Page 20 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

“A nigga ever move a hair out of place, and I will kill him, Mo. I don’t care if you’re right or wrong, but don’t provoke a man either. You’re never strong enough to go toe to toe with a man. You walk away and allow a man to walk away with his life, because if you ever swing and a nigga even think about hitting you back, I’ll kill him.”

He had said the words so calmly that Morgan thought he was playing. She was 11 years old, and she had gotten into a fight with a boy on the playground. Ethic had rushed to the school to her rescue. When he found out Morgan was the aggressor, he supported her in public but corrected her as soon as they were alone, and he never let up on the lesson. “You’re never stronger than a man. Keep your hands to yourself and come get me. If a nigga ever gets aggressive, you let me handle it.” Morgan knew this. She had been taught this, and still, she had disrespected Ahmeek. Both physically and even worse with her words. She was ashamed because even at her worst, he didn’t meet her there. He didn’t strike back.

She had said some hurtful things, and although she had meant them, she could have given him the chance to speak. She could have spoken out of sadness instead of letting her jealousy and anger speak first. It would have come out differently if he had known how much another woman having his child broke her heart. But she couldn’t go back in time and change how it had happened. She had burned a bridge with Ahmeek, and now she was between a rock and a hard place. With Yolly in the hospital, it felt like the rules of engagement had changed. Everything she had been angry over felt like it didn’t even matter now. The text message lingering on her screen had her frozen because she knew Ahmeek’s presence would complicate things.

I know you have no reason to run to show up for me after what I did.

I know I was mean.

I know I was out of bounds.

It’s not fair how I treated you.

I know you’re mad.

I know we’re supposed to be over, but I need you.

I don’t want to need you, but…

Yolly’s sick. It’s bad. Please call me.

Morgan was seconds away from pressing sends. Words weren’t even required, in fact, because if she dropped her location, she knew he would come. Or at least she hoped he still would. She wouldn’t blame him if he had blocked her number after everything she had done. If he were the man she thought he was, he would answer, but Morgan was hesitant to call.

She wanted him so badly. It felt like it was going to take a village to help her through this, but she was afraid of the conflict Ahmeek’s presence would cause. He deserved to know what was happening. He loved her kids, and if she was honest, she trusted Ahmeek to care for Messari more than anyone else. This was a family emergency, and blood or not, Ahmeek was a part of their village. Morgan’s life had never been measured by blood. Her family had been pieced together by loyalty and love since the day Raven had been killed. Ahmeek qualified, but he also complicated things greatly. She knew Ahmeek would come to her if he knew about Yara’s condition, but she also knew his involvement would be hard on Messiah. She teetered with the idea of whose needs mattered most. Hers or Messiah’s. When Messiah entered the room and she saw the devastation on his face, she instantly deleted the text. They were Yara’s parents. Messiah was her father. No matter what her heart craved, she couldn’t make a move that she knew would hurt him. She was mad as hell at him. She felt betrayed. She wanted to knock his head off for lying to her about Bleu, but she still didn’t want to weaponize Ahmeek against Messiah. If Meek showed up, it wouldn’t go well. She put her phone away. She stared across the room at Messiah. They were both exhausted. His dark, handsome face was guilt-ridden. The worry burdened him, and Morgan felt such empathy for him that she sighed, releasing her animosity.

“Your friend gone?” Messiah asked.

“Yeah, he’s gone,” Morgan said. “We have to be on the same team through this, Ssiah.” Those SSs for ZZs mixed with the vulnerability in her tone told him that this was a white flag. Morgan was yielding, and this truce gave him instant relief. As big and bad as he was, when she was angry at him, he went from mammoth to mouse. Her disappointment shrank him every time.

“That’s all I want,” Messiah conceded. “You just so mad, Mo.”

Morgan pierced him with a stare full of disbelief, annoyance, and yup, he nailed it, anger. “Okay, Ssiah. What do you want me to feel? Just tell me. I’ll be however you want me to be. You want me to be a pushover? You want me to be silent and let you do whatever? You want me to be naïve and trust you again? You want me to be available and sleep with you whenever you want? You want me to be easy and climb in your bed again? You want me to be stupid and listen to the lies you ready to tell about you and Bleu? Go ahead; I’ll be whatever version makes you feel comfortable. They’re all versions I’ve been before for you, so it won’t be hard. How far you want me to reverse the hands of time? You want me to be deaf Mo?”

“I’m in love with deaf Mo, shorty. So, yeah,” Messiah shot back. “Be deaf Mo for me. Silence the noise and hear me only. Shit was good when it was like that.”

“You loved that girl, Ssiah, but I didn’t,” Morgan replied, shaking her head.

“Shit, do you love this girl?” he asked, waving his hand up and down like she wasn’t shit. He was presenting her to herself, and his disapproval was loud.

Morgan paused and thought about it. “I’m not perfect. I’m a mess most days. I’m spoiled, and I can be selfish. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but I kind of do, Messiah. I can look you in your eyes and stand on everything I’ve done. Right or wrong, good or bad, I can own my part because it’s a part of my story. Am I still learning to stand on my own? Am I still haunted by ghosts and memories of the past? Yeah. Two things can be true at once. I’m unhealed as fuck, but the mother I am, the friend I am, the love I give, and the shit that buried me that I climbed out of…” Morgan held his stare with a confidence that was developing in real time. “So, yeah, I kinda love this girl.”

Messiah’s heart splintered, yet pride warmed him at once. The girl he had left behind had a much smaller voice than she did now. Even through her missteps, Morgan was finding her way, and it caused a critical injury within him to think that her path was leading her in the opposite direction from him. He couldn’t even offer her a response because this version of her felt foreign. She used to take pride in relying on him. Her frailty was a thing of beauty. It gave him purpose. Her weakness made him feel needed. It was the thing fairytale princesses were made of, but Morgan no longer wanted to be the princess in the story. She was fine being the villain, and that type of woman was uncontrollable. It would be so much easier if she would just listen and let him lead, let him decide where fate would take them, but Morgan couldn’t follow what she didn’t trust. Messiah had no idea how to make up for what time had done to them. She was a totally different person, and he had missed the transformation, so he couldn’t quite grasp the concept of this new, updated model. Some niggas liked upgrading women. Messiah preferred the original.

“Guess a lot has changed,” Messiah noted.

“They changed me. Having them forced me to keep going, putting one foot in front of the other, even when I wanted to give up. I couldn’t. They needed to be fed, needed to be held, needed to be changed. They always needed me, so I had to live through the pain,” Morgan whispered as she stared at her sweet baby. “They’re the only reason I survived. I owe them everything.”

She sighed.

“I tried to be a good mom to them. I swear I did. They belonged to you, and they were all I had left of you, so I wanted to protect them. I didn’t protect them at all. First Bash, now this. I missed this. I didn’t pay enough attention. I just feel like this is my fault.”

Messiah crossed the room, empathy drawing him near as he took a seat beside her. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they stared straight ahead at Yara. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You are a good mom. That’s the one change that’s beautiful to see. I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to have my kids, Mo. We gon’ figure this shit out.”

Morgan gritted her teeth, eyes burning. Their baby was hurting, and she was petrified. The connection she had with her children was so potent that she couldn’t settle her soul. It was pure mutiny, sending off silent sirens to every neuron in her body. Morgan’s nervous system felt like it was hot-wired.

The knock that followed turned their attention to the door.

“Is there any change?” Ethic asked as he entered.