11.1 anthony's angel
Angel’s bubble with Anthony is shattered as harsh realities resurface, forcing her to lean on his unwavering support and the strength of his chosen family.
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ANGELINA ‘ANGEL’ MOORE
The sharp buzz of my phone on the sink yanked me out of the blissful rhythm of my morning skincare routine. That buzz was rude, jarring, and I had half a mind to ignore it since it wasn’t the ringtone I’d set for the hospital. My beauty ritual had become a simple thing that helped me to feel normal lately. It was something small, something just for me, and I’d grown to love it. Each step was a little pocket of peace in my otherwise chaotic life—cleansing, toning, moisturizing, taking time to care for myself in ways I hadn’t before.
I smiled faintly as I worked the serum into my skin, my fingers gliding over products I’d never thought I’d be able to afford. They’d been sitting in my online cart forever—luxuries I could only window-shop for on my phone when Derek went to bed at night. But Anthony had caught me scrolling one evening while we were on the couch, my face lit up by the glow of the screen, and before I knew it, he was asking me to send him the links.
I didn’t even believe he was serious at first. “Send you the links? For what?”
“For whatever’s in that cart you keep staring at.” He didn’t look up from his phone when he said it, like buying me those things wasn’t a big deal. Like it was nothing at all to him.
And just like that, two days later, they were at the door.
Now, every time I smoothed that ridiculously expensive moisturizer over my face or patted on toner that smelled like a garden in spring, I thought of him. Not because of the products themselves, but because of what they represented—someone seeing me. Really seeing me.
But the phone on the sink buzzed again, ripping me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, the familiar number making my stomach twist.
I sighed, dropping the serum onto the counter as I almost wiped my hands on the hem of my matching shorts set before using my towel instead. Half my wardrobe had been replaced without me even realizing it. A package here, a shopping bag there. If Anthony saw me look at something for too long—whether online or in person—it somehow always found its way to me.
I didn’t even sleep in my old clothes anymore. Most nights, it was one of his oversized shirts and a pair of his boxers. He said they looked better on me anyway.
By the time I reached for the phone, its buzz was more annoying than urgent.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Oh, so now you wanna answer your phone?”
Aunt Lina’s voice blasted through the speaker like a slap to the face. Sharp. Grating. I winced, holding the phone slightly away from my ear as though that might soften the blow.
“Aunt—”
“After all I’ve done for you, letting you live in my trailer when you had no place to go with that baby, you just stop paying rent?” Her voice rose with each word, the anger spilling out like venom. “Folks saying they haven’t even seen you here—just coming by every now and then in some fancy truck to grab a bag and go. Well, bitch, since you don’t wanna give me my money, you gotta go!”
My stomach dropped.
Rent.
God, my rent.
The reality hit me in jagged shards, each one sharper than the last. I hadn’t worked—hadn’t cleaned a single house—since the day before the toy drive. Not one.
DJ’s face, pale and fragile beneath the fluorescent hospital lights, flashed in my mind. Everything since that night had been about him. Just about waking moment spent at his bedside, every decision revolving around his care. And here I was, my life propped up on Anthony’s shoulders, while my own responsibilities crumbled beneath me.
My hand flew to my chest, pressing down like it might somehow keep the guilt from clawing its way out of me. It didn’t help.
How could I let it get this bad?
“I’ve never been late before,” I started, my voice shaky, desperate to explain. “I—”
But Aunt Lina wasn’t interested in hearing me out.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls! Acting like you’re too good to answer your damn phone!”
“I didn’t have a phone!” I blurted, the words tripping over themselves, desperate and messy. “I just got a new one,” I added, my voice quieter now, almost like I was trying to convince myself that it mattered.
Anthony had replaced my phone after he caught me crying—full-on sobbing—over losing everything. Pictures of DJ growing up, videos of his tiny giggles, his first wobbly steps, his proud grin at the toy drive in his thrifted Knicks outfit. Every little piece of his life, of our life, gone in the wreckage.
Anthony didn’t say much that night, just sat next to me on the couch and rubbed slow circles into my back. The next day, without a word, he drove me straight to my carrier and got me a brand-new iPhone.
I remember the guy at the store shaking his head, apologizing, saying there was no way to recover the lost photos and videos. But Anthony just said, “I know a guy,” like it was nothing. And the next day? Everything was back. Every picture. Every video. Like it had never been gone.
I’d had the phone maybe a week now.
And I hadn’t seen a single missed call from Aunt Lina. Not one.
“Well, looks like you have a phone now, little bitch.” Her tone was bitter, triumphant even, and it made my skin crawl. “And good thing too, ’cause all your shit is outside. You know how people start scavenging round here when folks get put out.”
I needed to move.
I hung up on her and bolted for the front door. There was no plan, no thought—just this overwhelming need to save what was left. To get my sons things.
“Whoa!” Anthony’s voice rang out from the kitchen as I ran past him.
His voice barely registered. I started fumbling with my shoes, my fingers trembling so badly that I couldn’t even get the heel of the left one to slide on right. I bent down to yank the shoe into place when suddenly his hands caught my arms, strong and steady, spinning me around to face him.
“Aye, what’s happening?” His voice was calm but edged with concern, his dark eyes locking on mine, scanning my tear-streaked face for answers.
“Me and DJ’s stuff—my rent—I—” The words came out in jagged sobs, spilling over themselves in a rush. “She threw it all outside! It’s all outside!” My voice cracked, and I sucked in a ragged breath that barely made it to my lungs. “I have to go—right now!”
Anthony blinked, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together my frantic, broken words. But I couldn’t wait for him to catch up. I twisted out of his grip, the motion wild and desperate, and stumbled toward the door again.
He didn’t hesitate.
Grabbing his keys from the counter, he moved past me, yanking the door open.
“Get in the truck,” he said, his tone low but firm, the kind of voice that left no room for argument.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I threw myself into the passenger seat. Anthony slid into the driver’s seat beside me, his focus laser-sharp. He didn’t say anything, didn’t waste time asking questions or pressing for details. Instead, he pulled his phone out, his fingers flying across the screen with quick, purposeful taps as he drove.
When we turned into the trailer park a few minutes later, it felt like the air had been punched out of my lungs.
There she was.
Aunt Lina leaned against the rusted siding of the trailer, her cigarette dangling lazily between her fingers, the orange ember glowing faintly in the dull gray of the morning. Her face was a mask of smug satisfaction, her lips curled into that signature sneer that had haunted me since I was a kid. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch when the truck rumbled to a stop in the dirt lot, like she was daring me to come closer.
And there it was.
My life.
Scattered. Exposed.
The driveway was littered with pieces of us—DJ’s toys, his backpack, my clothes, the bins I’d so carefully packed in an effort to stay organized. DJ’s baby blanket was hanging off the edge of a box, limp and crumpled like it didn’t matter.
The sight made something snap inside me.
A man I didn’t recognize had one of DJ’s bags slung over his shoulder, the strap stretched tight across his chest like it was his now. A woman with uncombed hair held one of my shirts up to the light, turning it this way and that, inspecting it like she was deciding if it was worth keeping.
The truck wasn’t even fully stopped before my hand was on the door handle, yanking it open. I jumped out, the ground rushing up to meet me faster than I expected. My ankle twisted awkwardly under me as I landed, sending a sharp, searing pain shooting up my leg. I hissed, nearly stumbling, but it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter.
“Angel!” Anthony’s voice thundered behind me, but I was already limping toward the mess.
My hands were balled into fists at my sides, trembling from the sheer force of my anger. My chest burned, my heart hammering as tears blurred my vision. All I could think about was how hard I’d fought to keep it all together—only for this. For it to end up like this.
“What are you doing?” I screamed, my voice breaking as the words tore out of me.
Aunt Lina didn’t flinch. She took a long drag of her cigarette, her eyes half-lidded and bored, before blowing the smoke out in a slow, deliberate stream. Her lips twisted into a cruel smirk as she met my gaze.
“Told you to come get your shit,” she said, her tone flat and indifferent, as if the mess of my life scattered across the dirt was no more significant than yesterday’s trash.
I stared at her, at the smug tilt of her chin, the lazy flick of her cigarette as she ground the butt into the dirt with the heel of her shoe. And for a moment, I wondered—really wondered—if this was what my mother would have looked like if she were still alive. The thought twisted in my stomach, sharp and bitter, because the deeper, more unsettling question followed right behind it: Would she have treated me the same way?
As much as she’d put me down, would my mother have stood here just like Aunt Lina, sneering at my pain, indifferent to the way my heart was breaking? Something deep in my gut told me yes.
That thought—the one I’d always tried to shove into the darkest corner of my mind—settled over me like a lead weight. The kind of thought you don’t want to examine too closely, because once you do, there’s no turning back.
For the briefest moment, Aunt Lina’s face morphed into hers. The hard, cold disdain in her eyes—so familiar it made my stomach twist—was something I’d seen before. Something I’d lived with. That detached cruelty, like love was something you had to earn, and I’d never quite figured out how to qualify.
I blinked, hard, shaking my head like I could physically force the thought away.
Lina wasn’t my mother.
I had to remind myself of that, over and over. She wasn’t her. But the line between them blurred in ways that were too painful, too real. They shared the same ability to make me feel like I was nothing with just a few words.
“You’re letting people take my son’s things?” My voice cracked, raw and desperate, as I threw a shaking hand toward the man with DJ’s bag. He froze, startled, before dropping the bag back into the dirt like it had burned him. He mumbled something under his breath and shuffled off, avoiding my eyes.
Aunt Lina shrugged, flicking her cigarette ashes onto the ground like this was just another Tuesday morning.
“You didn’t pay your rent,” she said flatly, her voice calm and detached, like she wasn’t standing in the middle of what was left of my life. “Ain’t my problem.”
Before I could pull myself together enough to respond, Anthony’s voice cut through the chaos like the crack of a whip.
“Aye! Everybody, back the fuck up!”
The force of his voice was a thunderclap, deep and commanding, shaking the air around us.
Anthony ‘s broad shoulders were tense, his jaw set like stone. His movements were slow, deliberate as he approached the pile of my life, each step radiating an intensity that made the air around him feel heavier.
His eyes swept the lot, hard and uncompromising, as he pointed toward the strangers pawing through my things. “Put everything down. Now. Unless you want a problem with me”
The silence that followed was immediate, the kind that made your ears ring.
One by one, they all scattered. Some dropped what they were holding, their movements quick and jittery, like they couldn’t get away fast enough. Others lingered for a second too long, watching Anthony warily, before slinking off into the shadows of the trailer park.
Aunt Lina didn’t move.
She leaned against the trailer, her cigarette dangling from her fingers as she watched it all unfold with an expression that didn’t even try to hide her amusement.
Anthony didn’t spare her a glance. He kept his focus on the crowd until the last of them had disappeared, his presence alone holding the space like a loaded weapon.
When the last scavenger was gone, his shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension in his jaw remained. He turned to me then, his dark eyes finding mine, and the storm I saw there—the fury, the protectiveness, the sheer weight of his restraint—nearly broke me.
“This is supposed to be your family?” he said, as his eyes flicked to Aunt Lina, dragging over her with a look of disgust that cut deeper than any shout ever could.
“She’s my aunt,” I said, my voice cracking as I looked down at the dirt beneath my feet. “But she’s…not family.”
Aunt Lina let out a sharp, bitter laugh and took another drag of her cigarette. “Fucking right,” she sneered, smoke curling from her lips like venom.
My chest tightened, and a familiar ache clawed at my throat. When I told Anthony that all I had was DJ, I meant it. I meant it. Aunt Lina wasn’t family. She was the kind of person who would see you drowning and hand you an anchor.
“This is fucked up!” Anthony’s voice rang out.
Lina’s head snapped toward him, her expression hardening, and for a moment, her entire body stiffened. But then her lips curled into a nasty, mocking smile, one that made my stomach twist. She cocked her head to the side, the motion slow and deliberate, her narrowed eyes scanning Anthony as if she was measuring him up.
“Oh, so the big man’s got something to say?” she sneered, her words slow, deliberate, dripping with venom. Her eyes flicked to me, gleaming with cruel delight. “Angelina, you always did know how to sniff out a rich nigga, huh? Guess you couldn’t land the real cash cow, though—his brother. D-Truth’s the one making the money. This one just riding his coattails. But close enough, right? I see why you ain’t been home—got yourself all tucked up under him now, huh?”
“DJ’s in the hospital,” I choked out ignoring her commentary about Anthony and his brother, my voice trembling, desperate. The words spilled from my mouth in a rush, barely coherent, tumbling over themselves like they couldn’t get out fast enough. “We’ve been there since the toy drive. Mr. House hit us, and DJ—he’s—he’s hurt. I haven’t worked since then, Lina, I—”
Her laugh cut through me like a slap to the face—sharp, biting, full of disdain.
“Save the fucking sob stories and get your shit!” she barked, her voice loud and cold, every syllable dripping with venom. “I called Carlos, and he said he wasn’t responsible for your ass. And clearly, this big motherfucker ain’t giving you no money—”
“Look, you gon watch your mouth when you address her, or me and you gon’ be having a different type of conversation” Anthony threatened.
She tilted her head, her lips pulling into a nasty smirk, though I caught the way her hands fidgeted, her fingers twitching like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “What you gon do? Beat me? Please!”
Anthony didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. His voice was calm, low, but it carried like thunder. “I don’t need to put my hands on you to make sure you know better.”
For the first time, Aunt Lina’s smirk faltered. She took a long drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling from her lips as she tried to reclaim her composure.
Spitting venom, she snapped, “Look, I don’t give a fuck who your brother is! You ain’t nobody. Just like that bitch.” She jabbed a finger in my direction.
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
Anthony didn’t even blink. But his energy changed, shifted into something dangerous—silent but searing, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks. His expression stayed calm, but his eyes went cold, hard as steel, fixed on her like she was already beneath him. He didn’t say a word, just took one deliberate step forward.
It wasn’t loud, wasn’t rushed, but that single step might as well have been an earthquake in the dead quiet of the trailer park.
And Aunt Lina noticed.
For the first time, I saw it—fear. It flashed across her face, fleeting but undeniable, like she realized too late she’d gone too far. Her bravado faltered, her body shifting back instinctively, and her hands twitched toward her hips like she was looking for something to hold onto, something solid to anchor herself.
Anthony’s eyes burned into hers, cold, the air around him seeming to thicken with the weight of his fury. His voice was low, almost too calm, each word deliberate and razor-sharp. “You’re supposed to be her aunt. Family. And this is how you treat her? Tossing her and her child’s life in the dirt like they’re nothing? Talking to her like she doesn’t matter?”
He took another slow, deliberate step forward, his presence suffocating, swallowing every inch of space between them.
“Let me make something real clear to you—this is the last time you’ll ever disrespect her. The wrath that’s coming for you after this?” He let the words hang for a moment, his gaze cutting through her like a blade. “You’ll be begging for her forgiveness before it’s over. And even then, it won’t save you.”
He let the words hang in the air, the threat in his tone as clear as the crackle of tension radiating from him.
"Say something slick again," Anthony warned, his voice dropping lower, a growl that rumbled like thunder before the strike of lightning. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, sent a shiver racing down my spine. "Go ahead. See what happens."
Aunt Lina’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her bravado cracking, but her pride… her damn pride wouldn’t let her back down. She never knew when to stop.
“She ain’t shit to me,” she spat, the words shaky now, more defensive than sharp. Her eyes darted to Anthony, then back to me. “A whore like her fucking dead mama. She died, and I’m still stuck doing her dirty work.”
The words hung in the air, ugly and jagged.
Anthony froze.
The silence around him wasn’t empty; it was heavy, charged. It wasn’t the quiet of a man holding back—it was the kind of quiet that made your chest tighten, made you feel every second stretch out like it might be your last. It was the calm before the storm. The kind that promised consequences.
“What did I just say to you, Lina?” His tone was low, dangerous—a growl with teeth hidden beneath it.
He took a step closer, casting a shadow over her, his eyes fixed on her with the kind of unflinching intensity that could break someone without him even lifting a hand. “I’m not playing with you.”
“Whatever,” she scoffed, waving him off with her cigarette. “She’d be on the street if it wasn’t for me. All because she couldn’t take a little talking-to from a Steinburg. Now your ass is gonna end up on the street anyway.” Her eyes flicked to me, her smile widening, smug and mean.
“Angel and DJ are put up,” Anthony replied with a smirk before I could, his tone final, unshakable. “Don’t worry about that.”
Lina laughed, bitter and weak, her composure beginning to crack under the weight of his presence. “Well, sounds like she’s got somewhere to go,” she sneered, “since this trailer ain’t good enough for her no more.”
Her gaze shifted back to me, eyes narrowing as she tipped her chin up, her voice turning sharp and mocking. “That was always your problem, Angelina. Me and your mama used to talk about it all the time. You always thought you were better than somebody.”
“I—” I tried to speak, but Anthony cut me off.
“Don’t answer her, Angel.” he said to me. His eyes never left Lina, sharp and dangerous as a blade. “You don’t owe her shit.”
“Oh, don’t tell me…” Aunt Lina chuckled darkly, a cruel edge to her laugh. “You do everything this man says? Might as well have stayed with Carlos for that. At least you’d still be in that big, pretty house.” She leaned closer, her voice dripping with venom as she added, “One of them real housewives of Westonberry, just like that lily-white girl he’s with now.”
Anthony’s jaw tightened, the restraint in his body clear. He was holding it together—for me. His eyes followed her, cold and calculating, like he was taking her measure piece by piece. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stood there, a storm waiting to break.
I’d never seen him like this before—like a volcano poised to erupt, every ounce of his restraint barely holding the molten anger in check. Even the air around him seemed to hum with a cold, dangerous energy, heavy and unrelenting. It was the kind of quiet fury you didn’t see coming until it was too late, and it scared me—not for me, but for her.
“Anthony, it’s okay,” I said softly, brushing my fingers against his arm. My touch was light, hesitant, like I was trying to calm something too big to contain. “Let me just sort through it. I’ll take what matters and go. I’ll find a place when it’s time for me to leave yours.”
His gaze didn’t waver, locked on Aunt Lina’s retreating back, sharp and unrelenting.
“It’s not okay, Angel,” he said, his voice low and steady, each word burning hotter than any outburst. “Heartless. You told her about DJ—and she’s still carrying on.”
I glanced at the mess scattered across the dirt—bits of our life discarded like trash. My throat tightened, and I bit down on the lump rising there. “I’ll just… take what’s important,” I murmured.
Before I could move, Anthony’s hand caught my wrist, firm but gentle. “Don’t touch anything,” he said, his tone soft yet commanding.
I froze, my breath catching as his gaze finally dropped to mine. The fire in his eyes dimmed just enough to show something deeper—frustration, helplessness, a quiet, restrained fury not aimed at me but at everything that had brought me here.
“You’re not digging through scraps like you’re desperate,” he said, his voice cold and resolute, each word deliberate. “She’ll never see you struggle. She’ll never hear you beg. I got it.”
“Ant—” I started, but he cut me off.
“And don’t let her see you cry.” His hand tilted my chin up, his touch warm and grounding, his eyes locking onto mine as he wiped my tears away . “She don’t have no power over you. None. Keep your head high.”
The tears burned hot, but I blinked them back, inhaling deeply as I nodded. “Okay,” I whispered.
“There you go,” he murmured, dropping his hand slowly, like he was reluctant to let go. He held my eyes for just a moment longer, the intensity in his expression softening ever so slightly, like he was trying to will his strength into me, like he wouldn’t let me crumble even if I wanted to.
He turned back toward Aunt Lina, his jaw tightening again as the softness in his expression disappeared. The storm in him was still there, simmering under the surface, and the tension in his shoulders told me it wasn’t going to settle anytime soon.
The roar of engines snapped me out of the moment, like a rip in the air. I turned toward the sound as a sleek black Mercedes and a beat-up pickup truck barreled into the lot, screeching to a stop on either side of Anthony’s truck. Dust and gravel kicked up in a messy cloud, the chaos of it almost matching the mess of my life scattered across the yard.
Doors flew open in unison, and out came Reaper, DeShawn, Bishop, and Jackson. Their faces were hard, even from a distance I could feel the anger radiating off of them in waves.
“Ol’ girl really put her out,” Bishop muttered as his gaze swept over the yard, taking in the scattered remnants of everything we owned.
“Fuck her,” Anthony said without looking up, his tone ice-cold and final, like a judge slamming the gavel. He didn’t waste another second, bending down to pick up one of the boxes, his movements precise and controlled. He hoisted it like it weighed nothing and carried it to the bed of the pickup truck, setting it down with a deliberateness that made it clear he wasn’t here to play. “Just make sure Angel’s straight while we get everything back to the house.”
“Niecey’s on her way,” Reaper added, his deep voice steady, calm, but firm enough that it left no room for doubt. “She’ll get her outta here.”
Niecey? Oh, his wife?
Jackson stepped closer to me, his movements slower, more careful than the others. “You aight, Angel?” he asked, his voice softer, his eyes scanning me like he was looking for cracks, for signs that I was about to break.
My arms wrapped around myself instinctively, holding me together because it felt like if I didn’t, I might fall apart right there in the dirt. His eyes dropped to my foot, catching the way I kept shifting my weight, favoring it without realizing. He crouched slightly, his brows pulling together as he took a closer look.
“You hurt?” he asked, his tone gentle, but there was no missing the concern behind it.
“I—I’m fine,” I stammered, but my voice cracked halfway through, betraying the lie. My ankle throbbed like a second heartbeat, and my whole body felt like it was carrying too much at once—the pain, the humiliation, the sheer chaos of everything piling on all at once.
“You’re not fine,” Anthony’s voice cut through the noise of the moment.
“I can—” I started, but Anthony didn’t even let me finish.
“Angel.” My name was a command, low and steady, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Anthony turned back to the guys without missing a beat.
“Keep loading. Leave the furniture. I’ll replace it,” he said, his tone cold and clipped, like he was slicing through the situation piece by piece. “Make sure the baby stuff gets handled first.”
I flinched at the words—not because they weren’t true, but because they were. That furniture was old, worn-down, and stained with memories I didn’t want to carry anymore. I felt a pang of shame, knowing they’d seen it, knowing they knew just how bad things had been.
“Bet,” Reaper said, his voice low and firm, as he bent down to grab one of DJ’s bins. His movements were quick but controlled, and I watched as he carried it to the truck like it was his own kid’s belongings he was saving.
And then Aunt Lina’s voice broke through, sharp and grating as ever. “The ghetto Avengers,” she sneered from her spot by the trailer, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched the scene unfold. Her cigarette hung loosely between her fingers, the smoke curling around her like a cloud of contempt. “You bringing the whole squad for this, Angelina? What, you fucking all of them? And still can’t pay your rent. Sad!”
My heart sank, humiliation burning hot and fierce in my chest. I could feel the tears stinging behind my eyes again, but I blinked them back, refusing to give her the satisfaction. Anthony’s head snapped toward her, his jaw tightening again, but before he could say a word, DeShawn stepped in.
“Angel, why you ain’t tell us Rasputia from Norbit was your Granny?” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, his grin wide and unapologetic as he nodded toward Aunt Lina. “Lookin’ like she bout to go down the water slide in that outfit.”
The tension shattered in an instant as the guys burst into laughter. Aunt Lina’s face twisted in fury, her eyes narrowing as she pointed her cigarette at DeShawn.
“Shut your dumb ass up!” she barked, her voice high-pitched and cracking, like she was losing her grip on whatever composure she had left. “I’m her auntie, not her damn Granny! I ain’t no old lady!”
“Nah, the wig saying Granny to me,” DeShawn shot back, tilting his head as he squinted at her like she was some sort of abstract art piece he couldn’t quite figure out.
Anthony’s eyes stayed on Aunt Lina as the laughs around him grew louder, his face unreadable. However, there was a flicker of something in his expression—satisfaction, maybe, at the way his crew had turned the tables.
“So, you wanna watch a bitch come down a slide?” Reaper chimed in, the grin on his face growing wicked. His voice dropped low, perfectly mimicking Rasputia’s infamous line, “‘Well, I’m gon’ show you how a bitch come down a slide!’” He threw his hands up dramatically for effect. “Lookin’ ass!”
That was it. The guys doubled over, slapping their knees, clutching their sides, their laughter echoing through the lot. Even Anthony, normally stoic, let out a loud bark of amusement.
“Y’all childish as hell,” Aunt Lina spat, her voice shaky as she flicked her cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out with the heel of her worn-out slipper. “Just get her shit and get the fuck outta my lot.”
“Where Norbit at? He inside?” Reaper quipped, his face still split into a wide grin as he nudged DeShawn with his elbow, riding the high of his joke.
Before anyone could respond, the roar of another engine shattered the air, drowning out the scattered laughter. The ground seemed to tremble as Trina’s “Da Baddest Bitch” blasted from speakers so loud it felt like the bass was trying to crack the pavement in two.
Author Note: Play, “Da Baddest Bitch” by Trina as you read this next part :)
“Oh shit, Rasputia, you in trouble now,” Jackson muttered under his breath, his smirk widening as he leaned against the truck like he was settling in to watch a show.
Aunt Lina wasn’t fazed. Or at least, she pretended not to be. She snatched the cigarette from her mouth, her lips curling into a bitter sneer.
“I don’t give a fuck who you call over here,” she snapped, flicking the cigarette to the ground like a challenge before bringing a new one to her mouth. “This is my shit, and ain’t nobody can do shit to me for putting that little bitch out. Y’all ain’t finna put hands on me, so fuck off.”
But even as the venom poured from her mouth, her eyes flicked toward the Range Rover, narrowing like she was trying to size up what—or who—was coming.
The door of the Range Rover swung open with the kind of deliberate force that made your heart skip once it came to a stop. A manicured hand gripped the doorframe first, golden bangles jingling like a warning bell. And then she stepped out—long legs, glossy curls that bounced like they had their own personal lighting crew, and a confidence that radiated like heat off asphalt in the dead of summer.
She wore a skintight jumpsuit in the kind of bold, unapologetic red that said I’m here to dominate, paired with gold hoops so big they could’ve doubled as halos if not for the devilish grin she was already flashing.
The crew went still, their collective focus snapping to her as though she had single-handedly reset the energy of the entire lot.
“Say a quick prayer Granny,” DeShawn whispered, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused grin. “Bernice is here.”
Jackson let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he leaned further back, clearly ready for the entertainment.
Aunt Lina’s gaze darted from Bernice to Anthony, then back again, like she was recalibrating her approach.
Bernice tilted her head, her gold hoops catching the sunlight, and gave a slow, deliberate smile. She didn’t even look at Aunt Lina at first—her attention was on me.
“Angel, hey girl!” she called out, her voice warm and syrupy but carrying just enough bite to let you know she wasn’t playing. She walked toward me like she had all the time in the world, her heels clicking against the pavement, the sound ricocheting like gunfire.
“Uh… hey,” I managed to stammer, my eyes wide as I blinked at this stranger who somehow knew my name. I lifted a hand awkwardly, halfway to wave, but Bernice wasn’t even focused on me anymore.
She didn’t even pause to acknowledge my awkwardness. Instead, her focus snapped to Aunt Lina as she got right in her face.
“So, Babe,” she said, her tone so casual it was almost chilling. “This the bitch that put my good sis out?”
Reaper folded his arms across his chest, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.
“Yeah, that’s her,” he said casually, like they were discussing a bad Yelp review. He nodded toward Aunt Lina, who had frozen mid-drag on her cigarette.
“Oh, okay,” Bernice said calmly as she tilted her head again, narrowing her eyes as she took Aunt Lina in like she was deciding whether she was worth the effort.
Then, with no warning, she hauled back and smacked the wig clean off Aunt Lina’s head. The wig tumbled to the ground like a dethroned crown, landing in the dirt with a soft plop.
Reaper, Jackson, and DeShawn erupted into uncontrollable laughter, clutching their sides and doubling over like they couldn’t breathe. Jackson let out a wheezing, “Yoooo!” while DeShawn slapped Reaper on the back, howling so loud it echoed across the lot. People were looking outside now, standing outside their doors to see what was going on.
Aunt Lina stood there, frozen, her hands hovering midair, twitching between grabbing the wig or swinging on Bernice. Her bare scalp gleamed in the sunlight, the glare almost as loud as her shock. Her mouth opened and closed, her lips moving soundlessly, like a fish gasping for air.
Finally, she found her voice. “You crazy ass bitch!” she shrieked, clutching her head with one hand while snatching her wig off the ground with the other, like putting it back on would somehow erase what just happened. But even with it clutched in her hand, the damage was done—her dignity lay sprawled out in the dirt right beside her cigarette.
“Who you calling a bitch?” Bernice shot back without missing a beat as she stepped forward again. Her glossy curls bounced as she shoved Aunt Lina square in the chest, the force sending her stumbling back a step.
“Bae, you can’t be shoving old ladies like that,” Reaper said, his tone more amused than concerned as he fought back a grin.
Bernice whipped around, her curls flipping dramatically as she pointed a perfectly manicured nail at him. “Mind your business, baby,” she said, her tone syrupy sweet but full of sass. “This ain’t about you. This bitch is kicking a single mom and her son out in the middle of this hot ass Juniper weather, hell nah!”
Reaper held up his hands in mock surrender, but his grin never wavered. “Aight, aight,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “Do your thing, Ma.”
Aunt Lina, clearly stung by the humiliation, lunged forward, her arms outstretched in a wild attempt to shove Bernice. But before she could even make contact, Bernice’s hand shot up lightning fast, smacking the hell out of her.
CRACK.
The sharp sound echoed in the still air as Lina’s cigarette went flying, tumbling to the dirt like it had been smacked right out of her soul.
“Ooooooh!” the guys hollered in unison, their voices blending into a chorus of disbelief and amusement. DeShawn leaned back dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d just been hit himself, while Reaper smirked like he’d been waiting for this all day.
Lina stumbled, her hand flying to her cheek as her face twisted in shock. For a second, it looked like she couldn’t even process what had just happened. Her fingers hovered over her stinging skin, as if the heat from Bernice’s slap had left a permanent mark.
“Bernice, you really came out here smacking the elderly?” Anthony’s deep voice cut through the laughter, laced with mock concern as he tossed another box into the back of the truck. He didn’t even bother turning around, his focus steady and unbothered as if this was all just background noise.
“Ain’t nobody elderly!” Lina snapped, her voice sharp and defensive, though the slight wobble in her tone betrayed her. Her hand dropped from her face, and she squared her shoulders like she was ready to fight back. “Young bitch just caught me off guard!”
Bernice snorted, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned into her hip, completely unbothered. “Caught you off guard?” she repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Girl, I gave you five whole seconds to say something worth hearing, and you wasted it.”
“You put your hands on me? Bout some business that ain’t nothing to do with you?” Aunt Lina’s voice was shrill, her disbelief almost comical as she cradled her cheek, staring at Bernice like she couldn’t believe what had just gone down.
Bernice tilted her head, her smirk sharpening into something wickedly dangerous. She took a slow, deliberate step closer, her voice dropping to that low, sugary-sweet tone that was far scarier than any shout. “Oh, baby,” she cooed, her words as soft as they were lethal, “you made it everybody’s business the second you dumped my sis’s shit out here like it was garbage. So now?” She stepped in until their noses were practically touching, her hoops swinging with the motion. “It’s my business too.”
“Angelina ain’t worth the trouble—” Aunt Lina started, her voice dripping with venom.
CRACK.
The second slap rang out like a gunshot, louder than the first. Lina stumbled, her body twisting as her feet scrambled to keep her upright. The sound reverberated through the lot, and for a second, the air seemed to hold its breath.
Bernice didn’t miss a beat. She closed the distance in two quick steps, her hand flying out to deliver a third slap, this one so hard it left a red imprint on Lina’s cheek.
CRACK.
“Talk crazy to my sis again, hoe!” Bernice barked, her voice sharp and commanding, her chest heaving like she was just getting warmed up. Her stance was solid, unshakable, like she was daring Lina to make another move.
From behind me, DeShawn hollered, “Fight back, Rasputia! Damn!” His voice was drenched in mock agony, and he threw his hands in the air like he was rooting for an underdog who didn’t have a chance.
His words sent the rest of the guys into a fit of laughter, their hollering carrying across the trailer park. Reaper was doubled over, clutching his knees, while Jackson leaned against Anthony’s truck, howling with tears streaming down his face.
But Lina wasn’t done—at least, she didn’t think she was. Clearly at her breaking point, she lunged at Bernice, moving with all the speed and fury she could muster. Her wig flopped slightly with the motion, like even it was too embarrassed to be part of this.
Bernice sidestepped effortlessly, not even breaking a sweat, and Lina’s momentum carried her forward until she tripped over her own feet, sprawling onto the ground in a heap.
Thud.
The yard erupted in chaos.
“Damn!” Bishop drawled, doubling over with laughter, slapping his thigh as Aunt Lina scrambled to right herself. “Oh no, somebody should do something”, he said pretending to care as he snapped a picture of Lina.
“Bae, you know my dick still hurts when it gets hard,” he added, grabbing himself theatrically, his grin widening. “Damn, you can’t be turning me on like this right now! I’m not fully recovered!”
DeShawn fell into Reaper, gasping for air between bursts of laughter, while Jackson muttered, “Man, you stupid,” though even he couldn’t hide his grin.
Aunt Lina flailed on the ground, her wig askew, her dignity shredded beyond repair. She finally managed to sit up, grabbing for her wig with trembling hands, but no matter how she adjusted it, the damage had been done.
Bernice stood over her like a queen who had just conquered a kingdom, her arms crossed and her head tilted to the side, the faintest smirk playing on her lips. She looked completely unbothered, like this was just another day for her.
“You lucky I respect my elders,” Bernice said finally, her voice dripping with mock politeness as she reached up to flip her curls over her shoulder, the gesture casual and dismissive. “And I’m in a good mood today.”
She paused for effect, letting Aunt Lina stew in her humiliation for a moment longer before adding with a sly grin, “Plus, my man can’t handle all this pressure right now.” She glanced over her shoulder at Reaper, who was still grinning ear to ear. “Ain’t that right, baby?”
Reaper straightened up, throwing his hands out like he’d been caught in a trap. “You know I can’t even front,” he said, laughing. “It’s too much right now but, wait till we get home.”
Bernice rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t bother to hide her smirk. She turned back to Aunt Lina, who was still fumbling to pull herself together, and shook her head like she couldn’t believe the older woman had even tried.
“Talk to my friend with some respect before I take my belt off and whoop that ass next time,” Bernice said, pointing to me as she spoke, her manicured nail gleaming in the sunlight like the blade of a dagger.
Aunt Lina, still clutching her wig and the last shreds of her pride, grabbed onto a nearby tree to steady herself. Her movements were slow and shaky, the embarrassment practically steaming off her as she struggled to pull herself upright. She turned her attention to Bishop, like she was searching for someone to save her.
“Shouldn’t you do something? You just gon’ stand there and let her assault me?” she snapped, her voice trembling with indignation, though it cracked slightly at the end.
Bishop didn’t so much as blink. “I ain’t the police,” he said with a shrug, his tone so casual it was almost dismissive, like she’d just asked him to hold her purse.
Aunt Lina’s face twisted in frustration. “You’re—” she started, but before she could finish, the rest of the crew chimed in, perfectly in sync like a barbershop quartet waiting for their cue.
“Chief of Staff!” they all shouted, their voices ringing out like they’d rehearsed it for weeks.
Bishop puffed out his chest with exaggerated pride, grinning wide like he’d just been handed a gold medal. “Act like you know,” he added, his tone dripping with smugness.
The scene played out like some wild mix of a comedy special and a street fight, but for Aunt Lina, it was nothing short of a public execution. And for me? It was a collision of emotions I couldn’t even begin to unravel. I stood there, watching people I barely knew fight for me—defend me—against a woman who had known me since birth. A woman who should’ve been my shield, my safe place, but instead had become the thing I needed protection from.
These people, this chosen family I’d stumbled into, had stepped into a role she was supposed to fill. And while it left me raw with gratitude, it also stung in a way I couldn’t quite name. Because they shouldn’t have had to.
“I’ll have y’all arrested for harassment!”, Aunt Lina spat, her voice cracking as she jabbed a finger in Bishop’s direction.
“Harassment?” Jackson drawled, stepping forward, his grin widening as he leaned on the hood of Anthony’s truck. “Nah, ma’am. This here’s a public service.” He waved his hand toward the scattered mess of my belongings like a game show host presenting a prize. “We’re just cleaning up the disaster you left. Consider us community helpers.”
Bishop smirked, adjusting the hem of his shirt like he was about to give a TED Talk. “Speaking of community,” he said, scanning the yard with exaggerated seriousness before narrowing his gaze on the rusted trailer behind her, “this setup right here? Feels like it’s giving… ‘violation.’” He cocked his head, stroking his chin dramatically. “Lemme guess—no updated inspection, a couple of fire hazards? And is that mold I smell?” He sniffed the air for emphasis. “Whew, thanks for bringing this to my attention. Might have to issue you a citation or ten for everyone’s safety.”
Lina’s eyes widened, her bravado cracking like glass. “Corrupt ass…” she muttered under her breath, but the venom in her words lacked its usual sting.
“What’s that?” Bishop asked, cupping a hand to his ear with mock curiosity. “You say ‘thank you for keeping the community safe?’ You’re welcome. That’s what I do.”
Reaper barked out a laugh, slapping DeShawn on the back as Jackson leaned into the joke.
“Man, he about to write you a ticket for existing,” Jackson said, grinning as Aunt Lina’s face turned an alarming shade of red.
“Go on and call the cops if you feel froggy,” Reaper said casually, folding his arms as he leaned against the truck. “Just make sure you let ‘em know they need to bring the health department with ‘em. They gon’ wanna see all this.” He motioned to the trailer, shaking his head with mock disapproval.
Aunt Lina’s jaw worked furiously, but no sound came out. She was trapped—hemmed in by their sharp wit and Anthony’s unrelenting presence, her power slipping through her fingers like sand.
And for the first time, I felt it.
Relief.
Because she wasn’t invincible. She wasn’t untouchable. Not anymore.
Bernice took one last glance at Aunt Lina, her eyes narrowing like she was deciding whether to finish her off or let her wallow. With a dismissive flip of her curls, she turned back toward me and gestured toward the truck.
“C’mon, Angel,” she said, her tone firm but warm. “Let’s get you outta here, Sissy.”
I looked at Anthony, searching his face for direction. He gave me a small, firm nod, the kind that spoke louder than words: Go on. You’re safe.
Taking a deep breath, I shifted my weight to step toward Bernice’s Range Rover. But as soon as my foot hit the ground, pain shot up my leg, sharp and unrelenting. I hissed through my teeth, stumbling slightly as I tried to steady myself.
Before I could try again, Anthony was there. He moved so fast I barely registered it before his arms scooped me up in one smooth, effortless motion. He held me like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
The warmth of him, the solidness, made my heart stutter.
“My hero!” Jackson hollered, grinning wide as he batted his lashes dramatically. He clasped his hands together in mock adoration, his voice high and playful. “Ant, save me next!”
The rest of the crew snickered, but Anthony didn’t even glance in their direction. His focus stayed entirely on me, his expression calm and unreadable, though the tightness in his jaw gave him away.
Niecey opened the passenger door, her lips pulled into a knowing grin as she stepped back to give Anthony room.
“Look at you, all Prince Charming and shit,” she teased, winking as she reached up to adjust her sunglasses. “You trying to show out in front of Angel, huh?”
Anthony didn’t bite. “Pop the seat back,” he said simply, his voice clipped but polite.
Niecey rolled her eyes but obeyed, leaning into the car to adjust the seat so I could sit comfortably. “Alright, alright. Let me not embarrass you in front of your friend,” she muttered, though the grin on her face didn’t fade.
Anthony set me down gently, careful to avoid jarring my injured ankle. The leather seat was cool against the back of my thighs as I settled in, but his hands lingered on me, his thumbs brushing against my waist like he was double-checking to make sure I was okay.
“You remember the code to the house, right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned in, careful and deliberate as he reached across to fasten my seatbelt.
“Get some ice on that ankle and relax, alright?His eyes found mine, holding them in a moment that stretched longer than it should have. “Me and the guys got this. I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry about anything.”
I nodded, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. The weight of everything—DJ, the crash, the trailer, my entire life being treated like it was disposable—pressed down on me, heavy and relentless. My chest felt tight, the ache building in my throat, threatening to spill over as silent tears.
Anthony crouched slightly, leaning in closer.
“Hey…” he said softly, his voice pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. His eyes searched mine, steady and knowing, like he could see every emotion running through me at a mile a minute. “What do I always tell you?”
He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of my tamed curls back from my face. The simple gesture—gentle, careful—brought me back to center instantly.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper as I repeated his words. “You got me.”
His lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that wasn’t just for show—it was reassuring, solid, like a promise. “That’s right,” he said, his voice calm and firm. “I got you. Always.”
For a moment, the world felt quieter, like everything outside of this Range Rover—the chaos, the humiliation, the pain—had been dulled. It was just us.
“See you in a little bit,” he said finally, standing back up.
He closed the door with a soft click, the sound somehow final but not heavy, like it was sealing in the promise he’d just made.
“Ooooh, Ant is so in love with you!” Niecey squealed, clapping her hands like she’d just watched a rom-com play out in real life. She did a little dance behind the wheel, wiggling her shoulders before throwing it in reverse.
Heat rushed to my face, and I ducked my head, biting back a smile. “He’s just... being Anthony,” I mumbled, though my voice lacked conviction.
“Mhm, sure,” she teased, shooting me a knowing look as she backed out of the lot. “If that man stares any harder at you, his eyeballs might fall out. I’m just saying!”
I didn’t respond. My gaze drifted to the rearview mirror, where Anthony and the guys were already moving with military precision, gathering the pieces of my life off the ground. DJ’s toys. My clothes. The last fragile threads of normalcy.
Bernice glanced over at me as she drove, a knowing smirk tugging at her glossy lips. “Anthony was right—you are super pretty,” she said, her voice casual but laced with approval.
My cheeks burned, and I felt the blush creep all the way to my ears.
“Thank you,” I murmured, ducking my head slightly, but the smile pulling at my lips betrayed me.
“I’m Niecey, by the way,” she said with a wink, flashing me a dazzling smile. “Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances with me tossing up your Granny like a rag doll and all, but listen—violence? Violence needs to make a comeback.” She spoke so matter-of-factly, it took me a second to register what she’d said. “Folks talk crazy nowadays ‘cause they think nobody’s gonna pop them. Ain’t no fear of consequences anymore. Sometimes,” she said, her tone dropping to something almost ominous, “you gotta teach people the hard way that some of us ain’t scared to swing. Okay?”
I couldn’t help but giggle, her energy so over-the-top and infectious that it broke through the tension still clinging to me. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
She shrugged like she hadn’t just delivered a manifesto on justified violence. “Plus, Reap and the guys know everybody. Bish is Chief of Staff, and their homeboy runs the damn PD.” She shot me a sideways grin, her tone turning playful. “We pretty much do what we want. And now, you being with Anthony and him and Reap being brothers? That makes us sisters. And I step behind my sisters. So whenever you need me to beat a bitch’s ass, just call me. I got you.”
“Uh… okay,” I said, laughing despite myself. Niecey sure talked a lot, but she was so entertaining I couldn’t mind it. Her confidence and loyalty were a balm to my bruised soul.
She shifted in her seat, her tone dropping just slightly, turning serious in a way that caught my attention.
“So…you into Anthony as much as he’s into you?” she asked, her eyes flicking over to me with a pointed look. “’Cause I don’t play about him. As big as he is, he’s sensitive. And if you hurt him, I’ll have to hurt you. Respectfully, of course.” Her grin softened the threat, but I could tell she wasn’t entirely joking.
I blinked, her words catching me off guard, and I stumbled over my response.
“I—uh, yeah. I mean…I do like him. A lot,” I admitted, my voice quieter now, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “More than a lot, to be honest.”
“Good,” she said, nodding like she’d just made a decision. “’Cause he’s a good one. Don’t let his quiet ass fool you—he’s all in. That man don’t halfway do nothing.” She gave me a sly smile. “And I see the way you look at him. You’re all in, too even though you acting all shy. So, y’all gon’ be fine.”
My heart started to race, pounding so hard I was sure Niecey could hear it.
“He said that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my chest tightening as I tried to process her words. “That he’s… all in?”
Niecey gave me a look like I’d just asked if water was wet. “Girl, hello? You live in that man’s house. He’s with you day in and day out—what you think this is?”
Before I could respond, she burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that felt too big for the car, making me feel like I’d missed the punchline of a joke everyone else was in on. “Let Reap tell it?” She shook her head, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Whew, Anthony is down bad, sis. Like, bad-bad.” She raised her eyebrows for emphasis, leaning closer like she was letting me in on the juiciest secret.
I blinked at her, trying to hide the fact that my heart had just done a full somersault in my chest. “Bad-bad?” I repeated, the words coming out small, almost like I was afraid to believe them.
“Bad,” she said again, dragging the word out for emphasis as she gave me a pointed look. “You got that man twisted up, Angel. I ain’t ever seen him like this.”
I turned my face toward the window, trying to hide how wide my eyes had gotten, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. The idea of Anthony being “down bad” over me made my chest feel light and tight all at once, like a balloon too full of air.
“Maybe I’m saying too much,” Niecey said, her tone shifting slightly, a little sheepish now. “My adrenaline’s still all up from slapping your aunt around. Let me shut up before I get myself in trouble.”
But I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t really sorry. Still, the idea that Anthony might have been talking about me—thinking about me—made my stomach flip in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.
“Besides,” Niecey said casually, flipping her curls over her shoulder like she hadn’t just dropped a grenade, “I don’t want Reap trying to punish me for telling you all the shit he told me. You know his dick ain’t been all the way right since I fractured it, and we don’t need any more injuries.”
“What?” The word shot out of me before I could stop it, my jaw practically hitting the floor as I thought back to something Reap had mentioned at the trailer park.
She waved a hand, brushing it off like she’d just mentioned the weather.
“Never mind, girl. That’s a story for another day.” Her laugh was easy, like she hadn’t just casually upended my understanding of the world.
I blinked, still stuck on fractured it, but before I could ask for clarification, she clapped her hands together like she was switching gears. “Anyway, let’s get you in the house so I can rub up and ice that ankle. Gotta have it propped up nice and proper so Anthony knows I did my job. You know he don’t play about his Angel.”
The way she said it—his Angel—sent a warmth creeping up my neck. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn’t fight the little smile tugging at my lips.
Bernice felt safe, like the rest of the crew did. She treated me like she’d known me for years, her words and actions wrapped in a kind of sisterhood I didn’t know I needed. Between her defending me, driving me home, promising to take care of me, and even spilling a little tea she probably got from pillow talk, I felt a rare sense of safety settle over me like a warm, weighted blanket. It was that safety that gave me the push I needed to admit what I’d been holding onto for weeks.
“I’m really falling for him, Bernice,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “It scares me.”
Her hand shot out to squeeze mine, the gesture grounding. “I don’t know what you’ve been through in the past,” she said, her tone softening, her eyes flicking to me before turning back to the road. “Probably a lot of bullshit, like the rest of us. But you’re safe with Ant, I promise you that.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Nobody’s ever treated me, or looked at me, the way he does,” I said, my voice thick with emotion I hadn’t expected to spill.
“Awwww!” Bernice squealed, her grin widening as she slapped the steering wheel. “And when your son comes home? Whew, y’all gon’ be a whole family and shit. That’s so fucking cuuuute!”
The warmth of her excitement made me laugh despite myself, the sound bubbling up lighter than I expected. A whole family. The idea felt too good, too big, too perfect. Something I always wanted for DJ—so much so that I stayed with Carlos longer than I should have, trying to force a picture-perfect family into a broken frame. The guilt of what I’d left behind still lingered, a quiet ache I carried everywhere. What DJ could have had if I stayed, the father figure he’d lost… but I knew staying would have destroyed me. It would’ve left nothing behind for DJ but a shell of a mother.
Bernice must’ve sensed the shift in me because her voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, soft but charged with conviction. “Sis, let me tell you something,” she said, her tone steady and certain, like she was laying down an undeniable truth. “If he’s moving mountains for you like this, it’s ‘cause he sees something real with you. Don’t let whatever you went through before mess with what you’ve got now.”
Her words settled over me like a quiet weight, pressing against the insecurities I’d carried for so long. The car slowed as she turned into the driveway, and I felt her glance at me again. This time, her expression softened, her voice taking on a new layer of warmth as she parked and shifted in her seat to face me.
“And another thing,” she added, her tone turning more serious but still laced with that Bernice charm. “All this that Anthony’s doing? He doesn’t just do this for anybody. This is his love language, sis. He’s not a man of a lot of words—ain’t never been—but his actions? They speak loudly. And right now?” She tilted her head, her perfectly arched brow lifting as if daring me to deny it. “They’re screaming something at you.”
Her words hit me like a wave, washing over all the doubt and second-guessing that had been circling in my mind. I sat there, staring at the dash for a moment, thinking about everything Anthony had done—from holding me in his arms the night of the accident to unofficially taking me and DJ into his home, to making sure DJ and I were cared for in ways I didn’t even know how to ask for. Every action was deliberate, consistent, and now, looking back, I realized it had been screaming at me the whole time. Even today, calling for backup like I was someone worth rallying an army for.
Bernice was right. His actions weren’t just speaking—they were shouting, loud and clear. And now, with the fog of doubt lifting, and me coming out of survival mode, I could finally see it for what it was. Anthony wasn’t just telling me I mattered; he was showing me, in every deliberate, thoughtful way, that I wasn’t alone anymore. I wasn’t just cared for. I was protected. Chosen.
And as much as his actions spoke louder than words, there was one thing he told me from the beginning that stuck with me, something he’d never let up on, not even for a second.
No matter what my insecurities tried to whisper in my ear, the truth was crystal clear: Anthony’s got me. Always. In all ways.
to be continued…
Send me auntie's address. I just wanna holler at her for a minute.
Anthony is SPRUNG and I am all about it.
I love Anthony and his crew. Love Bernice in this chapter as well!