12. anthony's angel
A change in Little Derek’s condition forces Anthony to confront his own doubts and imperfections, as he’s reminded that even the strongest men are only human.
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ANTHONY HARRIS
The hallway felt heavier than it should’ve, like the air itself was holding its breath. I leaned against the wall, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, watching through the small window in the door.
Inside, Angel sat by Little Derek’s bed, holding his tiny hand in both of hers. Her face was lit up, glowing in a way I hadn’t seen before—like joy was too big for her to contain. Tears streaked her cheeks, her shoulders trembling as she wiped at her face, but these weren’t the kind of tears I’d grown used to. These weren’t from fear or heartbreak.
These tears carried hope. Relief. Love.
Little Derek was awake.
Not just fluttering his eyes open like before, not just mumbling half-formed words while the machines around him beeped in their rhythm. Awake, awake. Sitting up, alert, his small frame propped against a mountain of hospital pillows. His voice rasped like it was being dragged across sandpaper, but he was trying. Trying to talk. Trying to reconnect.
And Angel? She was right there, her hands fluttering between holding his and brushing back his curls. Every so often, she’d press her hand to his cheek, like she couldn’t believe he was really there. The tears kept coming, no matter how many times she wiped them away, a constant stream of emotion she didn’t even try to hide.
The room buzzed with a frantic kind of energy, nurses and doctors moving in and out, a blur of white coats and focused expressions. Flashlights flickered in Derek’s eyes. Reflex tests. Machines being adjusted. It was a race, like watching a NASCAR pit crew work in perfect harmony. But through it all, Derek didn’t seem to care. His gaze stayed locked on Angel, his brown eyes—lighter than hers, but the same shape, the same intensity—never leaving her face.
His lips moved, his voice cracking and rasping as he struggled to say her name.
“Slow down, baby,” Angel whispered, leaning in close. Her voice trembled, every word gentle and soaked with love. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”
Her words hit me like a gut punch. I’d seen Angel in pieces before, seen her shattered by fear, held her when she thought she couldn’t take another blow. I thought I’d seen every side of her. But this? This was Angel in her purest form. A mother, her love pouring out of her like sunlight, filling every shadow in that room.
And it cracked something in me wide open.
She was so happy. I couldn’t take my eyes off her—her face lit up in a way that felt sacred, like nothing in the world could touch her in that moment. I wanted to see her like that all the time.
But as I stood outside the room, leaning against the wall with the faint hum of the hospital buzzing around me, my chest felt tight. It wasn’t the kind of tightness that knocked you flat. It was quieter, but just as suffocating. Relief? Nerves? Probably both.
This was it. The moment we’d been waiting for, praying for. The one I’d run through in my head so many times, picturing how it would play out. But now that it was here, now that Little Derek was awake, the plans I’d built felt like they were balancing on the edge of something fragile. Something that could shatter with one wrong step.
When Derek was unconscious, life had felt like living inside a bubble. It was awful, sure—but in a twisted way, it was simple. Everything I imagined for us—me, Angel, and her boy—had existed in this space where nothing could challenge it. But now? Now, he was awake. Sitting up in that bed. Holding his mama’s hand. His presence made it all real, and with that came the weight I hadn’t fully prepared for.
Would he accept me? Hell, would he even understand what I was trying to be in his life? And if he didn’t? If he didn’t like me—or worse, if he hated me—it could end everything with me and Angel before it even had a chance to start.
I caught my reflection in the glass, my brow creased, jaw locked tight like I was gearing up for a fight. I didn’t recognize myself like this—hesitant. Second-guessing. Nervous as hell. That wasn’t me. But right now, standing here? I felt like I was walking a tightrope I’d never trained for.
Then Angel’s laugh slipped through the glass. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t even meant to reach me—but it did. Soft and real, it broke through the noise in my head like sunlight punching through storm clouds. I glanced back at her, and there she was, looking at Derek like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. He was staring at her the same way, like they were each other’s anchor.
It was the kind of love you didn’t have to explain. The kind that just was.
And damn, I wanted to be part of that. To give them that kind of love. To build something that strong.
But standing there, with my hands buried in my pockets and nerves twisting in my gut? I couldn’t lie to myself. I was terrified.
The timing of everything? Wild.
I could still smell her on me. Her scent clung to my beard like a whisper of what had just happened between us. I could still taste her too, the memory of her lips lingering on my tongue, her cries for me replaying in my head like a song I didn’t want to stop playing.
She’d opened up to me, let me in, no walls, no hesitation. Told me how she felt—those strong feelings we’d been skirting around for weeks. And I told her the truth too. I wanted her. I wanted us.
But now? Now, standing outside that hospital room with her son awake, everything felt like it had shifted. Like God had stepped in and slammed the brakes. Not to stop us, but to remind us what mattered most. Little Derek needed her. Whatever Angel and I were—or weren’t—could wait.
Right now, I wasn’t going anywhere. Taking care of Angel and her boy? That was a promise I wasn’t backing out on.
But damn if my nerves weren’t working overtime. My chest was tight, my hands twitching with the need to do something, anything. I started pacing the hallway, my sneakers squeaking faintly against the tile, my mind racing. Every step felt heavier, like I was carrying the weight of what was next without knowing if I could handle it.
What if I wasn’t enough? What if I messed this up?
I pulled out my phone, the need to ground myself tugging at me. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard for what felt like forever before I finally started typing. The guys were ruthless, always ready to clown, but I didn’t care. I needed to tell someone. To say it out loud.
ME: Yo, Little Derek is awake.
REAPER: Oh shit! Finally!
BISHOP: Congrats, Dad! 😂 You meet your son yet?
JACKSON: I know Angel ass over there crying.
REAPER: You talk to him yet?
ME: Giving them space, but I’m here.
BISHOP: Space? Bruh, get your ass in there. The fuck?
ME: Chill.
REAPER: Go tell him you da pappy!
BISHOP: How you wake up from a accident with a whole new Daddy?
ME: What if he don’t like me?
DESHAWN: Then you’re toast, my guy. Outta there 💀
I stared at the screen, biting the inside of my cheek. The jokes hit different tonight. Normally, I’d toss a few back at them, keep the vibe light, but this one wasn’t landing. What if Derek didn’t like me? It was stupid to let the thought sink its teeth in, but it was already there, gnawing at the back of my head.
BISHOP: Man, you’ve been there the whole time. Kid probably already thinks you’re a superhero.
REAPER: Or at least Alfred. Sidekick vibes. 🦇
JACKSON: You been holding his mom down. He’s gonna see that. Just go in there and be yourself.
REAPER: Unless you planning to letting Carlos step up and take them back.
The chat went dead for a beat. A heavy, awkward silence, even through the screen. Reaper knew he’d crossed a line with that one.
Carlos.
Just thinking his name made my blood heat. He wasn’t taking shit from Angel or me, and he damn sure wasn’t taking care of his son. His “visits” had been rare at best, half-assed at worst—like sitting by Derek’s hospital bed for an hour was some unbearable chore he had to check off his list. He’d show up, flash a fake look of concern, and then dip like he had better things to do. He probably did—playing house with his “real” family while his son fought for his life here.
But me? I stayed. I stayed when Angel’s tears wouldn’t stop, when she sat there staring at the machines like the numbers on the monitors held the whole damn world. I stayed through sleepless nights, through the silent ones, through the heavy ones where words didn’t even make sense anymore. I made sure she ate when she wanted to skip meals, made sure she rested when she was on the verge of collapse.
I’d stepped into the shoes Carlos left behind—not because I had to, but because I wanted to.
His family? Yeah. They were mine now.
And I wasn’t the same man who’d walked into this hospital weeks ago.
I hit the chat again, typing with more certainty this time.
ME: Nah. Never that.
BISHOP: Then stop tripping and go meet your stepson. We believe in you, Superman.
I stared at the door to Derek’s room, my chest tightening as their words sank in. The hum of the hospital faded into the background, everything narrowing to the glass separating me from the boy inside. This wasn’t just about Angel anymore. It hadn’t been for a while.
This was about him too.
ME: I’m going in.
JACKSON: Let’s get it!
REAPER: Don’t blow it, stepdad. 💀
REAPER: Tell him Uncle Reap said what up.
Before I could put it away, the phone buzzed in my hand, the screen lighting up with Pops’ name. I swiped to answer, pressing it to my ear, my voice steady, but my head somewhere else.
“Where you at? I came over here to see about—”
“Angel’s son is awake,” I cut him off, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Fully alert.”
A pause hung between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then, “Oh, shit… okay. God is good.”
I nodded like he could see me, even though my eyes stayed locked on the window. Inside, Angel sat on the edge of Derek’s bed, her hand resting gently on his cheek as he smiled up at her, weak but awake. Fully here.
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the doubt creeping in like a shadow. Was I crazy? Was I moving too fast? This wasn’t normal—none of it was. But then again, nothing about Angel crashing into my life had been normal either.
“Pop,” I said, quieter now, the weight of everything tightening in my chest. “You think I need to fall back?”
“What?” His voice sharpened, confused but firm, like the idea offended him. “Fall back? You just told me you were ready to make her yours.”
“Yeah, I did,” I admitted, rubbing a hand over my beard as I paced a few steps down the hallway. “But this… this changes everything.” The words came out slower, heavier. “Her son waking up—it’s big. And now? I don’t know, Pop. I feel like I need to…” I trailed off, unsure if I even knew how to finish that sentence.
Pops let out a long, low sigh, the kind you could only pull off when you’d lived long enough to know some answers didn’t come easy.
“Listen to me, Ant,” he started, his tone steady, deliberate. “Angel needs you. She’s been needing you, and you’ve been there. And you told me yourself—you need her.”
I dragged my hand down my face, the rough scrape of my palm doing nothing to settle the whirlwind in my head.
“Yeah,” I muttered, mostly to myself.
“Yeah,” Pops echoed, his voice steady, certain, like he already knew where this was going. “Now go on in there and do what you’ve been doing. Be there for her. For both of them. You already got one foot in—might as well step all the way.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Alright.”
“Alright,” he said, his tone shifting, lighter now but no less firm. “And Ant?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop doubting yourself. You know what you’re doing—even if it don’t feel like it right now. Your steps are ordered. There’s something bigger at play here, bigger than you. You can’t see it yet, but trust it.”
His words sliced through the noise in my head, cutting straight to the core of everything I didn’t know how to say out loud. I nodded again, gripping the phone tighter.
Then his voice softened, lower now, but heavier. “Shit, it might be the boy who needs you more than Angel does.”
Those words hit me square in the chest, settling in a place I hadn’t let myself think too hard about.
“Even if—” Pops paused, like he wanted to make sure the words landed—“worst-case scenario, things didn’t work out with you and Angel, every boy needs strong men around. Lord knows it ain’t his father.”
I let his words hang in the air for a beat, taking them in, turning them over in my mind. He wasn’t wrong. Carlos was damn near a ghost, a shadow where a father should’ve been. In and out when it suited him, showing up just enough to make himself look good before vanishing again. The kind of man who left gaps so wide you could fall through them.
Maybe… maybe that’s where I came in. Maybe Little Derek needed someone who could show him what it meant to be solid. What it meant to show up and stay.
“I’m about to go meet him,” I said, my voice low but steady. The resolve in it surprised even me.
“Good,” Pops said, the faintest smile in his voice. “Go on, son. Make that boy know he’s got somebody solid in his corner.”
I ended the call and stood there for a moment, staring at the door. The hum of the hospital around me faded, my pulse loud in my ears as I took one last deep breath.
Alright, little man. Let’s see how this goes.
I pushed the door open slowly, the soft creak cutting through the hum of machines and muffled hallway voices like a ripple in still water. Angel sat by Derek’s bedside, her fingers gliding gently through his hair, her touch as soft as her smile. When she looked up and saw me, her eyes were still wet from happy tears, but there was a warmth in them now—a softness that made my chest tighten.
Little Derek was sitting up, propped against a fortress of pillows that seemed to swallow his small frame. His brown eyes, just a shade lighter than Angel’s, flicked over to me, filled with equal parts curiosity and caution. He was awake. Really awake. And seeing him like this—really seeing him—felt different.
Derek blinked at me, his little face scrunching up in that unmistakable way kids do when they’re trying to size someone up.
“Who’s he, Mommy?” His voice was small and raspy, like gravel caught in a stream, but hearing him speak hit me like an adrenaline shot straight to the chest.
Angel smiled, keeping her hand resting on his head.
“This is Anthony, baby,” she said, her voice calm, steady, but still threaded with emotion. “He’s been the one helping us while you’ve been getting better.” She gave him a look so soft it could’ve melted steel. “He’s mommy’s friend.”
Mommy’s friend.
Derek’s gaze didn’t waver, his little eyes narrowing as if he was measuring me against some secret checklist. Finally, he tilted his head, his voice almost accusing. “You’re tall.”
I chuckled, stepping closer to the bed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“Like… really tall,” he added, leaning back into the pillows to look up at me, his tone serious like he was solving an important mystery. “You…play basketball?”
“Nope,” I said, dragging the chair closer to the bed and sitting down so I wasn’t towering over him. “But I’m pretty good at Uno. Your mom told me you love playing.”
His eyes widened at that, a flicker of interest replacing the caution.
“Mommy sucks at Uno,” he said with a small, raspy smile that lit up his tired face.
Angel gasped, her hand pausing in his curls. “Excuse me?” she said, laughing through her tears. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been practicing.”
“Still losing,” I teased, catching her side-eye as I leaned back in the chair.
Derek’s laugh broke through the moment—soft, rough around the edges, but full of life. It was the best sound I’d heard in weeks.
Angel had told me once that Uno was their thing, something they always played together. So while we waited for him to wake up, I made sure we played almost everyday. At first, she resisted, said it felt wrong, like having fun without him was some kind of betrayal. But I convinced her otherwise, told her it would keep her ready for when he woke up.
But damn, my pretty girl was trash at Uno. Zero improvement. Little Derek didn’t know it yet, but he was definitely about to whoop her ass as soon as he was up to playing, and from the look on his face, I could tell he already had it planned.
For a second, I just let myself take it all in—-Little Derek was here. Awake. Smiling. Talking to me like I belonged in his world.
“I wanna see a real horse,” he said, his voice raspy but filled with a kind of awe that tugged at something deep in my chest. “Mommy said you have horses.”
I glanced over at Angel, catching that soft, knowing smile she gave me. It was the kind of smile I was starting to get used to—the kind that felt like a quiet thank you without her saying a word.
“Yeah, I do,” I said, nodding. “My dad’s at the ranch right now, but when you’re ready, big man, we’ll make it happen. Deal?”
“Deal!” Derek grinned, his face lighting up even brighter, and damn if that smile didn’t feel like a win after everything this kid had been through.
Angel’s eyes met mine again, and this time, there weren’t any tears. Just relief. Real, tangible relief.
“You wanna ride them?” I asked, watching Derek’s expression carefully.
His eyes widened, excitement breaking through the rasp in his voice. “Like… a real cowboy?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding again.
“I don’t know how.”
“If you wanna learn,” I said, flicking a quick glance at Angel for her approval, “and if your mom says it’s okay, maybe we can set you up with some lessons. Teach you everything you need to know.”
Derek’s whole face lit up like I’d just promised him the moon. He shifted, trying to sit up straighter, excitement pouring out of him. But the movement came too fast, and a wince crossed his face before he could stop it.
Angel was by his side in an instant, her hand on his shoulder as she gently eased him back against the pillows.
“Relax, baby boy,” she said softly, her voice calm and soothing in a way that only she could manage. “We’ve got plenty of time. When you’re feeling better, we’ll talk about it, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, his grin softening but never fading.
I caught Angel’s gaze again, silently apologizing for throwing so much at her all at once. But she just smiled back at me, her eyes steady, a quiet reassurance that I hadn’t overstepped.
Then she cleared her throat, her tone shifting like she was bracing herself. “Speaking of getting better,” she said, smoothing her hand over Derek’s curls, “when you get out of here, we’re going to stay with our friend Anthony for a little bit. Okay?”
Derek blinked at her, his excitement dimming, replaced with confusion. “What you mean?”
“We’re gonna live at his house,” she said gently, choosing her words with care, “just until we figure out a new place.”
“What about our trailer?” he asked, his voice quieter now, smaller.
I saw Angel’s expression shift, the edges of that sadness creeping in before she could hide it. The look cut through me.
“Your mom thought it’d be cool for you to recover at the ranch,” I said, stepping in before the weight of the moment got too heavy. “There’s horses, chickens, cows… plenty of space to run around when you’re ready for it.”
Derek’s eyes lit up again, a spark of wonder breaking through the cloud of confusion. “Wow,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “And since they’re saying you might be in a wheelchair for a little bit, the ranch will give you all the space you need to move around. Speaking of which…” I leaned in slightly, dropping my voice like I was letting him in on a secret. “How do you want your room decorated, big man?”
His face practically glowed, his small hands gripping the blanket again. “I get my own room? Like… a real room?”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning right back at him. “Own bathroom too.”
His gaze darted to Angel, disbelief written all over his face like he needed her to confirm it. She nodded, her hand brushing gently through his curls again.
“Yeah, baby,” she said softly. “Your own room. However you want it.”
Derek’s smile could’ve lit up the whole damn room. It was the kind of joy that made every sleepless night, every hard conversation, and every step of this journey worth it. Angel’s soft laughter as she smoothed his hair made the moment feel even steadier, like it was all falling into place, one piece at a time.
“LED lights and Spider-Man,” Derek said softly, his voice still raspy but brimming with hope.
“Oh, you’re into Spider-Man? Classic choice.” I grinned, leaning in a little. “I think he’s dope too. You seen all the movies?”
“Yeah…” Derek hesitated, his smile faltering. “But… my dad says Spider-Man is stupid because he doesn’t have any real powers. Just the web.”
I froze for half a second, clenching my jaw as heat rose in my chest. Who the hell says that to a kid?
“Well,” I said, keeping my tone steady but firm, “I think Spider-Man’s one of the coolest heroes out there. He’s smart, he never gives up, and he’s always looking out for people. That’s a real hero if you ask me.”
Derek’s eyes flicked up to mine, his hesitation melting into curiosity.
“Matter of fact,” I added, leaning back slightly, “I got some Spider-Man collectibles in my game room. You like action figures? Posters? I’ll show you the whole setup when you’re at the ranch.”
His eyes widened. “You have a game room?”
“He does,” Angel chimed in, her voice warm, the edges of her smile soft with pride. “Anthony has all the video games.”
Derek’s grin spread slowly across his face, excitement bubbling just under the surface. “I can’t wait… to…” His voice caught, his little body tensing as he coughed lightly, struggling to push the words out.
Angel was at his side in an instant, her hand rubbing slow circles on his back as she whispered soft reassurances.
“You’re good, Big Man,” I said, leaning closer. “Take your time.”
He nodded, the tension easing out of his body as he leaned back against the pillows.
“I can’t wait to go to the ranch,” he finally managed, his eyes shining with quiet determination.
I smiled, the lump in my throat catching me off guard. “I can’t wait to have you there, Big Man. You’re gonna love it.”
Derek studied me for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “I recognize your voice.”
I froze, caught off guard. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah…” He hesitated, piecing the words together carefully. “You… you’re always here… with my mom.”
I glanced at Angel, who bit her lip nervously, her fingers twitching slightly like she wasn’t sure where to rest them. Then I looked back at Derek.
“That’s right,” I said softly, meeting his gaze.
Derek tilted his head, his little face scrunching up in that way kids do when they’re figuring something out. “You took care of her when I was sleeping?”
Angel’s breath hitched, and I saw her hand still for a moment in Derek’s curls.
“I did,” I said, my voice even but gentle. “Just till you got back. Hope that’s okay with you.”
Derek nodded slowly, his face serious, like he was giving me some kind of official approval. “Yeah… it’s okay. Thanks for taking care of my mommy.”
Angel let out a shaky breath, and I caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes, though she blinked them back quickly. The way she looked at me in that moment—soft, full of gratitude—felt like something you don’t put into words.
“It’s my honor,” I said simply, giving the boy a small nod. My chest tightened with something I couldn’t quite explain, something deeper than pride.
Derek’s serious expression cracked, a grin slowly spreading across his face. Then, with all the strength his little body could muster, he extended his hand toward me. A handshake.
I took his small hand in mine, giving it a gentle shake.
“You cool with me,” he said, his voice soft but carrying enough swagger to make me smile.
“Thanks, Big Man,” I said, matching his grin like it was the most natural thing in the world.
For a second, it felt like time slowed down. Angel sitting there with her hand resting protectively on her son’s head. Derek’s small smile aimed right at me. The steady hum of the machines fading into the background.
This was different. This wasn’t just stepping up—it was stepping in. Fully.
My phone buzzed again, another call from that damn unsaved number I had no intention of answering. I quickly pressed ignore then blocked it. My focus stayed exactly where it needed to be.
This wasn’t about distractions or what I left outside these walls. This was about solidifying something real. Building something with Angel—officially—and creating a bond with her son that nothing could break.
The next phase of Derek’s recovery was coming, and so was the next chapter for all of us. And this time?
I wasn’t just helping.
I was all in.
No denial.
There was no way Angel was coming home tonight, and I already knew she wasn’t leaving in the morning either. Not with DJ awake. She wasn’t gonna budge, and I wouldn’t dare ask her to. She needed to be there with him.
The ranch felt quieter than usual when I got back. It wasn’t the bad kind of quiet, but the kind that reminded you how big a place could feel when it was just you. That quiet never bothered me before. Most days I preferred it.
But with Angel having been here the past couple of weeks, the silence now felt... different. The place already felt emptier without her. I found myself wondering how much more alive it’d feel once DJ was here too.
I wasn’t planning on staying long. Just enough time to pack Angel a bag so she could shower and do whatever she needed to feel a little more human while she camped out at the hospital.
I had my mom on speaker as I moved between Angel’s room and her en suite bathroom, grabbing her clothes and all the little bottles and tubes she kept in there. Lotions, sprays, oils—half of this stuff, I didn’t even know what it was for. I just knew she used it all.
“Make sure the clothes you’re packing actually make sense, Anthony,” Mama Harris warned, her voice crackling slightly over the speakerphone like she was giving me marching orders.
“I just bought her a bunch of those matching sets,” I said, chuckling as I pulled a pair of brown leggings out of her drawer. “That’s making it easy for me. I’m sticking to those.” I folded the leggings neatly with the top that went with them, the fabric soft under my fingers.
“Good,” she said, her tone softening just a little, like she was letting herself approve. “You can’t be having that girl out there mismatched, looking crazy. You want her to feel put together, even if she’s at the hospital.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, smirking to myself as I opened one of Angel’s drawers and spotted a stack of folded sports bras. I hesitated for a second, then grabbed a black one that looked comfortable.
“And don’t forget her toiletries,” Mama Harris added. “Women can’t go a day without all their little things—hair stuff, face stuff, whatever she uses. You don’t want her feeling like she’s missing anything.”
“I’m already on it,” I said, walking back to the bathroom. I swept my gaze over the counter, spotting her moisturizer and a jar of that thick, creamy stuff she put on her curls. I grabbed them both and added them to the bag, along with her toothbrush and a silk bonnet I found hanging off the corner of her vanity mirror.
“Hmm,” Mama hummed, and I could picture her nodding, satisfied but still keeping me on my toes. “Good. You know what you’re doing.”
“I try,” I said, smiling faintly. I zipped the bag up and set it on the bed before heading back to the bathroom to double-check.
“Anthony?” she said after a beat, her tone quieter now.
“Yeah?”
“I know I don’t have to tell you this, but… you’re doing the right thing for that girl. For her and her son.”
I paused, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, my fingers brushing absently over the edge of the vanity. “I know, Ma.”
“And don’t forget to take care of yourself too, baby,” she added. “You can’t pour into them if you’re running on empty.”
I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
“Anthony Harris, you’re my son. Worrying about you is my full-time job,” she shot back, a small laugh in her voice now.
“Alright, alright,” I said, grinning. “I hear you.”
“Good,” she said again, her tone a mix of firmness and affection, the way only my mother could pull off. “Now, get that bag to her, and tell her I’m praying for that boy. And for her.”
“I will,” I promised, slinging the bag over my shoulder. “Thanks, Ma.”
“And we’ll be up there soon,” she added, her voice softening just a touch, “as soon as they’re comfortable having visitors.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m just trying to give them a minute to get adjusted first. Let it all sink in.”
“Understood,” she said. Then, after a beat, “Love you, baby.”
“Love you too,” I said, the words coming easily, naturally.
I ended the call and stood there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around me. My gaze wandered across the room—her room now, even though she hadn’t spent a single night sleeping in here.
Her clothes were in the closet, hanging neatly next to the suits and shirts I barely wore. A couple of my books, ones she’d said she wanted to read, sat stacked on the nightstand. The candles caught my eye—ones I’d watched her pick up and smell at Westonberry Market before shaking her head and putting them back. She’d probably thought they were too expensive, but I’d grabbed them anyway when she wasn’t looking and tossed them in the cart.
This room, a room that had been empty and practically forgotten, was starting to feel like her. Starting to become her.
I leaned against the doorframe, letting the thought roll over me. For a second, I pictured her here for real. Moving in fully, her things spilling into every corner of my house, not just this room.
I thought about her in my bed, about making love to her right there, waking up with her beside me, tangled in sheets that smelled like her skin. The image settled in my chest, warm and heavy. A future that felt more like a promise than a daydream.
Beep.
The sound snapped me out of it. My front door beeped, signaling someone had just unlocked it.
My instincts kicked in as my hand went straight to my hip, drawing for the gun I always kept on me—except for when I went inside the hospital.
Only a few people had the code to my door.
I ran through the list in my head: I’d just gotten off the phone with Mama Harris, and Pop was there with her. They were home.
Angel was at the hospital.
The guys didn’t have the code. That only left one person.
But they wouldn’t dare use it without my consent—never had. They wouldn’t switch up now, at least, that’s what I told myself as I moved toward the living room, my gun steady in my hand, aimed at the front door.
I turned the corner, my pulse hammering in my ears, and when the door swung open, I froze.
I’d been wrong.
And in that moment, it all clicked.
This was why God wouldn’t let Angel give me a clear yes today. Because He knew the truth about me, even if I kept trying to outrun it. Beneath the man who carried everything for everybody, who cared for Angel and DJ, there was another version of me.
The broken one. The flawed one.
A man with a weakness I couldn’t outrun.
Bishop called me Superman, but even Superman had his kryptonite—and mine was standing right here, staring me in the face. No matter how many times I ignored the calls, blocked the numbers, or swore to myself I’d never look back, it didn’t matter.
Because here it was, proof that some weaknesses don’t just disappear, no matter how much you want them to.
Her voice cut through the air, sharp and familiar. “Can’t speak?”
Keisha.
Is Anthony about to piss me off? *slathers face with Vaseline*