Page 8 of When Love Takes Root

Tears blurred the page.

Jamal never let ordinary life make our love ordinary. We kissed in kitchens, prayed in bedrooms, laughed over broken shelves, and chose each other in the middle of noisy days. We protected what God had given us.

I smiled through my tears.

“I can’t wait to see you when I get home.”

I folded the card carefully and held it against my heart before setting it beside Skye’s little stone.

The phone rang. The sound sliced through the quiet.

“Celestial Crowns Hair Haven, this is Celeste.”

“Mrs. Coleman?” The man’s voice trembled. “This is Mr. Donnelly from Jamal’s job. Your husband collapsed. The ambulance just left, and they’re taking him to Self Ridge Memorial Hospital. You need to get here right away.” His voice was laden with emotion.

“Collapsed?” The word barely sounded like mine.

No . . . he was fine. He was just . . .

I could still see him standing in my salon with flowers in his hands, kissing my forehead like he’d always have another chance.

Mr. Donnelly said, “I’m sorry. That’s all I know.”

The line went dead.

My phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a hard little crack.

I stared at it. The flowers still sat on the counter. The card was still in my hand. Nothing in the room had changed. Everything in my world had.

My body moved before my mind did. I grabbed my keys, clutched the card against my chest, turned off the lights, and locked the door with trembling hands.

Collapsed.

The word followed me all the way to my car.

In the driver’s seat, my breathing turned ragged. I fumbled with the screen, my clumsy fingers nearly dropping the phone before Leilani’s line finally rang, the endless tones stretching my panic thinner.

“Lani!”

“What is it? Cee, what happened?”

“Jamal.” My voice broke. “He collapsed at work. They’re taking him to the hospital.”

“I’m on my way,” she said immediately. “Me and Onyx. Just drive, sis. We’ll meet you there.”

The city fought me at every turn—every red light a personal insult, every slow car a roadblock. My hands clamped onto the steering wheel until my knuckles ached. Beneath the seat belt, the card pressed against the frantic hammer of my chest.

Prayer spilled out between jagged breaths, stripped of eloquence and pretty church language. “Please let this be a mistake. Please let him be sitting up. Not Jamal. Not my husband. Please, God. Please.”

I whipped into the Self Ridge Memorial parking lot just as Leilani and Onyx skidded in right behind me. Barefoot and clutching her sandals, Lani ran toward my opening door. I crashed into her arms so hard we staggered, but she locked her grip around me.

“I’m here, sis.” Leilani’s voice was a whisper against my ear.

Then Onyx steadied me before my knees could give out.

“We got you,” he whispered.

The sliding doors opened to a rush of bleach, cold air, and fluorescent light. Somewhere, a vending machine whirred; a child cried down a hallway. Life kept moving in ordinary noises, and I hated every one of them because mine had stopped.