33. Derek’s Destiny

DESTINY

Something had shifted in Derek after I told him everything. Outwardly, he was still Derek. The man who made me fall so deeply in love. But those eyes? The ones that usually held all the warmth in the world, the ones that made me feel seen? They were different now. Darker. Harder.

We hadn’t made love in days. For most people, that might not raise alarms. But for Derek? It was like a signal flare.

The man could barely go a minute without finding some way to touch me—his hand tracing the curve of my back, his lips grazing my neck like he needed to remind himself I was there, real, solid in his world. He’d pull me into him with a hunger that wasn’t just physical.

Derek didn’t just express his feelings with words; his touch was his primary language. And now?

Even though we shared the same bed, the emotional distance between us felt like an ocean. I laid there night after night, staring at the ceiling while the silence between us grew heavier.

The lack of intimacy? That was just a symptom. The fruit that had fallen from the tree of something deeper, something more dangerous that had taken root. It wasn’t just about sex. I could go without sex. But I couldn’t go without him—without the closeness, without the sense that we were still tethered to each other.

His touch wasn’t just about desire—it was his way of saying, We’re good. We’re connected. I’m here. And now, that touch had vanished, like he was slipping through my fingers.

It wasn’t just that Derek hadn’t reached for me. It was the weight behind it. Like something inside him was pulling away, withdrawing from us, from me. I could handle the physical distance, but I couldn’t handle losing him to whatever darkness was creeping in. And that’s what had me lying there, wide awake every night, with the man I loved just inches away but feeling like he was miles out of reach.

His voice cut through the quiet of the suite, sharp and cold. “Marcy, I don’t wanna hear that shit. I gotta stay out here longer than planned. Ya’ll will figure it out.”

The makeup brush I was painting my face with froze mid-stroke. That tone—it wasn’t just frustration, it was mean. Clipped. Like he was holding back something bigger. I watched him in the mirror, standing by the windows of our primary bedroom in the suite, staring out like the city held answers he couldn’t find. He’d been doing that a lot lately—lost in thought, shoulders tense.

“Derek?” I called softly, stepping into the bedroom, the familiar scent of him filling the air.

He didn’t turn around right away, just stood there, his whole body tense, fists still balled at his sides like he was fighting a war inside himself.

“We staying longer?” I asked, my voice barely steady. I could hear the unease creeping in, the question hanging heavy in the air.

“Yeah.” He didn’t even look at me at first, just hung up on Marcy mid-sentence while she was yelling, before finally turning to face me. His expression was unreadable, locked up tight. “Gotta handle some things.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding hard in my chest, a sinking feeling settling deep inside me. “What things?” I asked, my voice small, almost afraid of the answer.

“Business,” he muttered, his jaw tight, like that one word was supposed to explain everything. But it didn’t. It just made the space between us feel even colder, more distant.

I took a step closer, but he didn’t move. Just stood there, staring past me like he was trying to push me out of the conversation, out of whatever was eating at him. His body was still, but the tension rippled through him, like he was holding himself back, keeping the storm contained.

“Talk to me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

His eyes flicked down to mine, and for just a second, I saw something—something that looked like him. A flicker of the Derek I knew. But then it vanished, swallowed up by the cold distance that had settled between us. He let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his locs, his movements restless.

“Talk to me,” I said again, staring up at him, feeling the space between us like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. “Please, Derek.”

“What you wanna talk about, Destiny?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

“The way you’ve been acting these past couple days,” I started, my own voice shaking, “this is exactly what I was scared of. You said you wouldn’t judge me—”

“I’m not judging you, Princess.” The way he said it, sharp and clipped, told me he was fighting something. Holding it in.

“Then why are you treating me like this?” My words spilled out, thick with frustration and the fear that I was losing him.

He stopped pacing and turned to face me, his jaw clenched tight. “I’m handling it,” he said, the words coming out rough, like gravel under his breath. But there was something in his eyes, something that told me he wasn’t convincing either of us.

I stepped closer, feeling the heat between us, the anger and pain swirling like a storm ready to break. “No, you’re not. What exactly do you think you’re handling? You’re pulling away from me, and I need you to let me in. I need you, Derek.”

He blinked, his chest rising and falling hard, the muscles in his neck straining. “I’m trying,” he whispered, barely audible now. His hands trembled as they clenched at his sides, and for a moment, it looked like he might break. Just for a moment.

I whispered. “I need you to be with me.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression filled with love, pain, and something darker. Then he took a step back, putting space between us again. “I can’t... not until I make it right.”

I stood there, watching him retreat into that place where I couldn’t reach him, and I realized, for the first time, that maybe love wasn’t going to be enough to pull him back.

“I told you I’m safe now,” I said, my voice trembling as I tried to hold it together. “You don’t have to—”

“I do!” Derek’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and sudden, slicing through the air between us. I flinched, my body recoiling from the force of his anger. His eyes flashed with instant regret, but the fire beneath them hadn’t died down. It was still burning, simmering just below the surface. “I have to, Des. I told you I’m not asking permission to take care of you. In any way. Period.”

“And what about us, Derek?” My voice shook, barely more than a whisper, cracking under the weight of it all. “What about right now?”

“What about it?” he growled, his voice rough, raw, like it was scraping against something inside him. “What am I doing wrong?”

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable, ripping through the air between us. I could see the guilt eating him alive, twisting him into something I barely recognized. He wasn’t just angry. He was breaking, unraveling right in front of me.

I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to pull him back from the edge he was teetering on. But the distance between us felt like an ocean, and I was losing him—slowly, piece by piece. And the worst part? I didn’t know how to stop it.

“You’re spiraling,” I whispered, my words coming out in a broken plea. “Please, Derek. Don’t let this destroy us.”

He looked at me, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with a pain so deep it felt endless. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought I’d reached him. But then he shook his head, stepping back like he needed space to breathe. Like I was too much.

He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t understand, Des. I can’t turn this off. I can’t stop feeling like I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me,” I said, the ache in my chest so deep it hurt to speak.

“That doesn’t change the fact that it happened, Des. You went through hell, and I wasn’t there to stop it. That’s on me. I should’ve been there.”

“You couldn’t have known—” I started, but he cut me off, his voice sharp, almost desperate.

“I should’ve known!” He slammed his fist against the wall, the sound echoing through the room, making me jump.

Tears welled in my eyes, a tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe as I watched him unravel right in front of me. Derek was slipping, his rage and guilt pulling him further into a place I couldn’t reach. I stepped closer, my hand trembling as I reached out, my fingers lightly brushing his arm. He flinched, muscles tense beneath my touch, but he didn’t pull away. I held onto that—a small crack in the armor he’d been building around himself.

“Derek,” I whispered, my voice breaking but steady enough to cut through the storm raging inside him. “Whatever you think you need to do—it’s not gonna rewrite the past. It won’t. It’s only gonna tear you apart.”

He whipped around, his eyes blazing, dark and wild like he was on the edge of something dangerous. “Destiny, this ain’t just about the past. There are people coming for you now. Today.” His words hit the air like gunshots, each one sharper than the last. “The pictures. The extortion. Eden working in that club like she didn’t have a choice. Or did you forget about that?”

I shook my head, but he didn’t stop. The fire in him was too hot, burning too fierce.

“You think it’s over just cause nothing happened?” His voice dropped, low and rough, and the way he said it almost scared me, like he wasn’t Derek anymore. “If Keem didn’t spot Eden that night in the club, who knows what could’ve happened to her. To you.”

“But it didn’t,” I whispered, the words tasting bitter even as I said them. I was grasping for something, anything to pull him back, to ground him. “Nothing happened.”

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides like he was barely holding it all together. “Cause I’m not letting it happen,” he growled, his voice thick with something dark, something heavy. “I’m gonna take care of it. Take care of you.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t a promise. It was a warning. A vow wrapped in steel, and it made my skin crawl because it didn’t feel like the Derek I knew. This wasn’t love driving him anymore; it was something else. Something that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

I could see it in his eyes, the way they flickered with anger, with a need for control, and I realized in that moment—he wasn’t just protecting me. He was trying to bury his own guilt, his own helplessness, by fighting battles that didn’t need fighting. Battles that could end up destroying both of us.

“Derek,” I said again, softer this time, pleading. “This isn’t you. Don’t do this. Not like this.”

But the way he looked at me—the intensity, the desperation—told me he was too far gone to hear it. Too far gone to stop now.

He stepped forward, closing the space between us, his hands gripping my shoulders, pulling me into him like he was holding on for dear life.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice raw, broken. “I won’t.”

I pressed my forehead to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my skin, the tension still coiled tight in his body.

“You won’t lose me,” I whispered back, but even as I said it, I wasn’t sure if it was true. “But you’re losing yourself.”

His grip on me tightened, his fingers trembling against my skin. And in that moment, I felt just how close he was to the edge. This wasn’t just about protecting me. This was about him trying to make up for something he thought he should’ve done. Something he thought he’d lost.

And I didn’t know if I could save him from it.

His voice broke the silence, sharp and distant. “What did you decide about the house, Des? The realtor’s waiting, and we can’t hold it any longer.”

I looked up at him in shock.

“Now you’re gonna change the subject?” I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue. “I wish I hadn’t told you anything.”

His expression didn’t change. Blank. Emotionless.

I let go of him, pulling back like his touch had burned me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I folded into myself, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.

“Maybe we should hold off on the house,” I suggested, my voice shaky but steady enough to make the point.

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“You’re stressed,” I said, glancing up at him, hoping he’d see how much this was breaking me. “It’s not a good time. We still have my place, and—”

“We’re not living Juniper,” he interrupted, his tone final, like he’d already made up his mind.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice calm. “I was gonna say, you have other places. We don’t have to decide right now.”

“I didn’t want to take you to live in my bachelor pads, Princess,” he said, his voice soft but edged with frustration. “I want us to have a home. A real home to start our life together, raise a family. Hell, you might even be pregnant now, what if there’s a baby coming in a few months?”

That hit me like a slap. I stood up, frustration bubbling over, spilling out. “Well, actually, Derek, you haven’t touched me since I told you everything, so I really doubt that’s the case.”

Silence.

The words I’d thrown out hung in the air, sharp and jagged, cutting into the fragile thread holding us together. Derek’s face darkened, the frustration rolling off him in waves.

“That’s what you’re thinking about? Now I’m not giving you enough dick?” His voice was low, sarcastic, like a storm about to break as he chuckled. “I can’t have some time to process life-changing information? You just need me to whip it out and not feel anything about what you told me? I shouldn’t be angry, confused, shocked, sad? Nothing?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—” I started, but he cut me off, his words sharp, almost wounded.

“I’m not trying to make this about me, Des. I just need you to understand how much I love you. How connected I am to you that I feel everything you feel, baby. It’s fucked up what happened to you. I hate that you had to make that split-second decision to do what you did, and it’s killing me that I wasn’t there for you that night and after to take care of you while you carried that shit. It’s a lot to take in. Sorry my main priority right now ain’t fucking you.”

His words hit me like a slap, and I flinched, blinking away the tears that stung the back of my eyes. “It’s not about fucking me, Derek. It’s about you being here. Present.”

“I have been here,” he snapped, his voice cracking through the air like a whip. “Every damn day. We’ve been watching movies, going to dinner, chillin’ with our families—”

“But you’re not really here, Derek!” I interrupted, my voice shaking, the frustration finally boiling over. “You’re physically here, but emotionally? You’re a million miles away. And I’m trying, I’m trying to reach you, but it feels like you’re slipping further away every second.”

He turned his back on me, running his hands over his face like he was trying to scrub away the anger, trying to hold himself together.

“You think I don’t want you?” he muttered, his voice low, rough like gravel. “You think I’m pulling away ‘cause I don’t want this? Don’t want you?”

I bit my lip, hard enough to taste blood, because the truth was sitting there on the edge of my tongue, threatening to spill out.

“I don’t know anymore, Derek,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head because you won’t let me in.”

He turned then, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with a frustration that looked like it was about to break him in half.

Tears burned my eyes, but I held them back.

“I’ll fix it,” he said, his voice hardening again, locking away whatever vulnerability had just slipped through.

I stood there, staring at him, wanting to fight for us, for everything we had. But I could see it in his eyes—this battle wasn’t just mine anymore. It was his. And until he finished it, until he buried whatever was haunting him, we’d be stuck here, in this place where love wasn’t enough to heal the wounds.

A sudden knock at the door echoed through the suite, cutting through the tension like a signal. My mom. Of course, she’d arrive right in the middle of this mess.

"Dinner’s all set up for you and your mom at Castillos," Derek said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. The warmth of his lips lingered for a beat, but it didn’t sink in—not like it used to. Not like I needed it to. "The driver will take you, and security will be with you. Aight? Have fun," he murmured, his voice calm, casual, like we weren’t standing on the edge of something about to shatter. Like the cracks in us weren’t getting deeper with each passing second.

I swallowed hard, a lump tightening in my throat, thick with the frustration that had been building for days. As much as I loved my mom, dinner was the last thing I wanted right now. I didn’t have it in me to fake a smile, to laugh over appetizers like my world wasn’t falling apart. I didn’t want to sit at some fancy table, pretending I wasn’t drowning in the space Derek kept putting between us.

I just wanted him to see me.

I just needed him to stop walking away from me—from us.

"Derek..." I started, my voice barely above a whisper, but he was already turning, already moving toward the door like nothing was wrong. Like the foundation of everything we’d built wasn’t crumbling beneath our feet.

He paused, his hand resting on the doorframe, his back to me, tension rippling through his broad shoulders. "We’ll talk when you get back, aight?" His voice was low, almost too low, like he couldn’t bring himself to say more. Like if he looked at me, all the walls he’d been trying to hold up would come crashing down.

But I didn’t want to wait until later. Didn’t want to keep pushing everything off like the pieces of us weren’t slipping through our fingers.

"Derek," I tried again, stepping toward him, reaching out, but my hand fell short, the space between us feeling too wide, too cold.

"Go eat with your mom, Des. I’ll be here when you’re back." His tone was firm, final, and it made something in me ache—ache in a way that told me this wasn’t just about dinner. This was about everything we weren’t saying. Everything we couldn’t face.

“I’m heading out,” he continued, his voice too damn calm for how raw everything felt. “Maybe y’all can talk about the wedding. Start putting something in motion.”

The word hit me like a punch, the weight of it twisting in my gut. A wedding? How could we plan a future when we couldn’t even survive the present?

“Just go, Derek,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as my head dropped, my eyes now focused on the floor.

He paused, and for a second, I thought he might stay. Might fight. But then I heard his footsteps, heavy and deliberate, fading away as he walked out the door, greeting my mom before he left.

I stood there, staring at the empty space where he’d been, my chest tightening with all the things I couldn’t say. And the tears—God, the tears I’d been holding back—were right there, threatening to spill over.

“Destiny, I’m here!” my mom’s voice floated through the suite, pulling me out of the fog I’d been drifting in.

I sucked in a sharp breath, the weight of everything pressing against my chest. "Just a sec, Ma!” I called, my voice shaking more than I wanted. I speed-walked to the bathroom, closing the door shut behind me, the cold tile beneath my feet grounding me for a moment.

The mirror stared back at me, and I barely recognized the woman in the reflection. With a shaky hand, I grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen before I pressed the call button.

It rang once before I heard his voice on the other end, low and steady like it always was. “Destiny?”

The sound of his voice hit me, and I felt the dam inside me crack. I swallowed hard, trying to keep it together, but the tears were right there, threatening to spill over and ruin the makeup I worked so hard on, since I didn’t want to invite the makeup artist up into the tension.

“Ant,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. It took everything I had not to break right there on the spot.

“Talk to me, Des. What’s goin’ on?”

I closed my eyes, gripping the counter with my free hand as if it could somehow keep me from unraveling. The cool marble was the only thing keeping me grounded in that moment.

“It’s… it’s Derek.” My voice cracked, betraying the storm brewing beneath the surface. “He’s pulling away from me, and I don’t know what to do.”

“You know what it is, Des. He’s hurtin’. Hell, I’d be worried if he wasn’t feeling some type of way about what you told him. He’s angry, he’s feeling guilty, and now… he don’t know how to look at you without seein’ that night playin’ over and over in his mind.”

I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, my throat burning as I tried to fight back the sob that was clawing its way up. “I know, Ant. I know, but I’m losing him. He’s here, but he’s not here, you know? It’s like there’s this wall between us, and I can’t break through it. No matter what I say, he won’t let me in.”

Ant sighed, the sound heavy with the kind of weariness that comes from years of knowing too much. “Men like Derek and me? We don’t just let shit go, Des. We don’t know how to. It sits in us like poison, eatin’ away at everything good ‘til we don’t even recognize ourselves anymore. Not our best quality but, it’s a Harris thing for sure.”

His words hit me hard, a truth I wasn’t ready to face but couldn’t ignore.

“Then what do I do?” My voice broke, the desperation seeping through every syllable. “How do I reach him?”

There was a pause on the other end, like he was weighing his words carefully, knowing that whatever he said next could tip me one way or the other. “He’s gonna come back to you, Des, just give him a minute.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, the tears finally spilling over, hot and relentless as they streaked down my face. “I’m scared,” I admitted, my voice a fragile whisper.

“I know,” Ant said, his voice softening in that way only he could. “But you’re stronger than this. You’ve survived worse. Derek he’s just…he’s lost in the dark right now.”

I sniffed, wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t,” he said firmly. “But you gotta give him time. Let him wrestle with his demons. And when he’s ready, you be there, arms open, ready to pull him back.”

His words settled into me like a balm, soothing some of the ache that had been gnawing at me for days. I nodded again, my grip loosening on the counter. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice steadier now. “Okay.”

“And Des?” Ant’s voice dropped lower, more serious now. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. You can’t help him if you’re breakin’ apart in the process.”

I took a deep breath, letting his words wash over me. He was right. I had to hold on, for Derek, for us… but also for me.

“Thanks, Ant,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

“Anytime, Des. Anytime.”

As I hung up, I took one last look in the mirror. My reflection stared back at me—stronger, more resolute. I wasn’t gonna lose Derek. Not like this. I just had to find a way to reach him, even if it meant waiting for him to come back to me on his own.

But for now… I had to put a smile on my face and go have lunch with my mother.