Page 110 of When Love Takes Root

He nodded once, no smile. “Caught them. Not almost. Not suspected. Caught.”

My stomach twisted. “I’m sorry.”

“I was too, for a while. Then I got mad. Not crash-out mad, but the anger that makes a man question his own judgment. I kept replaying everything. Every time she acted strange. Every time my spirit checked me, and I ignored it because I didn’t want to seem insecure. Betrayal is bad enough, but realizing you helped lie to yourself will humble you.”

That sentence made me sit back.

He looked at me then. “She came back later and said she was pregnant.”

I froze. “What?”

“Baby was Kacey’s.”

“Oh, she would’ve had to see me.” Josiah’s laugh came fast, surprised and full. I lifted my chin. “No, because some women need to be baptized in consequences.”

He laughed harder, and the sound loosened the anger I had started carrying on his behalf.

“I handled it.”

“How?”

“I removed myself before I became somebody I’d have to explain to God.”

The answer sobered me.

There he was again. Hood and honorable in the same breath. Not perfect. Not pretending. Just disciplined enough to know his strength needed boundaries before pain gave it bad instructions.

“Did it make you bitter?” I asked.

“For a season.” He leaned back, still holding my hand. “Not against women. Against my own hope. I didn’t stop believing good women existed. I was raised by too many to be that foolish. But I stopped trusting the part of me that wanted to build with somebody. I thought maybe wanting a wife made me vulnerable to being played.”

“And now?”

His eyes held mine. “Now I think the wrong woman taught me what discernment costs when I ignore it.”

“I’m not Domonique.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not Jamal.”

“I know that too.”

We sat with that.

His jaw shifted like my words had brushed against an old bruise.

“I’ve had to learn the difference between loyalty and surrender,” he said. “Sometimes, you think standing beside somebody means standing in front of consequences that were never yours to carry.”

I went still.

His thumb moved once across my knuckles, slow and controlled, but his eyes had gone somewhere far away.

“There’s more to that story,” he said. “Just not tonight.”

I nodded, even though curiosity pressed at the back of my teeth.

Tonight had already asked enough of both of us.