26. Derek’s Destiny

HAKEEM

My hands were slick with sweat, the bouquet from the gas station feeling cheap and flimsy in my grip as I stood there, ringing the damn doorbell. I was trying to focus on anything but the fact that it was late as hell, and I had no business being here. The flowers weren’t much—shit, they were the best I could find in this little town at this hour—but they were something, a peace offering, maybe.

Truth had the whole town in their feelings after his set at the Jubilee, folks crying and hugging like it was a church revival. And somehow, that shit got to me, too. Got me thinking about Eden, about the way things went down between us, about how I couldn’t stop seeing her face every time I closed my eyes.

So here I was, standing on her doorstep at some unholy hour, my heart racing, not even sure what the hell I was gonna say. But I couldn’t sleep. Not with her on my mind, not with the way I left things hanging between us, not the way I saw her crying to Destiny earlier. Man, that shit hit different, even though I was frontin' like I didn’t care. As much as I kept telling myself to let it go, Eden was wearing me down, making me act all out of character.

The door swung open, and there stood a woman I recognized from the concert. Eden’s mom, looking irritated as hell, her eyes squinting at me.

"Who are you, and why are you at my door at this hour?" she asked, gripping her robe tight like she was ready to send me packing.

I cleared my throat, nerves twisting up in my chest. “Sorry, ma’am. I, uh, I need to see Eden.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought she might just slam the door in my face.

"You that Hakeem boy?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave, suspicion dripping from every word.

"Yes, ma’am," I answered, caught off guard that she knew my name.

She looked me up and down, and for a second, I swear I saw her smirk before she said, “I oughta take my husband’s AK and shoot you right here on my step. Bury you out back before breakfast.”

“Yo, what?” I stammered, caught between straight-up fear and confusion.

“Ma!” Eden’s voice cut through the tension, and she came to the door, her face filled with confusion and surprise. Her eyes landed on me like she was trying to figure out if she was dreaming or if I had really showed up at her house this late. “Hakeem? What are you doing here?”

I was thrown off my whole game. “Uh, I, um... I brought you these flowers,” I said, holding up the sad little bouquet like it was some grand gesture.

Her mom sucked her teeth, her eyes rolling so hard I thought they might get stuck.

“Mama, please,” Eden said, clearly embarrassed, “go back to bed. I got this.” She turned and gave her mother a look, one that said 'please don’t make this worse.'

Her mom, still glaring at me like she had her finger on the trigger, finally turned to Eden.

“The gun’s next to the bed. On your daddy’s side,” she said, throwing one last warning look at me before walking off, her robe swaying as she disappeared into the house.

I stood there, feeling like I just walked into the lion’s den with nothing but some gas station flowers as a shield.

“What are you doing here?” Eden asked, her voice low and guarded as soon as we heard her mother’s door click shut.

“I came to check on you. Make sure you’re good.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, her expression hard. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though I could feel the tension thick between us. “Things got kinda heavy toward the end of the show. I saw you getting teary-eyed when I was backstage.”

“So? Everyone was crying,” she said, her words sharp.

“Not me.”

“Yeah, they don’t give out hearts in The Bronx, apparently,” she snapped back, eyes narrowing. Her words cut, and I felt it, but I wasn’t about to let it show.

I held the flowers out, my pride hanging by a thread. “Ma, you taking these flowers or what?”

She snatched them out of my hand without a second thought and, without even looking, tossed them behind her. I heard them hit the floor, the sound of petals crumpling like my effort meant nothing.

“Real cute,” I muttered, watching the flowers fall into the shadows of the hallway behind her, wishing for a second I hadn’t even brought them.

Eden crossed her arms tighter, standing like she was daring me to even breathe wrong. Her eyes locked on mine, sharp and unforgiving, like she was building a wall brick by brick, and I wasn’t sure I could knock it down.

"Look," she said, her voice low but firm, "my Daddy been teaching me how to shoot since I was eight. So unless you got a real good reason for showing up at my door at 1 a.m. after I’ve been busting my ass for the Jubilee all day, you about to see how good my aim is."

I chuckled, but it was more nerves than anything. "Y’all Southerners and them damn guns. Crazy as hell. Ain’t nobody scared of you, Eden," I said, sucking my teeth like I wasn’t feeling the heat she was throwing my way.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, you scared of me, Hakeem. Don’t lie."

I took a step back, not because I was scared of her, but because I must’ve been too close, the way she was reading me like a damn book. How the hell she always saw through me like that?

"Look, I didn’t come here for all that,” I said, trying to shake off the tension in the air. “I know I messed up, said some shit I shouldn’t have. I ain’t got all the right words, but I couldn’t stand how we left things. Seeing you cry? That messed with me. And if I’m the reason…”

She cut me off, her voice colder than I’d ever heard it. "I’m still not understanding why you care, Hakeem."

Her words hit me like a gut punch, and I couldn’t even front. She had every right to ask. I’d been acting like I didn’t give a damn, pushing her away every chance I got, but deep down? Man, deep down I was scared of what she made me feel, scared of what it meant to actually want something real. But I couldn’t tell her that. Not yet.

“Look, this whole thing with Arnold and Johnathon—” I started, trying to shift the conversation, but Eden saw straight through that.

“Don’t act like this is about you protecting me from them,” she cut me off, her eyes blazing. “I’m not stupid, Hakeem. You’ve had security on me and Destiny. I pay attention, so I know I’m good. I see that man in the black car parked outside my house.” She pointed toward the street, the one spot where my guy had been posted up.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to play it off. “You Miss Cleo now? You got all the answers?”

“Apparently not, ‘cause I thought there was something between us,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “But you gaslit me, made me feel like I was imagining it. Like I’m some kinda fool.”

I felt her getting emotional, the tension between us thickening like a storm about to break, and I could already feel myself pulling back, retreating into the same defense I always did.

“Eden, don’t start that crying shit,” I muttered, refusing to look her in the eye, knowing full well I was the reason she was breaking.

Her voice cracked as she stepped closer, her words hitting like daggers. “You’re hurting me, Hakeem. You’re cutting me deeper than you know. I’m just reacting to how you’re treating me. You act like you don’t care, but I know you do. I see it but, you’re making me feel crazy.”

I could feel her words tightening around my chest, making it hard to breathe, but I couldn’t let myself fall for it. Couldn’t let her in, not the way she wanted.

“You makin’ this deeper than it is,” I said, trying to downplay everything, like I hadn’t already dug myself into a hole.

Eden wasn’t buying it. “I know what I know, Hakeem. And yeah, call me Cleo Jr. because I’m intuitive and I feel things deeply,” she shot back, stepping out of the house, closing the space between us. Even though she was shorter, she got right in my face, her energy making up for what she lacked in height. “Where I went wrong was thinkin’ you were a man who kept it real, who said what was on his mind. But you’re not. You’re a coward.”

Then she had the nerve to poke me dead in my chest, her tiny finger pressing against me like she was trying to break through my armor.

This little motherfucker.

I clenched my jaw, feeling the heat rise up in my chest, but I didn’t back down. She stood there, defiant, looking up at me like she was daring me to prove her wrong. Calling me a coward? That shit stung, but I couldn’t show it. Not now.

“Coward, huh?” I said, my voice low, tight with tension. “You think I’m scared of you?” I took a step closer, towering over her, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t move. That fire in her eyes just burned brighter.

“You scared of yourself,” she shot back, her voice sharp, cutting through all the bullshit I was trying to hide behind. “You scared of what happens if you actually let someone in, if you let someone care about you. You push me away ‘cause you think that’s easier.”

I opened my mouth to say something, anything to shut her down, but the truth in her words hung in the air between us, thick and heavy. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, her words hitting me harder than I wanted to admit.

“Eden, you don’t know me like that,” I said, trying to push the conversation away from the edge it was teetering on. But she wasn’t letting up.

“I know enough,” she said, her voice breaking just a little, but still strong. “I know you’ve been through shit, and I know you’re good at hiding it. But I see you, Hakeem. I see the man underneath all that tough talk. And it’s not the man you want people to believe you are. Just like you saw me, I see you.”

I looked away, couldn’t stand to see the raw truth in her eyes. She was reading me like an open book, flipping through pages I’d been trying to keep closed my whole life.

“I don’t need nobody in my life, Eden,” I said, my voice hard but hollow. “I’m good on my own.”

She shook her head, her voice softer now, but still filled with the same intensity. “No, you’re not. You’re just too scared to admit you need someone. And that’s the real coward shit.”

That hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She was breaking through every wall I’d spent years building, and I didn’t know whether to push her away for good or pull her in close.

“Now unless you gon’ stop bein’ a pussy, get off my damn porch,” she threatened, eyes locked on me, not a hint of fear in her voice.

I blinked hard. This girl just call me a pussy? Nah, couldn’t be. Eden, the quiet little church mouse, always rockin’ pearls like she was straight outta some Southern charm catalog? I thought she was soft, thought she wouldn’t dare step to me like that. But here she was, standing out here like she was ready for war.

Little mama was a straight gangsta and I didn’t see it comin’. She wasn’t just holding her ground; she was pushing back, hard. Like a pit bull with a bone—and I was the damn bone. She wanted me, and I kept playin’ this game, pulling back, thinking I could keep her at arm’s length. But Eden wasn’t built like that. She saw right through me, every wall I’d put up, every lie I tried to sell. And she wasn’t letting it slide. Not tonight. Not ever.

Truth is, I liked it.

We stood there, eyes locked, the tension between us thick like the air before a storm, crackling with something electric, something dangerous. Neither of us was budging, like we were in the middle of a street showdown. Both of us waiting for the other to blink, to flinch. But neither of us did. Too stubborn, too damn wrapped up in whatever this was between us.

Her lips curled in a disappointed smirk, her eyes hard as stone. “That’s what I thought,” she said, voice laced with disgust like she’d expected more from me and didn’t get it.

She turned to walk away, her back to me like she was done. But something snapped in me. I couldn’t let her leave like that, like I was just gon’ stand there and take it. Before I even thought about it, I reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back toward me.

And then I kissed her. It wasn’t soft or sweet—it was desperate, raw, everything I’d been holding back crashing out at once. Her lips met mine, and I could feel the heat, the anger, the frustration, all tangled up in that kiss. It wasn’t just about wanting her—it was about needing her, proving something, to both of us.

She stiffened at first, caught off guard, then melted into it, matching the fire I was giving her. We were two people on the edge, fighting and falling all at once.

I kissed her harder, like I was trying to erase every messed-up word, every time I pushed her away. The porch light flickered, shadows dancing across her face, but I could feel her heart beating with mine, synced up in a way that scared me.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing heavy, the air between us thick with something neither of us could name. Her lips were swollen, her eyes wide, like she was just as shocked by what had just happened as I was.

I licked my lips, still tasting her, heart pounding like I’d just run a marathon. I looked at her, eyes locked in, waiting to see what came next. The tension between us was thick, electric, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for one of us to make the next move.

“You lettin’ me inside, or we takin’ a drive?” I asked, my voice low, barely steady, trying to mask the storm still swirling inside me.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t back down. Her chest was still rising and falling like she was catching her breath, but her eyes? Her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

“A drive,” she said, voice soft but steady, like she was daring me to follow.

And just like that, the decision was made.