And for what? Because he had his daddy’s snake gene? Medgar kept talking, like he forgot to give a damn about cameras and recorders and anything but his own need to absolve himself.
“Gillian’s lying to you because she ain’t tryna lose you and your sister. She lost her parents when they learned what she did. Slept with two brothers. One ended up dead. They wanted custody of you and Mekhayla. They tried, but they weren’t willing to drag their daughter through a murder accusation. Not publicly.” He spread his hands. “Hell, I really think they helped her clean up afterwards. Not personally. Your grandfather wouldnever risk that kind of dirty—the money stuff was something else. So, that was another reason they stayed quiet. They tried to get y’all, but without that, they had no grounds. And she punished them for it. She refused to let them see y’all. Retaliation, maybe. Spite, for sure. She’s as mean as she is beautiful.”
My jaw clenched until my teeth hurt, Carlos’s defenses of my grandfather suddenly making sense.
“And on our side…” He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Our mama couldn’t take it. The idea that Gillian was laying with both her boys, and one ended up dead? She shut down. And Gillian shut her out too. Cut her off from her grandbabies.”
He looked up at me, desperation raw in his face.
“She’s still alive, just so you know. Your grandmother. Misses you and your sister damn near every day. She kept every picture of y’all she could. But Gillian… she made sure the door stayed closed.”
My breath caught. My grandmother. Still alive. Missing us. Loving us quietly from the outside. I knew she lived in Louisiana, but I’d never let myself look, determined to abandon her the way I thought she abandoned us. Medgar’s revelation threatened to undo me. Gillian had isolated us from everyone, if he was to be believed. She’d turned her back on the Venzants and the Derouens. On purpose.
I felt sick.
“Whatever Trell’s doing,” Medgar said softly, “it’s because of the mess we made. Me and your mama and his mama. Our choices. Our lies.”
The guard stepped closer, ready to end things, but I didn’t move. I had to speak my piece.
“My father is dead,” I said quietly. “My mama lied to me. You betrayed him. And now your son wanna kill me behind shit I ain’t have nothing to do with.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I know, neph... I’m begging you. When you find Trell… hear him out first. He’s angry. Hurt. But he’s blood.”
I stood abruptly. The chair scraped across the floor with a screech that made the guard jump.
“Don’t beg,” I said. “Not for some shit I can’t give you.”
Medgar reached out like he wanted to grab my arm, stop me from leaving, fix something that he and Gillian had broken long ago. But I was already turning away. The guard motioned me out. I walked down the hallway without a single look back, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Carlos was right. Gillian’s ghosts weren’t just ghosts. They were demons. And now they were mine to deal with.
Good thing I knew exactly how to exorcise them.
Mekhi came home different.He seemed quieter, heavier. He walked through the door with something on his mind. Whatever it was, was worrying him bad. My unbothered not-boyfriend was bothered.
I felt it when he touched me. I was used to Mekhi teasing me, handling me with an edge. Not exactly rough, but not gentle. This time, though, he moved differently. He seemed urgent, but not rushed. No ripping clothes off. No taunting me, no slick comments, no aggravating back-and-forth. It’s like he needed it, needed me, needed to touch something,feelsomething. He fucked me with an edge, with quiet desperation and something that looked like sadness in his warm, chocolate eyes.
Now the room was dim, light leaking in through the blinds, stretching across the floor and up the bedspread. His arm wrapped around me tighter than usual, holding me to him like he thought I might go.
That wasn’t happening.
His chest rose and fell under my cheek, the rhythm steady. His heartbeat calmed me, even though I knew that beneath it, there was turmoil. He didn’t talk. He didn’t sleep either. He just stared at the ceiling fan like the blades might whirl out some answers. I slid my fingers across a scar on his ribs, wondering how he’d been hurt. Usually, he’d snap out something, tell me to quit feeling him up. I’d tell him he liked it. This time, all he did was exhale.
I knew he wasn’t one to share much, but I had to at least try.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, letting my fingers trail against his abs and back up to where I could feel his heartbeat.
“What you mean?”
“You just seem… preoccupied.”
I could feel him looking down at me. “You don’t think I got enough to be preoccupied about, Little Thug?”
I blew out a soft breath. “That’s not what I’m saying. You seem extra preoccupied today.”
“Damn, a nigga slipping,” he mumbled.
“Because you showing emotion?”
