elijah needed was those conversations she kept avoiding? Those difficult nights when his eyes looked distance and tired. What if those three days at home had been spent pretending neither of them noticed the weight he carried?

What is he had been searching for a shoulder to cry on without ever saying the words?

"I never meant to bring that to our home." Elijah said quietly. His voice pulling her back to the present. " I never meant to create more unhappiness than I already did"

Next Thursday

"Hello. Come on in. Make yourself comfortable".

Mandy stepped aside to let them enter before guiding then towards the couch. A cup of hot tea resting comfortably in her hand.

"I just so happened to brew a fresh pot. Let me know if either of you would like some"

"Morning" Sanie greeted.

Elijah nodded politely as the couple took their places, sitting on the edge of their seats, literally

"We seem to be a little antsy, no?" Mandy observed lowering herself into her seat as well.

"How this week been? More importantly, how has the homework been?

Sani let out a dry laugh, her eyes flickering over at Elijah who seemed content this morning and currently, beofre returning back to Mandy.

"I want to say it's been good, but I honestly, haven't or we haven't really learned how to monitor it or what is considered progress".

"That's normal," Mandy assured. "This isn't something you measure with a checklist. Most of the time you'll recognize progress when you start feeling it. For now, I'll be the one monitoring it."

Sani nodded and finally leaned back into the couch.

A little.

Only a little.

Mandy shifted her attention.

"And Elijah, how about yourself? I see your a little more at eased compared to last week"

Elijah reached for the water bottle sitting on the table. "I had a panic attack last week, three days after our session.

"The first one in a while or first ever ?"

"Three or four months, give or take"

"3 to 4 months? You take medication for it?" she questioned and Elijah shook his head. Mandy observed him, looking monetarily down to write before she went right back to him. She looked and looked until she herself understood.

Shame had a way of reducing adults into children, making them fold inward as they admitted vulnerabilities they wished didn't exist, espiaclly men

A man sharing a phobia, a trauma, or like Elijah said a disorder. However, when she observed Elijah, she didn't see a child but nor a man, she saw more of a face. Like someone was pulling back a sheet one inch at a time, slowly revealing pieces of a man who had spent years making sure nobody looked too closely.

"What triggered it?" Mandy asked. "Work stress? Childhood trauma? Something we've discussed here

"I was going through old belongings trying to fill my time and I came across some stuff from high school. He stared straight ahead. "Old school radios, clothes, my brother's flag.

Usually, it starts with hand tremors and shortness of breath but this time I felt like I couldn't get air at all and my body was weak, I could barely hold myself up"

Elijah paused moving his line of vision from straight in front of him to Sani then Mandy. "I felt guilty for my brother's death" he spoke bluntly

Sani stopped moving and Mandy's pen just for a moment stopped tapping her leg yet neither woman rushed to tell him it wasn't his fault.

Mandy had learned long ago that guilt didn't disappear because someone challenged it

Mady nodded, herself trying to take the best route to understand that guilt. "I understand your brother was still alive when you returned home after Brooklyn's passing."

"Correct" He nodded

"Instead of asking about how he died..." Mandy folded her hands together. "Can I ask about " She silently prayed the request wouldn't be denied because something, just the smallest bit of intuition tells her this guilt can be found way before his death.

Elijah took his eyes to the ceiling of the room, both Sani and Mandy could visibly see him thinking.

Always thinking, analyzing, deciding pro and cons, benefts and risks, reasons. In no time though Elijah returned his gaze, "Yeah we can" he shuffled in his seat

Mandy smiled softly "What was his name?

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Elijah's mouth "Elias"

"Hmm, twins?

"Guessed it from the name" Elijah let out a dry chuckle

Mandy tapped the pen against her head smiling as well, "Was he younger?"

"Three minutes"

"That three minutes make a difference?"

A smile tugged at Sani, she knew she wasn't the most observant or tuned into body language, but she was trying her best at the moment. Her first look into Elijah's mind about his brother.

Sure, people could say she knew him herself. If that only included eating lunch with him daily, riding with him on the bus to school, working with him at the movie theater for two months before he got fired but that was different from what Elijah experienced with his brother.

"I'm not sure if it's science, God, or one of those nature-versus-nurture arguments," he said. "But Elias and I couldn't have been more different."

"Not uncommon, freternal tw—

"Identical," Sani corrected

"A little less uncommon, then," Mandy said with a smile, "But I digress. Differentiation between twins happens naturally. How natural were yours?'

Elijah leaned back slightly

"Me and Elias ain't grow up in the best circumstances. Our mother died birthing Elias, our father was a drunk.

The room quieted a touched. "We grew up " He paused "..not much got better until our Father died"

Mandy's expression softened "..Until your father died? Care to talk about that a little more

Sani eyed nearly bulged out of her head.

Slowly, she scooted closer to Elijah and tapped his hand that laid flat against he cushion, "you want some water?" she pointed toward his that sat back on the table

Elijah looked down at her hand and then up at her face.

For a second, calmness washed over him.

The conversation had started feeling familiar in all the wrong ways. Too many questions. Too much focus. It reminded him of sitting across tables at the base, being questioned, evaluated, analyzed. He could feel himself slipping back into that stone-faced poker expression he wore whenever he wanted to disappear behind a wall.

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Arms going weak after being stiff for most of the session, then letting just a slither of his teeth show to deny the water,

"No, thank you" he said before going back to Mandy.

"He abused us. Mostly Elias but I tried, you know...take his punishment like a big brother supposed to but sometimes it ain't work and...but we dealt with that'

Mandy nodded thoughtfully

"Seems like being the big brother had less to do with being born a couple minutes earlier and more to do with taking on that protective responsibility at an early age, don't you think?"

Elijah considered the question

In his mind, it wasn't nearly that complicated. He wanted to protect his family and he happened to be the older brother. The two had always gone hand in hand in his mind

"I just did what I could to protect my family"

Mandy nodded taking it in, but as soon as one question rested another one was given birth too, But there were only so many doors that could be opened during a single session. Questions, and she wasn't entirely sure the third session was the place to dig into every puddle of blame, sacrifice, and co-dependency she was beginning to notice.

"And when did your father die?"

'Around ten" was all the explanation Elijah offered. It wasn't deflective but a simple as it was it let Mandy know a road was still being worked on before she could cross it

Noted—Leave Father's Death Alone For Now

"We got put into the system after we stopped showing up for school," Elijah continued with a shrug. "Got separated for a while, while they looked for foster homes, but we always ended up back together."

"Eventually we returned to school, got jobs, ran away a couple of more times until we graduated and went off to training"

"That sounds like a lot of just you and him" she noticed as Elijah agreed. "It was"

"When did you met Sani during all of that chaos and finding your way"

It was like the question opened a time portal because suddenly, the years between then and now vanished. The memory stood clear as running water.

A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it.

"I first saw her late one night when she was working at Church's, but we really met and exchanged names during our senior year."

'Highschool sweethearts, that's nice. Not many people make it through all those years and still want to find a way to love each other again. With time comes hardship but perseverance can help you in the long run.

"Thank you" Sani said inwardly smiling.

Mandy let the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward slightly. "I asked how y'all met, but to get a little more in-depth..."

Her eyes moved between them. "What brought you two together?"

"Oh..." Elijah looked toward Sani who sat comfortable in the cushion.

"I see you don;t want to tell her, huh?" he said teasingly as Sani shamelessly shook her head.

“Oh, but I would love to know,” Mandy probed, feeling the sunken energy in the room shift into something more humor-filled.

“I may have been the first one to say hi and all that, but shorty was the first to start catching heart eyes,” Elijah said, a grin spreading across his lips. Sani chuckled. “We didn’t have any classes together except for AP Math, and she took that as the perfect time to try and talk to me.

"Then one day, I saw her at my lunch. I knew she didn’t have my lunch period, but she came looking for me again. Ever since that day, she started skipping gym, and I started taking her home, picking her up, and doing her homework.”

“That’s actually the opposite. I was doing your homework,” Sani finally said.

"Yeah, ight" Elijah waved her off

Mandy smiled. “Seems like it worked out smoothly. Did you ever officially ask her out, or did the pieces just fit together so well that you didn’t feel the need to?”

Sani was the first to shake her head

Elijah took a breath. “We agreed that our situation at home — or really, in the streets — wasn’t the best place to become official. I honestly wasn’t showing up to school that much my senior year, and running around trying to find money and a bed to sleep in made it harder. So, we did what we did without the title, but that didn’t mean I loved or respected her any less.”

"Yall—the both of you agreed?"

"Well," Elijah started, glancing over at Sani, "Sani told me that we shouldn't because she felt like a title came with more accountability than I was willing to accept at that time. Plus, with us leaving in the next few months...'" He paused, "I guess she tried to make the blow hurt less we didn't ever make it"

Many nodded moving from Elijah to Sani, "Does that sound close to your reasoning?"

"About" Sani titled her hand back and forth in a so-so motion.

"I knew that if we were to make it official that my expectations would've gone up, my needs would've too. Also thought it wasn't hard to see that Elijah was basically taking care of his brother and working damn near full time, and they already made it up in their minds that they were enlisting. I knew my heart and if we didn't make it, like he said— It would have been my biggest heartbreak and I would've hated him"

"What made you stay even without the title?" Mady wondered

"He made a promise that in five years, he would marry me," Sani said matter-of-factly

"And he did?"

"In four actually"

Mandy's brows lifted slightly. "How was the marriage then?"

Elijah eased to speak first but Sani stopped him. "I missed him," she admitted. "And I wished that those 4 years were enough"

"But they weren't..." Mandy mumbled

Sani bit her bottom lip, having a hard even admitting this. It felt wrong in a way and in her heart to say that when she herself knew he had given so much to her and his brother, but the truth was that she still didn't feel adequate. She felt like she was always trailing behind when it came to the Navy and Elias

"Why did you enlist again

"I wasn't done with my first contract when I proposed' He explained, "but I knew I was going on a long mission around the time my promise was to be kept so I came back, married her, bought our house, and went back to base"

"So you did everything you promised and went back— and when was your contract up?"

"ln 2016".

"And did you enlist again?"

"Yes, you did" Sani answered for him"

"Why" Many asked simply

"My brother"

"You didn't want him by himself" she strived towards a reasoning

Elijah kept quiet for a moment, his eyes balancing between Sani in the corner of the couch and Mandy who eyes flamed of determination

"I was uncomfortable with him being oversees by himself. I went where he went" He stated almost like he didn't want any back talk or uncertainly to be made about his reasons because Elijah in fact went to the navy because of his brother and stayed in the navy because of his brother

'He needed your protection" Mandy asked but also as a statement

Elijah heard Mandy but upon hearing that his mind buzzed somewhere else. Somewhere where Eliase sat in bed with this wife beater and dirty drawer on, shriveled up in a corner of a closet trying his best to stay quiet.

He did need my protection. Elijah thoughts repeated. He needed me

Elijah’s head lifted toward the ceiling, his mindlessly shaking head betraying what his mouth had not yet admitted.

“Yeah...” he breathed. “He needed me. And I wasn’t there.”

Sani’s breath hitched at the tremble in his voice. It visibly looked like Elijah was trying to climb over a barrier in his own mind

“Every day of my life, since I was able to put sentences together, there wasn’t a day that Elias didn’t need me — and not a day that I didn’t need him. Yeah, I was the one protecting him from beatings, from getting arrested, from all that stupid shit, but he kept me sane. I don’t think I would’ve made it past sixteen without him.”

"Sane— in what way?"

"....in every way" He said truthfully

"Ain't nobody ever in my life made shit easy for me but at least with Elias I had a reason to not stay where I was. I was ok with selling drugs, hopping from home to him becase i made ends meet regardles but him. He knew he more for himelf and it may have been int he wrong ways sometime but he tried.

"As in?"

"To put it plainly If Elias wouldn't have wanted go to school then it was a done deal and then I think I wouldn't have met Sani either. None of this shit that I got right now would even be in my possession"

"I see—you have a deep gratitude but also a deep guilt you feel towards your brother" Mandy started as she looked over to Sani who already was wiping her tears.

"You even think you owe Sani to him, and I imagine with that death it pulled you in someways that you've never faced before—possibly differently than your daughter's death has".

Elijah let out a humorless chuckle as he kept replaying image after image and memory after memory of the two. Imagining how they would've interacted with each other. Or once they got to meet in person if Brooklyn would have been confused on which one was her daddy. Those birthdays they were supposed to be able to spend together.

"Imagine thinking you were finally dealt a good hand in life. Thinking being happy was just within your reach, then this shit happen to you".

He finally looked down.

His eyes colored a bloodshot red, yet no tears made it down his face.

"I only got three people in the world that I loved to the death of me, and 2 are gone. My flesh and blood just gone".

Sani's lips trembled looking at Elijah unfold in front of her. It seemed as if time slowed for her, she took in his words deeply because what man could withstand a life of lost promise, hurt, betrayal...death and still make an effort to provide for his wife? But better yet what women could sit and silently watch her husband become a shell of what he used to be?

Elijah made an effort to be present. He was a man who didn't allow doubt nor worry to come in between him and those he loved. He protected like he was a one-man army against anyone.

But when death happens and he was so far away it stole from what he thought his values and purpose was. He stopped calling and only began monitoring, when late-night checks in became safety calls, and love became orders and appointments, everything fell off right along with him— including Sani.

What space allowed her to be the bubbly and cheerful women he knew when her family was shattered? What was supposed to make her crave her husband and his intimacy when Elijah treated her like a fragile China doll that needed not to be taken care of but needed to be put up and watched?

One domino fell after the other.

But was it either of their faults?

Elijah, I won’t speak too deeply on male roles or expectations, but I will say this as a person— you are not expected to be indestructible. You are not expected to hide what hurts you. A hurting heart helps no one, especially the person carrying it.”

He stayed as still as a statue while she spoke as if any words coming towards him could be used as a trigger for the damn that was already leaking

"Your brother" he sighed from herself feeling the shadow that was casted over him.

"...from what I can tell in the two session we have had was not just a sibling but someone that gave you a reason and hope to live. And with death whether you believe he has gone to a better place or just simply ceased to exist, it's going to hurt and my professional advice is to let it."

"Even me in this profession and all these degrees hung up, can't tell you when it will stop hurting nor when you will find a brighter side to look at it from but know life did not stop when he nor your daughter died because as you've said it yourself there's still someone here that you love to death"

"And as you do not move on but as you cope, I hope you can dig deeper to things you've haven't admitted yet or told me about that make this all the harder to come to terms with but as for where we are right now, I ask as your homework for the week to learn about each other" A hopeful smile etched onto her face as she faced Sani

"Both the good and bad and especially hurt. Grief is something that is so complex that a broken heart can be a cause of death. Not to scare you or anything but I won't ignore what was said here today"

Mandy set her padbook aside

"Again, I'm very sorry for your lose"