03. Anthony’s Angel
Chapters from Derek’s Destiny you might want to reference (not totally necessary, but they’ll give you a fuller picture):Derek and Johnathon’s AltercationToy Drive Day (from Derek’s POV)Derek’s Altercation At The Party When He’s 16 Years OldDerek Getting Arrested At 16
Trigger Warning (may contain spoilers):
This chapter contains mature and sensitive content, including depictions of an unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion, emotional conflict, and themes of parental responsibility. It also includes descriptions of a traumatic car accident, a child being critically injured, and intense moments of grief and despair. These themes may be upsetting for some readers. Please proceed with caution and take care of your mental and emotional well-being. If you feel triggered at any point, it’s okay to step away or seek support.ANTHONY HARRIS
Back In The Day…College.
“You’re such a bad influence on me, Key,” I murmured into her mouth, my words muffled by the slow, heated kiss she pressed against me. Her hips rolled, deliberate and steady, grinding on my length like she had all the time in the world.
“I need you,” she moaned softly, her breath cool against my neck, her words a confession and a demand all at once.
“I got a big game tomorrow,” I groaned, the words slipping out almost against my will as my nails sank in her ass. My body had already betrayed me, moving with hers, chasing the fire she’d started. “I gotta rest up.”
She laughed, soft and knowing, her hands sliding over my chest, her touch igniting sparks everywhere she lingered.
“That’s why I’m doing all the work, Ant,” she whispered, her voice smooth and teasing. “Just lay back and let me get mine.”
“Oh, so just fuck me, huh?” I said, half-laughing, half-melting under her.
“That’s what I’m tryna do,” she smirked, that mischievous grin on her lips daring me to resist. Like I ever could.
The room around us felt small, but not in a suffocating way. More like it held us in, concentrated everything between us. My dorm was nothing special—my twin bed shoved against one wall, sheets so thin you could see through them if the light hit right. The walls were lined with posters of my heroes—Michael Jordan, Muhammad Ali, and a Tupac poster that was more tape than paper from years of being moved and rehung. My textbooks were piled haphazardly on the desk. The faint smell of sweat, cheap cologne, and cafeteria spaghetti lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hint of her perfume—sweet and sharp, like her.
Keisha Kennedy. Even now, just her name still felt like a bruise on my soul—tender but impossible to ignore. We’d met during freshman orientation while trying to find out way, her wit and runway-model looks making it impossible for me to focus on anything else.
She was beautiful in a way that didn’t make sense at first, the kind of beauty that caught you off guard and made you look twice—then a third time, just to be sure your eyes weren’t lying to you. Long legs that seemed to stretch forever, slanted eyes sharp enough to cut through every excuse and defense I ever had, and a smile that could light up a room—or burn it down, depending on her mood.
In Juniper, I’d seen pretty girls, sure, but Keisha? She was something else entirely. On Westonberry State’s campus, where I was already drowning in the sheer number of faces and names, she stood out like a neon sign on a dark street.
The first time we spoke, we were lost, wandering between buildings with no sense of direction. She’d laughed when I admitted I couldn’t tell north from south, and that laugh—it stayed with me. We bonded over being freshmen fumbling through our first week, sharing quick facts about ourselves and comparing classes, our schedules overlapping just enough to make it easy to keep running into each other.
It didn’t take long for us to become fast friends. And even less time to become something more.
She was the first girl I ever told I loved. The words left my mouth like they were meant for her and her alone, and when she said them back, I felt untouchable. Keisha Kennedy. Just saying her name gave me a kind of pride I didn’t even know I could feel.
Back then, I thought I’d never love anyone else.
She wasn’t just my girl—she was my world. The one who made the chaos of college feel manageable. When cafeteria food wasn’t cutting it, she’d show up with takeout or something she cooked in her dorm kitchen, cursing at the tiny stove but smiling like she knew she’d saved my day. When my grades were slipping, she’d sit with me for hours, breaking down chapters I hadn’t bothered to read. After football games, when my body felt like I’d been run over, she’d rub my shoulders, her touch erasing every ache like magic.
She looked out for me in ways nobody ever had. Slipped me a couple dollars when my pockets ran dry, no questions asked. And when the weight of everything—school, football, family—got too heavy, she’d pull me close, kiss me slow, and somehow make it all feel bearable.
With Keisha, I was better. Stronger. She made me believe I could take on anything, like I was invincible with her by my side. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much later—because back then, I was stupid enough to believe we were unbreakable.
I’d never met a girl like her—someone who could love me fiercely in one moment and completely ruin me in the next, all without saying a word. She knew exactly what I needed before I even knew myself. With her, every touch, every moment, was electric. She wasn’t just a lover; she was a storm I couldn’t escape, and I didn’t want to.
And man… Keisha knew how to fuck.
“Mmmmmm Ant,” she teased, but her voice was breathless, her control slipping.
I grabbed her hips, my grip firm as I flipped the script, driving up into her with a steady rhythm. I needed her to hurry up, to finish, because as much as I was enjoying this, she had to get out before Coach started his curfew rounds.
“Damn, baby,” she whimpered, her nails digging into my shoulders. “You’re so big. So big…”
“Shhh,” I hissed, cutting my eyes to the other side of the room where Bishop lay sprawled in his bed. His back was turned, the blanket pulled up just enough to hide his face, but I couldn’t tell if he was knocked out or just playing possum. Knowing him, it could go either way.
Having one of my childhood best friends on campus with me was a blessing most of the time. Bishop kept me grounded, made sure I didn’t get too big for my britches with all the NFL talk, and had my back like he always did. But moments like this? Inconvenient as hell.
Keisha bit her lip, stifling a laugh as she moved on top of me, her curls bouncing like she didn’t give a damn who was lying three feet away. I gripped her hips tighter, my jaw clenching as I tried to keep us both quiet. “You gon’ wake his ass up,” I muttered, my voice low but firm, laced with a mix of frustration and amusement.
She leaned down, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath warm and teasing. “Then maybe you should focus on keeping me quiet,” she whispered, her voice so soft it sent a shiver down my spine.
I sucked my teeth, shaking my head, my hands guiding her, matching her rhythm. Bishop’s steady breathing filled the room, a reminder that we weren’t alone, but that didn’t stop her. It never did.
That was one thing about Keisha—she didn’t care about boundaries. She didn’t care about rules. When she wanted something, she went for it. And right now, she wanted me.
I leaned forward, pressing my lips to hers, muffling the sounds threatening to spill out of her. My hands tightened on her hips, and I started moving harder, faster, taking control of the moment, needing her to stay with me—quiet, but present.
Her body reacted instantly, trembling in my hands as her control unraveled, piece by piece. Her whimpers slipped past my lips, soft and desperate, her fingers digging into my shoulders like she was holding on for dear life. The bed creaked under us, as I pulled her down to lay flat on my chest while I held her place.
“Ant,” she whispered, her voice shaky, barely holding back a cry. Her body pressed tighter against mine, fitting like we were meant to be here, in this moment, as if nothing else in the world existed.
“I know, I know,” I murmured, my voice low and strained, feeling her unravel on top of me. “Just stay quiet for me. I need you to do that, okay?”
She shook her head against my chest, her curls brushing against my skin, wild and soft. Then, she started moving with me, her rhythm matching mine, pulling me deeper into her. I stared at the cracked ceiling, focusing on her, holding her together as her gasps grew sharper, her body trembling with the force of everything building inside her.
And then she broke.
Her climax hit her like a tidal wave, shaking her so hard I thought she might fall apart in my arms. Her breath caught, the scream she wanted to let out stuck in her throat, her whole body trembling as I held her tight. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I kept moving, kept her with me, my arms wrapped around her like I could protect herself.
My own release slammed into me as hers finished, hitting like a freight train, fast and unrelenting. I clenched my jaw, forcing down the roar clawing its way up my chest, swallowing the sound because I couldn’t afford to let it out. My body jerked one last time, and then it was done.
The room fell into silence, broken only by the sound of our heavy, ragged breaths. The tension that had wrapped itself around us melted away, leaving a strange stillness in its place.
She whimpered softly, her body going slack against mine. I felt the damp heat of her tears on my chest, and it hit me like a punch to the gut. She was crying.
I didn’t say a word. I just held her close, my arms wrapped around her like I could shield her from whatever was clawing its way out of her. Her tears soaked into my skin, and I felt the weight of them settle in my chest, heavy and unrelenting.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head without thinking, the action automatic, like my body already knew what she needed. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she melted further into me, her hands clutching at my sides like she was afraid to let go.
I tilted her head up gently, making her look at me. Her teary eyes met mine. I gave her a small smile, my thumb brushing the wetness from her cheeks before I kissed her, slow and tender, like I was trying to tell her everything I felt without saying a word.
“I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you, Anthony,” she whispered, her voice trembling, but her words hit deep, solid and real, making my chest tighten.
“I love you, Key,” I murmured back, my thumb grazing the curve of her jaw, lingering like I didn’t want to let go. “You gon’ marry me one day?”
“Of course,” she giggled.
We kissed again, her lips warm against mine, but when I pulled back, there was something in her eyes I couldn’t ignore. Something heavy, like she was carrying more than she was ready to say.
“Why you crying?” I asked, my voice low, calm, trying to meet her where she was.
She shrugged, her hands tracing slow, lazy patterns on my chest, her body still pressed close to mine. “I just... sometimes I get overwhelmed with how much I love you, is all.”
“And?” I pressed, knowing her too well to let her dodge the rest. Keisha didn’t cry for no reason.
She let out a deep breath, her fingers stilling, her shoulders rising and falling like she was gearing up to fight something she couldn’t name. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, squeezing tight before they opened again, locking onto mine.
“Before I tell you this...” She stopped, the words snagging like barbed wire in her throat.
“Key,” I said, my hands framing her face now, the worry creeping into my voice. “What is it?”
“I’m pregnant,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush, like she couldn’t hold them back anymore.
The air in the room shifted. Thickened.
“Oh shit!” Bishop’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade, his head popping up from the other side of the room. His eyes were wide, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away—his nosy ass hadn’t been asleep at all.
“You serious right now?” I snapped, my head whipping toward him so fast it could’ve cracked. “I thought you was asleep.”
“I mean… y’all weren’t exactly quiet,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. That smirk of his stretched wider, the gold in his tooth catching the dim light of the lamp. “You ‘bout to be a Daddy? Man, Mama Harris gon’ beat yo big ass!”
Keisha let out a groan, pulling the sheet higher over her chest like it could hide her from the embarrassment. I clenched my teeth, my hands balling into fists, but I didn’t move. The nerve of this dude.
“Mind your damn business, Bish,” I barked, my tone sharp enough to wipe the grin off his face—for a second, anyway.
He leaned back against the headboard, lacing his fingers behind his head like he had all the time in the world to sit here and be an asshole. “Ain’t my fault y’all turned this dorm room into Freaknik while I’m over here tryna get my beauty sleep.”
“Man, shut up!” I snapped.
Bishop grinned wider, his eyes darting between us. “Aight, aight. I’m just saying. Mama Harris finds out? She gon’ light yo ass up like a Christmas tree.”
The weight of his words hit me, heavier than his teasing tone suggested. I could already hear my mom’s voice giving me the kind of lecture that would make my ears burn. But I couldn’t think about that right now.
“Bish,” I said, my tone low and dangerous, “if you don’t shut the hell up and lay back down, we gon’ have a problem.”
He held up his hands in surrender, finally letting the smirk fade. “Aight, I’m done. I’m done. Damn, y’all sensitive. Congrats by the way.”
He flopped back down on his bed, muttering something under his breath, but I didn’t pay him any mind. My focus was back on Keisha, who was sitting stiff and quiet, her fingers twisting the edge of the sheet in her lap.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, trying to make sense of the chaos spiraling around me. The weight of it pressed down hard, too much, too fast.
“Keisha…” I started, my voice softer now, my mind still trying to catch up with everything she’d just dropped on me.
“Ant, please don’t be mad at me…we’re not the most careful,” she cut in, her words rushing out like she was bracing for impact. “We didn’t even use a condom just now.”
“And I know you shot that club up just now! Pull out game weak as hell!”, Bishop chimed in, turning back around to face us, his grin wide and infuriating, like this was all a joke.
“Man, shut the fuck up!” I snapped, my frustration boiling over, my eyes burning holes into him until he fell silent, the smirk fading.
Keisha’s voice pulled me back. It was steady, but her words cut sharp. “I know what it is, Ant, and I’m going to get an abortion. Don’t worry about it.”
Her words sliced me open,, knocking the breath out of me. She said it so matter-of-fact, like the decision had already been made, like she’d been sitting with this for weeks, and I was just now being looped in.
“How the fuck you decided that?” I snapped. It was louder than I meant it to be, but I couldn’t help it. The weight of her words, her decision, was pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Of course, I know what it is,” I continued, my tone softening but no less intense, my eyes locking onto hers. “You not some random, Key. We been together a long time. I love you, you love me. You said you wanna marry me. So why wouldn’t we have this baby and just fast-track our plans?”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, her eyes filled again, brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. Her hands clutched the sheet tighter around her body, like it could shield her from everything I was saying.
“Ant, we’re in college. You know my parents are going to make me go to grad school when I’m done here. I’ll be in Boston, at my father’s alma mater. You think I can do that with a baby?”
“I don’t give a fuck about Boston!” I snapped, my voice rising. “We made this baby, Key. We love each other. We’re having it.”
Her laugh was bitter, cold. “You think love is enough to raise a baby? You don’t even have any money, Ant.”
“I’ll get it!” I shot back, my voice loud enough to fill every corner of the cramped dorm room. Desperation crept into my words, thick and undeniable. “I’ll do whatever I have to. I’ll handle mine, Keisha. You know that.”
She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. Instead, she met my eyes, her gaze steady but tinged with something cold, something unyielding. “Anthony, I have career goals. Things I wanna do. I’m not trying to be tied down with a kid right now,” she said, her voice calm but laced with frustration.
Her words hit me square in the chest, but anger was quick to follow. I sucked my teeth, shaking my head. “You don’t think about none of that shit when you asking me to take the condom off.”
She winced like I’d slapped her, but her resolve didn’t crack. “It was irresponsible of us,” she said, her tone sharp, slicing through the tension.
“Well, I take care of my responsibilities,” I said, my voice steady, deliberate, each word a weight I’d been carrying for years. “Always have.” My mind flashed to all the times I’d stepped up for my family—the sacrifices, the silent burdens I never let anyone see. That’s what I did. That’s who I was.
Yeah, it wasn’t the best time to have a baby. But it was happening, and I wasn’t about to run from it—especially not with her.
Keisha’s shoulders sagged, her body language screaming exhaustion, but her voice stayed steady, sharp. “Don’t you have things you wanna do, Ant? Things you wanna accomplish?”
What could I say to that? Of course I had dreams. Goals. But none of that mattered right now.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said finally, my voice low but firm, each word falling like bricks, solid and immovable. “This is what we made, Keisha. We can’t just turn our backs on that.”
She started to open her mouth, but I kept going, my tone gaining strength, like I needed to convince both of us. “God willing, I’ll be in the NFL this time next year anyway. It’s all gonna work out. Money won’t be an issue. Nothing will.”
My eyes started to sting, the burn creeping in as I fought to keep it together.
“Keesh,” I said, my voice low, steady, but trembling at the edges. “You know me. I don’t fold. I don’t run. I take care of mine.”
I paused, my throat tightening as the weight of what I was about to say settled over me. Slowly, deliberately, I placed my hand against her flat stomach, my palm pressing against her skin.
“And this?” I said, my voice breaking just enough to let the vulnerability slip through. “This is mine. Ours. We can do this.”
Her gasp was quiet but sharp, her eyes locking onto my hand like it was the first time she truly understood what we were talking about.
I leaned closer, my hand still pressed against her stomach, like I could will her to see what I saw. “Please, Keesh,” I pleaded, my tone softer now, but no less desperate. “We can figure this out. Together.”
Her eyes filled with tears, spilling over before she could stop them. She didn’t speak, just shook her head, her body trembling with the weight of her emotions.
“You don’t get it,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the edges. “It’s not just about money, Ant. It’s about my life. My future. This baby changes everything, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
The words hit like a gut punch, but I stood my ground. “You ain’t gotta be ready,” I said, my voice steady, unyielding. “Doubt our parents felt ready either.”
“Ant, you’re not listening,” she said, her voice cracking at the edges. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. My body. My future. You don’t have to carry this, but I do.”
I looked at her, really looked at her. The tears brimming in her eyes, the way her hands trembled as she gripped the sheet. She was fighting a battle I couldn’t fully understand, but that didn’t mean I was going to stand down.
“We made this together, Keesh,” I said, my voice softer now, but no less determined. “We gon do this together. I’m not going nowhere. We can have this baby and still do everything we talked about.”
She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say, Ant. You don’t have to wake up in the middle of the night. You don’t have to put your life on hold. You don’t—”
“I will,” I cut her off, my words sharp, final. “Whatever it takes, I will.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Ant,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I didn’t have an answer to her doubts, didn’t have a solution to the impossible choice in front of us. But I knew one thing for sure.
“I can,” I said, my voice steady, unwavering. “And I’ll be here, every step of the way. You’re not in this alone, Keesh. Not now. Not ever.”
Keisha stared at me, her expression unreadable, her eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t name. And across the room, Bishop—my boy since we were kids, the one who always had a comeback locked and loaded—sat up on his bed, quiet for once. His usual smirk was gone. He wasn’t just watching; he was studying. Like he’d been invited into this conversation, like he had a front-row seat to my life cracking wide open.
And then it hit me—the look in his eyes. Pity. He felt sorry for me.
That realization twisted in my chest, sharp and ugly. He thought I was losing this battle before I even realized the fight had started. The pity in his gaze burned, but what stung worse was the quiet truth I didn’t want to admit—he might’ve been right.
“We can’t have this baby, Ant,” Keisha said, her voice cracking under the weight of her own words. Tears spilled over, carving slow tracks down her face, but her eyes didn’t waver.
“Yes, we can,” I said, firm, final, leaving no room for argument.
“Ant, you’re in shock,” she shot back, her tone harder now, tinged with a resolve that hit me like a gut punch. “And I decided what to do with my body before I told you because I didn’t want you influencing my decision.”
“Then why the fuck did you tell us for?” Bishop’s voice cut through the tension like a brick through a window. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes bouncing between us like he was refereeing a fight he had no business being in.
Keisha snapped her head toward him, her grip tightening on the sheet like it was armor. “He has a right to know,” she said, her voice trembling but sharp enough to draw blood. “I didn’t want to keep it from him.”
She looked at Bishop like he was out of line for even speaking, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression—guilt, maybe.
I let out a long, hard breath, dragging a hand over my face as I tried to sort through the mess crashing down around me. But her words—they lit something in me, something hot and raw, something I couldn’t keep in check.
“Keisha,” I said, my voice low and steady, but with a razor-sharp edge that even I could feel. “I’m telling you right the fuck now—if you go down to that abortion clinic, I’m done with you.”
Her eyes widened, the tears freezing on her cheeks as she stared at me like I’d slapped her. “Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said,” I replied, my gaze locked on hers, unflinching.
“Anthony, you can’t take care of a baby,” she fired back, her voice rising as she scooted further up the bed, pressing herself against the headboard like it could shield her. Her hands clenched the sheet so tight her knuckles went white. “Be real. You don’t even have enough money for a new pair of cleats, and you think you’re ready for a child?”
“I take care of my responsibilities, Keisha,” I snapped, my own voice climbing, the frustration boiling over. “If we made a baby, we’re having it. Period.”
Her shoulders squared, her back rigid with anger, but her eyes gave her away—there was fear there, too. “I’m the one who has to carry it, Ant,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “I’m already sick, missing classes. What happens when I get bigger? When I get more sick? When the baby’s here, crying at 3 a.m. while you’re at practice or traveling for games?”
“We’ll figure it out, just like everybody else does,” I shot back, my words coming fast and hot, tumbling out before I could stop them.
Her laugh was sharp and bitter, cutting through the room like a knife. “That’s not a plan, Ant. That’s hope. And hope isn’t enough.”
Before I could get another word out, my phone buzzed on the desk. The vibration rattled the wood, sharp and insistent, like it already knew I wasn’t ready for whatever was coming next.
I snatched it up, and the name on the screen hit me like a gut punch.
Destiny.
Derek’s girl. Calling me in the middle of the night? That was never good. My stomach dropped, twisting into knots before I even answered. Goddamn it. More stress. Just what I needed. But when did I ever get a break? Whatever it was, I’d handle it. I always did.
“What happened?” I answered, my voice tight, already bracing for impact.
“Ant!” she cried, her voice frantic and barely holding together. “The cops—they took him away!”
Her words came out in a flood, fast and jumbled, crashing over me like waves I couldn’t dodge. “He came to the party, and then we went to the pool, and this kid—he tried—and they just took him—”
“Des, slow down,” I snapped, trying to cut through the chaos. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Derek got arrested!” she sobbed, the crack in her voice sharp enough to draw blood.
My chest tightened, the words hitting harder than I expected. Arrested. Fuck. My little brother was trouble, always had been. He didn’t just step on toes—he stomped on them, spit on them, dared you to do something about it. Without even knowing the details, I could already guess. He probably put his hands on somebody, maybe took it too far this time. How far?
“Where’s he at?” I asked, already grabbing my boxers with one hand, the phone clenched tight in the other.
“Downtown Juniper PD, I’m guessing,” she said, her words breaking apart like she was barely holding herself together.
I blew out a breath, my mind racing. Mama Harris was gonna lose it. Small as she was, she’d beat both our asses without a second thought at this type of news. A baby and an arrest? Hell, I’d be lucky to survive the week.
“I’m coming to get you. Text me your address,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos swirling around me.
“Okay,” she whimpered, her crying still echoing in my ear as the line went dead.
“What’s going on?” Bishop asked, his voice low, the tension in the room rising with each passing second.
I rubbed my temples, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a stack of bricks, each one heavier than the last. “D got arrested,” I said flatly, yanking a shirt over my head like I was suiting up for war.
“Jesus Christ,” Keisha muttered, already knowing the drill. “What did he do now?” Her voice carried that mix of frustration and exhaustion that only came from dealing with my brother’s antics for years.
“I’m about to find out,” I said, pulling on my shorts, the movement quick and sharp, like I could outrun the mess this night was becoming. “I’m gonna get Des first and figure it out from there. She’s scared—probably saw everything.”
Keisha didn’t even hesitate. She was out of bed in a flash, pulling on her clothes like she was gearing up for battle. Her movements were purposeful, no wasted motion, like she was preparing for the kind of chaos she’d already seen too many times.
“I’ll drive,” she said firmly as she got dressed. “And I’ll stay with Destiny while you deal with your brother. She doesn’t need to be alone right now.”
Her voice was steady, calm in a way that almost threw me. This was the woman I’d fallen for—ride or die, no questions asked. Even with everything going on between us, Keisha still had my back.
I nodded, zipping up my hoodie. “Aight,” I said, my voice low but grateful. “Let’s go.”
“Man, I’ll pray Coach don’t come through here tonight,” Bishop said, shaking his head as he watched me move like a whirlwind. “Don’t get caught out there, Ant.”
I didn’t respond. My mind was already ten steps ahead, running through what I’d say to D, how I’d deal with him, and how I was supposed to keep the rest of my world from crumbling around me…
“Ant!” My Pops’ voice cut through the haze, snapping me back to the present like a cold bucket of cold water.
I was standing in the middle of Freedom Park, right in the heart of my brother’s toy drive, my eyes locked on her like I was seeing a ghost. Keisha.
Time hadn’t just been kind to her—it had transformed her. She didn’t just glow; she radiated. That effortless kind of beauty that came from motherhood, from a life built steady and strong. A life that looked suspiciously like the one I told her I wanted with her.
Her hair was blonde now, cut into a sleek bob that framed her face like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. She moved through the crowd like she owned it, smiling, laughing, completely at ease in a way that twisted my gut.
And there she was, standing next to him. Curtis.
He was laughing it up with folks, their youngest baby tucked in the crook of his arm like a badge of honor. He looked every bit the family man, the kind of dude who got to live out the life I used to dream about.
Curtis. A name that still didn’t sit right with me, no matter how much time had passed. We went to school together, ran in the same circles. I knew him—too well. And yet, somehow, he’d ended up with the girl I swore would be mine forever.
How the hell did that happen? Even after all these years, after the explanations and the tears, it still didn’t add up.
I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to shift, but the image of her—the life she had—burned itself into my brain like a brand. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t shake it.
“The toy drive turned out good, huh?” Pops said, stepping up beside me, his voice easy, his smile proud as he scanned the crowd.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady enough to pass, though the knot in my chest said otherwise. “They pulled it together real nice. Press is here, too. Des doing her thing.” I forced a smile, glancing toward the cameras, then back at my brother, who was in his element. “By the time the sun goes down, everybody’ll forget about the controversy.”
I nodded toward D, watching him laugh and joke with the kids like he’d been born for it. The way they lit up when he handed them their gifts, it was like he was handing them hope wrapped in bright red bows. He had a way of connecting, of making people feel seen.
Despite everything—his mistakes, the headlines, the chaos he’d caused—D was good at this. Good at showing up when it counted.
D’s team had pulled this whole thing together ahead of his headlining performance at the annual Juneteenth Jubilee. He’d forced his way into the lineup like only he could—snapping his fingers and making the Mayor bend to his will—all for one reason: Destiny.
Destiny and D went way back. High school sweethearts everyone swore wouldn’t last. They said they were too young, my brother too reckless. And when D signed his deal and let fame go to his head, Destiny proved them right. She dropped him the second he started wildin’ out, and he hadn’t been the same since.
Now he was back in Juniper, trying to fix what he’d broken a decade earlier. But D’s love for Destiny wasn’t sweet—it was dangerous. It always had been.
He hadn’t been back home long before he was already knee-deep in shit he had no business touching. Not at his level of fame, not with the kind of wealth he had stacked. But that was D. Always moving like the rules didn’t apply to him, like he couldn’t lose.
Tapping Johnathon with his car was just the latest chapter in his long book of bad decisions. Some shit went down at the pharmacy—petty, stupid—and I’d tried to keep him off the dude, pulling him back when I saw that look in his eyes. But Johnathon? Man, he wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Running his mouth like he wanted to get hit.
D snapped. Lost it like he always did when it came to her. Destiny was his weakness, his Achilles’ heel. He didn’t think when it came to her—he reacted. And that reaction, more often than not, left chaos in its wake.
Because when it came to Destiny, my little brother didn’t have a shred of goddamn sense.
It reminded me of the first time he got arrested, back when he was 16. That night Destiny called me crying because he’d rolled up on a party she was at after her mom made them break up. Said D was a menace—and she wasn’t wrong.
He saw something he didn’t like at that party, and before anyone could stop him, he’d beaten some kid to a pulp and ran off with Destiny. That was the first time he got cuffed. And who did they call? Me. Not our parents. Me.
And now here we were again, with Lyman—Johnathon’s dad, Pastor Lyman—on TV running his mouth, calling for a cancellation of the Jubilee because of D’s lyrics and his “bad influence on the kids.” But that man didn’t give a damn about the kids. This wasn’t about morals. This was about ego. He was Johnathon’s father. His son couldn’t handle the fact that Destiny was back with Derek, and D was doing what D does best—stealing Destiny’s heart.
The toy drive, though, was a nice distraction. A save-face moment for D’s team, smoothing things over while reminding Juniper why they loved him in the first place. It was working, too. Kids were happy, parents were smiling, and D looked like he was having fun.
I glanced back at Keisha, her laughter cutting through the noise of the crowd like it had no business being here. She leaned into Curtis, her hand resting on his arm like she hadn’t shattered me once upon a time.
The fuck was she doing in Juniper? And why the hell was she at this event?
They lived in Westonberry. Curtis had bread, plenty of it. Enough to buy their kids anything they wanted without blinking. Her kids didn’t need no free toys from a drive in Juniper.
My jaw clenched as I watched her, my mind running circles around itself, trying to make sense of it. Maybe she was here for nostalgia’s sake. Or maybe Curtis had dragged her along, wanting to show her where he came from, remind her of his roots. But even that didn’t sit right.
This wasn’t Westonberry. This was my city. Juniper. My family. My brother’s event.
She didn’t belong here.
I forced myself to turn away, locking my focus back on the kids in line, their faces lit with excitement as they clutched their parents’ hands or bounced on their toes. That’s when I saw her.
The woman from the day before at the Utility Office.
She stood a few places down the line, her gaze fixed ahead as she shuffled forward with a little boy by her side. He clung to her hand. She had a son? A little brother? Maybe a nephew? From here, he looked like her—same skin tone, same curls, even the same way his eyes darted around, taking in everything like he was trying to understand it all.
They were almost at the front of the line now, her hand resting protectively on the boy’s shoulder as she crouched to speak softly to him. Her movements were gentle, full of a kind of care that made it hard to look away.
The memory of her rushed back—the way she’d bumped into me like she was moving through life in a hurry, the sadness in her eyes she couldn’t quite hide. Seeing her now, with the little boy close to her side, made something stir in me I couldn’t place.
Part of me wondered if I should step in, say something. But what would I even say? Hey, remember me? The guy you bumped into while your life looked like it was falling apart?
She must’ve felt it—felt the weight of my eyes on her—because suddenly, her head turned, and her gaze snapped to mine like she’d been waiting for this moment. Her eyes locked on me and just like that, the world around us fell away.
The crowd, the noise, the laughter—it all disappeared. It was just her and the boy standing there, and me on the other side of the park, caught like a deer in headlights.
My chest tightened, my breath hitching in my throat. Time didn’t just slow—it stopped, hanging in the air like it was waiting for me to do something, say something, be something.
But I didn’t. I froze. Couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All I could do was stand there, staring back at her like a fool.
Shit. Look away, Ant.
But I couldn’t.
“All the honeys got these damn kids with them,” DeShawn’s voice cut through, sharp and loud, pulling me back to reality like a slap across the face. “Little motherfuckers just ruining everything.”
With all the willpower I could muster, I turned my head toward him, breaking the spell. He was striding up, Jackson beside him, both of them carrying that same cocky swagger they’d had since the dawn of time.
“It’s a toy drive, dumbass,” Jackson fired back, his tone dripping with irritation. “Not a speed dating event.”
“Still,” DeShawn muttered, his hands disappearing into his pockets as his eyes darted through the crowd like he was searching for a rebound. Always scoping, always on the prowl, even when it didn’t make no damn sense.
I forced a laugh, shaking my head at their nonsense, but my heart wasn’t in it. My focus wasn’t on them—it couldn’t be.
Like a magnet, my eyes drifted back to the line, searching for her again. No matter how much noise they made, no matter how much they joked and talked shit, my attention wasn’t on their bullshit. It was on her.
And just like that, I was gone again.
She was at the front now. The little boy? He was putting on a whole performance. Looked like he was rapping, hitting moves that had D grinning like a proud uncle, his arms folded as he bopped his head along. People around them were pulling out phones, recording the moment, the energy in the park shifting into something lighter, more joyful.
And her? She stood there watching, her face glowing with pride, her smile so bright it hit me all the way from where I stood.
Had to be her son. The way she looked at him—like he was her whole world—there wasn’t any other explanation.
That smile, though. It hit different. Like it had the power to reach places inside me I hadn’t touched in years.
“Is that Keisha?” DeShawn asked, his voice loud enough to turn a few heads.
“Where?” Jackson said, leaning slightly to get a better look.
“Right there!” DeShawn pointed, no shame, his hand slicing through the air like a damn spotlight. “That is her ass. Damn, how many kids she got? Curtis shooting that shit up every chance he get.”
Jackson’s eyes flicked to me, quiet, gauging my reaction. Checking to see if I was good.
Me? My eyes were already back on the line, scanning for her. But she was gone. Damn, where’d she go?
“You straight?” Jackson asked low, his voice cutting through the noise around us.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I shot back, my tone sharper than I meant, my eyes darting around the park like a madman searching for that familiar head of curls.
“Ke—”
“Don’t give a fuck,” I cut him off, ending the conversation before it could start.
I didn’t need to talk about Keisha. But my chest was tight, and my eyes couldn’t stop roaming the crowd, looking for something I told myself I didn’t care about.
“Go Niecey! Go Niecey! Go Niecey!”
Reaper’s loud-ass voice boomed behind us, cutting through the chatter of the toy drive like a bomb went off. I turned around, already bracing myself for whatever foolishness he was up to now.
And sure enough, there he was, a few feet back, holding court like only Reaper could. Niecey was bent over, throwing it back like she was auditioning for a 2004 BET Uncut video, and Reaper? That fool was hyping her up, grinning wide and holding up a red Solo cup like it was a trophy while she was grinding on him.
The kicker? Bishop stood right behind him, bracing Reaper with both hands like a damn spotter at the gym, making sure he didn’t topple over under the force of Niecey’s enthusiastic twerk session.
The whole thing looked ridiculous, like a scene straight out of a throwback house party, only this time it was set to my brother’s hit song, “Earthquake,” blaring from the speakers. People nearby were either laughing or pretending not to see it while they covered their kids eyes, but I couldn’t unsee the mess even if I tried.
“Aye!” I yelled, throwing my hands up in frustration. “This is a family event!”
Reaper didn’t miss a beat, grinning like I’d just told him he won the lottery. “It’s a celebration, Ant! D brought the whole damn city out!”
“Come dance with me, Ant!” Niecey chimed in, flipping her hair over her shoulder and swaying her hips like she was in the middle of a music video audition.
I shook my head, biting back a laugh as I tried to keep it together. “Wrap that freaky shit up and save it for the crib,” I told them, glancing around. The kids seemed oblivious, too busy chasing balloons or waiting in line for toys, but the parents? They weren’t blind. A few of them were side-eyeing hard, their faces saying everything they didn’t need to.
I shot Jackson a look, hoping for backup, but he just smirked and shrugged like this was another Tuesday in Juniper.
Reaper, meanwhile, was doubling down, throwing his hands up like a preacher catching the spirit. “My wife throwing that ass in a motherfucking circle! Y’all see this? Look!”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as the ridiculousness of it all washed over me. “I can’t take y’all nowhere,” I muttered, shaking my head.
But deep down, I couldn’t even be mad. Reaper and Niecey were always gonna be Reaper and Niecey. For better or worse.
“Y’all still don’t know how to behave,” Pops said, shaking his head as he came to stand next to me again after disappearing a few minutes ago, Ma trailing right behind him with that look on her face. The one that could freeze a room.
“Bernice, pull your skirt down!” Ma hollered, her voice cutting through the music like a whip.
“Sorry, Mama Harris!” Niecey yelped, straightening up so fast it was like she’d been caught in church doing something unholy.
Ma didn’t stop there, though. She turned her attention to Bishop and slapped the back of his head with enough force to make him stumble.
“And look at you!” she barked, her eyes narrowing in disappointment. “You’re supposed to be the smart one!”
“Mama Harris, they’re grown and married,” Bishop said, rubbing the back of his head like he’d been wrongfully convicted.
“Don’t matter,” Ma snapped, pointing a finger at him before looking at all of us like we were still the little boys she used to wrangle up from every corner of the neighborhood. “Boys, come over on Sunday for dinner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we all mumbled in unison, not even thinking twice about it. Even Niecey, who stood there trying to look as innocent as possible, chimed in. She was included whenever my mama address “the boys”.
Ma gave us all a once-over, satisfied she’d restored some kind of order, before she turned to Pops. “Let’s go, William. I need to see what they got over at the bake sale tent.”
“Yes, dear,” Pops said, trailing after her like the devoted soldier he’d been for decades.
I glanced at Reaper and Bishop, who were both trying not to laugh, and just shook my head. “Y’all gon’ get us all disowned one day.”
“Please, you know Mama Harris loves us,” Reaper said with a grin, slapping me on the back. “She just gotta keep us in line. That’s her job.”
“Yeah, well, she’s got her hands full with y’all,” I muttered, turning my attention back to the toy line—and catching myself scanning for that head of curls again. Did she leave?
“Say, you gave any more thought to what we talked about?” Jackson asked, a sly smirk creeping onto his face like he couldn’t wait to light the fuse on some bullshit.
I rolled my eyes so hard it was a miracle I didn’t sprain something. I knew exactly where this was headed.
“Niggas starting a gang at 35 is crazy,” I said flatly, shaking my head before he could even get the words out.
“It’s not a gang,” Reaper cut in, walking up like he’d been waiting for his cue. “It’s a biker club. There’s a difference.”
“Right,” I said, dragging the word out with all the sarcasm I could muster.
“We just gon’ ride, do what we do, build some brotherhood, you know?” Jackson chimed in, dapping up Reaper like they’d already made matching leather jackets. “It’s called The Venom Reapers. Tell me that don’t sound hard.”
“Shit sounds stupid,” DeShawn muttered, shaking his head as he scuffed his sneakers on the pavement. “Gang banging’ with matching outfits and shit.”
Jackson ignored him, puffing out his chest like he was already the president of this so-called club. “We ain’t out here doing no wild shit, just riding and vibing. It’s about freedom, bonding.”
“Man, I can’t be affiliated with no damn gang. I work—” Bishop started, but before he could finish, the rest of us jumped in like a choir.
“At the mayor’s office!” we all said in unison, mocking his usual excuse.
Niecy, who’d been watching with a grin, burst out laughing. “Y’all really got this man’s whole script memorized.”
“Bishop always out here acting like he’s above us,” Reaper muttered, slinging an arm around Niecy like they were posing for a magazine cover. “Meanwhile, his ass was the first one to throw hands back in the day. Ask anybody—they’ll tell you.”
“And I retired from that life,” Bishop shot back, rubbing his temples like dealing with us was giving him a migraine. “Unlike some people.”
He then turned to Niecy, narrowing his eyes. “Niecey, you would think this shit is funny,” he snapped, throwing her a look that could cut glass. “You married your damn captor!”
“And did!” Niecy fired back without missing a beat, a sly grin spreading across her face as she leaned into Reaper, planting a loud, exaggerated kiss on his lips.
“I saw him in that ski mask, that body,” she said, her voice dripping with drama, “and I said, Self, that’s our husband.” She turned to Reaper, rubbing her nose against his like they were in their own little world. “And he does take such good care of me.”
“Crazy ass,” Bishop muttered under his breath, shaking his head and turning away. But not low enough for any of us to miss. “Like your fucking husband.”
Reaper grinned wide, like he’d just won a trophy and was about to give an acceptance speech. He slapped Bishop on the back, hard enough to make him stumble. “You just mad you ain’t got nobody.”
“Man, shut up,” Bishop muttered, rubbing his temples like dealing with us was his biggest trial in life.
I chuckled under my breath, shaking my head at the whole mess. My boys, the insanity they brought everywhere they went—it was annoying, sure, but it was home.
Even so, my eyes drifted back to the crowd, still searching.
“Man, stop looking for Keisha!” DeShawn’s voice cut through the noise like a bullhorn, drawing attention I didn’t need or want.
I sucked my teeth, annoyed and caught in the act. “Ain’t nobody looking for no damn Ke—”
“Keisha here???” Reaper interrupted, his eyes narrowing like a hunter spotting prey. Easing Bernice off him, he clapped his hands together. “Baby…hold on, I gotta get my gun.”
“Don’t even try to lie, Ant,” Jackson said, cutting me off before I could recover. His smirk was sharp enough to slice through my excuse. “Your neck been craning like a damn giraffe since you saw her.”
“Reap, don’t pull that shit out at a kids’ event,” Bishop chimed in, shaking his head like the only sane man in the room. “Bad enough you was out here dry-humping your wife in the middle of a field.”
“You helped me!” Reaper shot back, his voice indignant as he pointed an accusatory finger at Bishop.
“Man, y’all got me fucked up,” I said, my voice low but firm, crossing my arms like it would shield me from their bullshit. I wasn’t phased. I wasn’t.
Because I wasn’t checking for Keisha.
I was trying to find Curls.
“Sure, sure,” DeShawn said, laughing. “We just imagining things, huh? Your ass ain’t slick.”
“Y’all need to mind your damn business,” I muttered, but my eyes still darted back toward the toy line, scanning for her again. Not Keisha. The other one.
“See! He’s doing it again!” DeShawn crowed, pointing at me like a snitch.
“I ain’t looking for nobody,” I grumbled, the words barely out of my mouth when the sound of splintering wood shattered the air.
The fence.
I turned just in time to see Mr. House’s yellow Monte Carlo busting through the crowd, barreling toward the park at top speed. The engine roared like a beast unleashed, and the car wasn’t stopping.
It was chaos instantly. Parents grabbing their kids. People screaming and running in every direction, trying to get out of the way.
Then I saw him.
My fucking brother.
He was running full speed toward the car, his body aimed like a missile at the Monte Carlo’s trajectory. The car swerved, tires screeching as it headed straight for the group of kids and parents bottlenecking at the exit.
My stomach dropped. The screams were everywhere now, a chorus of panic and fear.
“Derek!” I screamed, my voice raw as I bolted toward him, adrenaline firing through me like a shot of lightning.
Time seemed to slow, every step stretching into an eternity as I watched him close the gap between himself and the car. He wasn’t stopping.
And neither was the Monte Carlo.
Mr. House had always been a problem. A walking disaster with a driver’s license he had no business holding. Anytime his wife went out of town, he’d pull that yellow Monte Carlo out of the garage like it was a trophy, joyriding through Juniper like the streets were his personal racetrack. Half the time, he’d clip a mailbox, nearly hit someone crossing the road, or skid up onto a curb. Folks in town used to laugh it off—called him “Mad Max in church shoes.”
But today, it wasn’t funny.
Today, the joke ran out.
The old man had a heart attack behind the wheel, his foot pressing the gas like it was searching for salvation. That Monte Carlo tore through Freedom Park, straight into the crowd. Mothers, kids, families scattered like ants under a dropped shoe. Screams. Panic. And then the impact.
I was pissed. Juniper PD knew Mr. House was out here taking joyrides like he was in Fast & Furious instead of a busted-ass Monte Carlo. Hell, I’d told Nate myself. I stood right in front of him down at the precinct, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “Handle this before something bad happens.”
And now? Here we were.
Bad had happened.
Now we were all packed into the hospital waiting room. Me. Derek. Ma and Pops. Destiny. Eden. Derek’s whole team.
The doctor came out, his face lined with exhaustion, like he already knew his words were going to crush somebody. He took a deep breath, the kind people take before delivering bad news.
“We’ve stabilized most of the injured,” he started, his voice measured but heavy. “Bumps and bruises for the most part—they’ll recover physically.”
He paused, and that pause hit harder than any words could have.
“But one…” His face tightened, like he was bracing himself. “One child was severely hurt. He’s in critical condition, even after surgery. It’s likely gonna be touch and go.”
The room went ice cold. Ma’s hand flew to her mouth, her gasp the only sound in the suffocating silence. Derek stiffened beside me, his fists clenching so tight I thought he might snap something. Destiny crumpled into his side, tears already spilling down her face.
Touch and go.
The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, and no one dared speak, like saying something would make it worse.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Pops said, his voice thick with emotion, the weight of the moment sitting heavy on his shoulders. “Just… keep us updated. Please.”
The doctor nodded, his expression somber but professional. “We’ll do everything we can,” he said. “I wish I could say more, but you understand…regulations limit what I can share.”
Derek stepped forward, his voice steady but cold, like a blade drawn slow. “Make sure I’m billed for everyone involved. I don’t want anyone worrying about hospital bills—just their recovery.”
Marcy, his manager, was right there beside him, already moving pieces into place. “Lead me to the right person, and I’ll take care of it,” she said, her eyes locking with mine for a brief moment. The look wasn’t pity—it was understanding. She knew exactly how heavy this burden was, how it settled on all of us but felt like it lived in my chest.
The doctor nodded again, giving us one last sympathetic glance before disappearing down the hall, the door closing softly behind him.
“We’ll get through this,” Pops said, his voice firm but laced with the exhaustion of a man who’d held this family together more times than I could count.
“We’ll handle the logistics, Derek. You focus on keeping everyone’s spirits up,” Marcy said, her voice calm and deliberate, like she’d done this a hundred times before.
“We’ve got to make sure they don’t have to worry about anything except getting better. That’s our job now,” Derek added, his tone resolute.
Destiny nodded, her voice soft but steady. “We’ll make sure those families know they’re not alone in this.”
“Yeah, we will,” Derek said, looking around the room. “But we’re gonna need all hands on deck.”
“Whatever you need, D. You know I got you,” Hakeem said, his voice like a promise carved in stone.
I glanced at him, my eyebrow lifting. I hadn’t even known his ass was in town until earlier, when I caught sight of him running alongside D’s chauffeured truck, his hand gripping the window like he was auditioning for an action movie. D, of course, was laughing his head off, making Hakeem keep up like it was a game.
That was Hakeem all over, though. Always showing up out of nowhere, like a shadow that trailed my brother no matter where he went. Wherever D was, Hakeem wasn’t far behind. The man was loyal to a fault, ride-or-die in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. But today? Today, I wasn’t mad about it.
I nodded. “We’re gonna make sure this town knows what real support looks like.”
Ma stepped forward, placing a hand on Pops’ arm, her touch soft but grounding. “We’ll talk to all the families,” she said. “Organize different ways to help them out.”
Pops nodded, pride and sorrow battling in his eyes. “This town’s been through a lot,” he said, his voice heavy. “But we’ve always come together when it counts. We won’t let these families face this alone.”
Suddenly, a piercing wail ripped through the fragile calm like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. The sound wasn’t just loud—it was alive. Raw. It clawed at the walls, at my skin, and burrowed deep into my chest. My blood turned ice cold.
I shot Derek a glance, and without a word, we moved. Footsteps heavy, hearts heavier, his security trailing close behind. The weight of whatever was waiting for us around that corner felt suffocating, but there was no stopping now.
When we turned the corner, I saw her. Curls.
No.
Her arm was in a sling, a bandage stretched tight across her cheek. Tears drenched her face, streaking red into her skin. She looked like she was breaking apart. Her cries bounced off the sterile walls, wild and uncontained, the kind of sound that didn’t just fill the room—it swallowed it whole.
“My baby!” she screamed, her voice hoarse, trembling. “I just need to see my baby!”
The nurse next to her looked helpless, her hands hovering like she didn’t know what to do with them.
The doctor stepped in, his face lined with exhaustion, his tone steady but firm, the kind of voice meant to corral chaos. “Ma’am, we’re doing everything we can. He’s finishing up in surgery right now.”
But his words didn’t land. They didn’t even touch her. Her grief was too big, too raw, consuming every bit of air in the room.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t just seeing her pain—I was feeling it. Like it was mine.
Her pain was tearing through her like it was trying to escape her body. She didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know where to put all that anguish. Her voice broke on another scream, high-pitched and ragged, and I could see it—she was about to lose it completely.
“Why won’t you let me see him?” she yelled, her desperation cutting through the air like shattered glass. “I need to see my son!”
“Ma’am, please, just listen to me,” the doctor said, his voice calm but useless against the storm she’d become.
She was going to swing on the nurse.
I didn’t even think. My feet moved before my brain caught up.
I rushed to her, wrapping my arms around her before she could completely unravel. Pulled her into me, held her tight, locking her in place with everything I had.
“Let me go! Let me go! I need my son!” she screamed, her voice like a blade slicing through the cold, sterile air of the hospital.
Her fists pounded against my chest, weak but relentless, her whole body trembling against mine. She was fighting me with everything she had, but I wasn’t letting go. Something deep inside me said she needed this—needed someone to hold on to, someone to anchor her when everything else was spinning out of control.
“I got you,” I whispered, my voice low and steady, cutting through her chaos. “I got you.”
I said it again and again, like a chant, like a prayer. Her fists slowed, her breathing hitching against my chest.
“Stop fighting me,” I murmured, my voice softer now, pressing my cheek to the top of her head. Her curls brushed against my skin, wild and damp with sweat. “I’m here for you. I’m gonna take care of you. I’m here now.”
The words came out like they’d been waiting for this moment, like they’d been planted deep inside me. I didn’t know where they came from, didn’t know why they felt so certain, so heavy, so true.
It was like something—or someone—had taken over my body. Like a force bigger than me had stepped in, shoved me forward, and whispered, this one is yours to carry now.
She started to calm down. Her sobs came slower, quieter, but she didn’t let go. Her hands clutched at the fabric of my hoodie like I was the only thing tethering her to the ground.
And maybe I was.
I didn’t know what I was doing—how to fix this, how to make any of it better. But as I stood there, holding her like the world depended on it, I realized it didn’t matter.
She was my assignment now. Whether I was ready or not.
Her body went slack in my arms, the fight draining out of her like a storm losing its wind. She clung to me, her fingers digging into my hoodie like I was the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss.
I held her tighter, rocking her gently, trying to steady the weight of her grief like my arms alone could absorb it. My brother stepped forward, his presence calmer now, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles on her back.
“We’re here for you,” D said, his voice low but cracked with the kind of emotion he rarely let show. “Whatever you need, we got you. We got Derek—whatever it is, you’re not in this alone.”
The name hit me like a brick. Derek? Her son’s name was Derek, too?
The doctor stepped closer, his white coat brushing against the sterile walls, his face caught between sympathy and that detached professionalism they teach them in med school. He spoke steady but soft, like he was breaking bad news to someone who’d already been broken.
“Derek is in critical condition,” he said, his words heavy, each one hitting like a hammer. “He suffered severe trauma to his chest and head. We’ve done everything we can, but the next few hours are crucial. Please be patient with us as we continue to work and do all we can for your son.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy, cutting through what little strength she had left. Her sobs grew quieter, almost silent now, her body trembling against mine like she was bracing for the worst.
“Why would this happen to my baby? Why, God?” she cried, her voice raw and full of a pain that hit me square in the chest.
My brother leaned in closer, his voice a quiet promise. “We’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “We’re right here, and we’re not leaving until we know he’s okay.”
She nodded weakly against me, her sobs quieting, though her tears still fell. She was unraveling in my arms, and I caught Derek’s eye, giving him a small nod. I didn’t say it, but I felt it—a sudden, unshakable duty to hold her together.
“Tell me your name,” I said softly, my voice gentle but steady.
“Angel,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her pain.
Angel.
Of course her name was Angel.
It fit her, in a way that almost hurt to think about. The way she clung to me, shattered but still standing, fighting through a grief so heavy it felt like it could crush us both. The way her voice cracked with desperation, but there was still something there—something strong, even if she didn’t know it yet.
I looked down at her, her head pressed against my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt. I tightened my hold, the name echoing in my mind.
Angel.
She felt so fragile in my arms, like if I let go, she’d fall apart completely. But at the same time, there was a fire in her grief, a fierce love that burned so bright it refused to be extinguished.
It wasn’t lost on me how fitting it was—her name, her strength, the way she was willing to fight for her son even when the world seemed stacked against her.
I caught Derek’s eye again, and he gave me a small nod, as if to say he understood what I was feeling even if I couldn’t put it into words.
Angel.
I whispered it in my mind again, like it was something sacred. Something I needed to hold onto, for her, for her son, for whatever was about to come next.
“Alright, Angel,” I said, grounding my words in the kind of calm I didn’t even feel. “We’re here for you and Derek. All of us. You’re not alone in this.”
But Angel shook her head, her voice trembling as she said, “I don’t…I don’t have nobody. It’s just me and my baby.”
“No, Angel,” I said, my voice firm but soft. “Look around. Everybody you see right now? We got you, okay? You’re not alone.”
She hesitated, her shoulders still tense, her breath shaky. Then slowly, she lifted her head, her red, swollen eyes scanning the room. My parents. Destiny. Eden. Derek’s team. They were all there, standing with us now, their faces etched with the same determination, the same quiet resolve.
Something in Angel shifted then. It was subtle but powerful, like a crack in the darkness letting in a sliver of light. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to spark something deep inside her—a flicker of hope, a moment of belief that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face this alone.
“Okay,” Angel whimpered into my chest, her voice barely audible but carrying a quiet strength. It wasn’t a declaration—it was a surrender. A tiny step forward, an acknowledgment that she didn’t have to carry this nightmare alone.
And in that moment, I realized I’d do whatever it took to make sure she didn’t have to.
Copyright © 2024 JT Westonberry. All rights reserved.
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What do you think Keisha's lingering presence in Anthony's life represents?
Do you think Anthony’s sense of responsibility is a strength, or does it hold him back? Why?
Keisha and Anthony have conflicting views on their unexpected pregnancy. Who do you empathize with more, and why?
In moments of crisis, Anthony seems to step up without hesitation. What do you think motivates him most—love, guilt, or something else?
What do you think Curtis and Keisha’s backstory is? How did their relationship come to be, and how might it clash with Anthony’s unresolved feelings?
How do you think the accident involving Mr. House will change the trajectory of Anthony and Angel’s lives?
If you were in Anthony’s shoes, juggling loyalty to family, unresolved love, and unexpected new responsibilities, what would you do differently?
How do you think Anthony's unresolved feelings about Keisha will impact his ability to move forward with Angel or anyone else?