The door opened about thirty minutes later and Quest walked in followed by three men who made the hospital room feel about four sizes too small.
Cannon came through first, tall and broad with that quiet energy he carried everywhere, a gift bag in one hand and a teddy bear the size of a toddler in the other. Creed was behind him looking like he’d stepped off a GQ cover even in jeans and a hoodie, holding a bouquet of flowers and a pink gift bag. And Riot brought up the rear with a balloon bouquet that barely fit through the doorframe and a grin that could light up a room at midnight. He also had a huge pink gift bag.
The King brothers. My brothers-in-law by extension even if the wedding hadn’t happened yet. Seeing them walk through that door filled something in my chest that I didn’t realize was empty.
“Look at the three wise men,” I said. “Bearing gifts and everything. Which one of y’all brought the frankincense?”
“I don’t know what frankincense is but I brought you some edibles in case the pain meds aren’t cutting it,” Riot said, pulling a small bag from his pocket. “Don’t tell the nurses.”
“Boy, put that away before we all get arrested.” But I was laughing and it felt so good to laugh that my eyes watered.
They each hugged me gently, the way large men hug women who’ve been through surgery, with careful arms and soft grips. Cannon held on a beat longer than the others and whispered, “We got you, sis,” against my ear and I had to blink fast to keepfrom crying because those three words from a man who didn’t waste them meant everything.
“Can we see her?” Creed asked. “I’ve been looking at pictures but I need to meet my niece in person.”
“I want to go too,” I said. “I want to tell her goodnight.”
Quest helped me into the wheelchair without being asked. His hands were gentle on my waist, careful around the stitches, and for a second when he leaned down to adjust the footrests his face was close enough to mine that I could see the exhaustion in his eyes and the thing behind the exhaustion that he still wasn’t sharing with me.
We took the elevator up to the NICU. The whole crew, Quest pushing my chair, three King brothers walking behind us like the world’s most intimidating entourage. The nurse on the floor looked at the five of us approaching and her eyes went wide but she buzzed us in without argument because something about the energy of this group communicated that arguing wasn’t going to be productive.
They stood at the incubator and went quiet the way everyone went quiet the first time they saw her. Aziza had that effect on people. Three pounds of sleeping baby could silence a room full of grown men who’d done terrible things with their hands. Cannon pressed his palm against the glass and shook his head slowly. Riot’s jaw tightened and he looked away for a second before looking back. Creed just stared at her with an expression that made me think he was seeing something beyond a premature baby in a box, maybe seeing the fragility of everything they were all fighting to protect.
“She’s perfect,” Creed said quietly.
“She’s a Banks,” Quest said. “She’s supposed to be perfect.”
I reached through the port and touched her arm and whispered goodnight to her the way I did every evening. Her fingers twitched against my touch but she didn’t wake up andthat was fine. She needed the sleep more than I needed the acknowledgment.
• • •
Back in my room, Quest helped me into bed and sat on the edge while the King brothers waited in the hallway.
“I’m going to head to the hotel with them. We need to talk strategy. Creed has intel I need to go through and we need to plan some things.”
“Okay.”
He reached behind him and pulled something from his waistband and set it on the bedside table next to my water cup. A Glock 19. Compact, black, familiar. He’d taught me to shoot on the range back home and I was better than decent with it. The weight of it on the table changed the energy in the room immediately.
“You’ve got two guards on this door and two on the NICU floor,” he said. “But I need you to have this. Just in case.”
“Quest.”
“If anything feels off, anything at all, you call me first. Don’t hesitate. Don’t second-guess yourself. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. I’ll be back first thing when visiting hours open.”
He held my face and kissed me. It was a real kiss, not a quick peck, not a drive-by. It carried weight and intention. It felt like he was memorizing the taste of me in case he didn’t get another chance. When he pulled back his eyes were soft but his jaw was set and I could see the war sitting right behind his tenderness.
“I love you, Peach.”
“I love you too. Be safe.”
He kissed me once more, quick this time, then stood and walked out. I heard him greet the King brothers in the hallway,heard their voices fade toward the elevator, heard the doors close. Then there was nothing but the monitors, the gun on my nightstand, and the silence filling up the spaces where Quest used to be.
I looked at the Glock. I looked at the door. I looked at the ceiling and listened to the hospital hum around me. Distant beeps, footsteps down the corridor, muffled voices carrying through walls that were too thin for a building that never fully slept.
Something was wrong with Quest. Something beyond the war and the Rios family and the stress of having a baby in the NICU. I could feel it the way you feel weather changing before the sky shows it. A pressure drop. A shift in the air. Something coming that I couldn’t see yet.
I just didn’t know what it was.
