Page 82 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

“I fucked up.”

“Damn right you did.”

For the first time since we'd walked up on him, he looked me dead in my eyes.

“I can't take that shit back.”

“No.”

“You think about that every day?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I do.”

“You should.”

Silence settled over the parking lot. Cars rolled by. Kids laughed somewhere in the distance. Life kept moving, as it always did.

“I ain't asking you to forgive me,” Jamal said quietly.

“I know you ain't.”

“I just…”

He stopped, struggling to get the words out.

“I wish I could do that day over.”

I stared at him for a long moment.

“Too late.”

Another silence fell between us. Jamal stood there, staring at the pavement. The excuses were gone. The lies were gone. All that was left was the truth.

“You know what the difference is between you and Kyrie?” I asked.

Slowly, he lifted his head.

“What?”

“My cousin got another chance.”

I paused.

“He got to wake up.”

Another beat.

“He got to go home to his wife.”

My eyes drifted for a second before finding his again.

“He got to put his hands on the stomach carrying his child.”

Jamal swallowed hard.

“I never thought about it like that.”