“She’s yours, Henry.” Her soft voice and the use of his government name made this shit real for him.
Pain slammed straight into his chest, and he stood up abruptly. “Fuck you mean she’s mine, Devyn? What do that even mean, yo? How is she mine and I’m just now meeting her? She’s old enough to curse, G. Make this shit make sense to me.”
“The night we met . . . I got pregnant. I-I kept the baby, b-but I didn’t tell you about her. I was afraid . . . because of the kind of life you live.”
Her eyes stayed connected with the desk, which pissed Haze off. He didn’t want to disrespect her or scare Hazel, so he kept his voice even, though he wanted to knock all this shit over.
“Look at me,” he demanded. Her eyes snapped to his. Haze didn’t want to admit it, but he felt her pain just as much as he felt his own. It was clear to him that Devyn had struggled significantly because of her choices. The fact that he was able to sit here and rationalize her pain when she had just shot him straight through the heart was wild. “You kept my daughter from me because you were afraid because I’m in a motorcycle club? That’s it? Because back then, that was all you fuckin’ knew aboutme. Shit, that’s still all you know about me. So, tell me. Am I getting that right?”
She hung her head. “Yes, but the shootout?—”
“Look at me,” he said harsher than he meant to. “You kept me from my child because of someother niggasshooting atme? You act like I was the one that caused that conflict?—”
“It doesn’t matter who caused it. What matters is that my child . . . our child could have been caught in the crossfire. What happened the other day?” she asked so quickly he felt like he caught whiplash.
He tucked his lips into his mouth to keep from snapping. After a deep breath, he said, “Some bullshit that ain’t cause no harm to nobody.”
Devyn shook her head. “Your lifestyle isn’t appropriate for a kid.”
Haze’s jaw clenched tightly. He turned toward the door, and right before he walked out, he said, “You ain’t even give me a chance to turn shit around.”
He felt like he couldn’t breathe inside the dealership. Getting out of there as fast as possible was his only goal. He noticed that people darted out of his way as he walked by them. Any other time, he would grin at them, as if he wasn’t up in there less than a week ago terrorizing them. Today, though, he couldn’t bring himself to care about none of that bullshit.
As soon as he made it to his black-on-black bike, he mounted it, put his helmet on, and turned the engine over. He pulled off the dealership parking lot with one destination in mind.
His thoughts raced as he weaved through traffic. He couldn’t grab on to a single one. This right here was why he thrived in chaos. His mind was always in a state of constant chaos.
That’s that ADHD,his mama would tell him. He was diagnosed as a young boy. None of the medications worked on him. No matter what they did for him, it couldn’t be maintainedfor him. It was why when he was sixteen, his parents let him have his first blunt. As a baby, the only thing that calmed him was weed smoke. As a teenager, it turned out that the only thing that could keep him calm was a fat ass blunt. He needed the shit like he needed air. Part of him wished he’d stopped to take a pull before hopping on his bike, but it didn’t matter.
He pulled up to his mama’s house and hopped off his bike. Once he was on the wraparound porch, he pounded on the door and lit a blunt that was tucked in the front of his jacket pocket.
Minutes later, the door was snatched open, and his mom stood there, ready to fuss. “Boy, why you knockin’ on my door like the damn police—oh.” Her eyes fell to the blunt hanging from his mouth as she watched him pace back and forth erratically. “You okay, baby?”
His mama knew that if Haze was on her porch smoking like he didn’t have any home training or sense that something must have been extremely wrong.
“Who’s at the door, Auntie?” Deja asked. She poked her head outside and then grinned. “Oh, shit. What’s up, Haze?” She walked onto the porch, and Kyomi followed behind her. When Deja reached out to take the blunt from his mouth, he barked at her. Like, he dead ass barked. Deja jumped, and her brows furrowed. “Did you just . . . bark at me?”
“Mama, it happened. He finally lost his mind, hasn’t he?” Kyomi asked with wide eyes as she looked at her brother.
Though she was in her late twenties, Kyomi had such a pure heart. She was a damn empath and the first person in the world who Haze ever felt like he had to protect.
“Chile, I don’t know. Haze, baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I got a child,” he blurted out. The three women stared at him like he had a thong on and danced around a pole. Silence engulfed them, which only pissed Haze off more. He’d come hereto get some advice and comfort. That shit wasn’t happening fast enough for him. “Y’all gonna say somethin’ or just stare at me?”
“Maybe we didn’t hear you correctly, baby. Can you say that again?” his mother urged.
Haze gritted his teeth. “I. Have. A. Child.”
“How? Like you lost your marbles and kidnapped one?” Deja asked. She peered around him as if a child would suddenly appear.
“No, idiot. I have a fuckin’ daughter,” Haze snapped.
“Watch your tone, Henry,” his mother scolded. Haze took another pull of his blunt. “Why don’t you finish smoking and come inside? We were just about to have lunch.”
Haze nodded and took another pull. His mom went inside, but Kyomi and Deja stayed outside with him. Kyomi walked up to him and grabbed his arm to stop him from pacing. She guided him to the swing that could fit two people comfortably and sat down. He followed suit, but his leg bounced uncontrollably as soon as he sat down.
“Want to talk about it?”
