Page 80 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

Messiah pulled her off his shoulder and held up the crayons. She turned around, expressing interest, so Khadeen stood and retrieved a highchair that sat near the door.

Messiah sat Yara inside it, freeing his hands. He gently stroked her messy curls, leaning in to kiss her cheeks before setting up her coloring book.

Khadeen sat elbows atop the table, fingers laced and supporting her chin, watching him.

The food came next, and they ate in silence, a comfortable one because Messiah couldn’t really put words to everything he was feeling. He carried his sorrow on his shoulders, hunching over his meal, brow tense, and eyes threatening failure at any second.

“At least she’s eating,” Khadeen said softly.

Messiah nodded, then blew out a forceful breath, trying to firm up his gut because it was hollower than a bitch.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Messiah,” Khadeen sighed. Khadeen hated how raw she felt. It was like she could feel what he felt, and it was gut-wrenching. She laid both her hands on the table, palms up, and he stared at them for a while. When he grabbed onto her, his face contorted as he built up forts in his heart to guard his emotions.

“You don’t have to be afraid to be a father, Messiah. You’re holding back tears because you think it makes you weak. When you first started coming to me, you were devastated because you didn’t know your twins. You didn’t know what being a father was like or if you could do it. This is what it feels like. It’s the most vulnerable position you will ever play. You prayed for this type of connection with your babies. Parents don’t get to pick and choose the battles. It’s a journey that’s filled with many rewards, but it has challenges, too. This is one of them, but you’re walking in the shoes you wished for, Messiah. Hold your head up and own everything you feel. Don’t hide from it. You can do this, and she will beat this.”

He nodded but didn’t speak, and she withdrew her hands, reaching for her purse. “We should get Yara back,” she suggested.

Messiah lifted from his seat and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill, leaving it on the table.

He picked Yara up and then led the way back to the car. He strapped her into the backseat. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to stop himself from leaving the hospital without a car seat.

“I’ll drive safely,” Khadeen said. He followed her around to the driver’s side and opened her door.

He stared off, avoiding eye contact, and then finally met her gaze. She had the prettiest eyes. They were dark, like ocean water that reflected the moonlight. Her stare held the type of depth that you wondered if you could survive if you jumped in.

“I don’t know how you know how to make shit better for me, KD, but you do,” Messiah said. “And it’s kind of fucking me up because my heart been reserved for a long time. I got a lot going on right now, so I could be misinterpreting this shit. Am I?”

“I’m your therapist,” she reasoned, her brow tense as her heart sank. He wanted her to confirm something that could get her in serious trouble. This could derail her entire life and ruin a career she had worked extremely hard for. She had gotten invested in her patients before. She rooted for them. She wanted them to overcome every obstacle in their lives, but this thing with Messiah, it was creeping into dangerous territory. “I don’t know what this is.”

“You know, but it’s all good,” Messiah said impatiently. “Let’s head back, Doc.”

She felt his indifference instantly. Messiah was a temperamental creature. He went from caring to not giving a fuck in seconds when he felt like someone was wasting his time with bullshit. She hated that she cared about how he felt about her. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, Messiah.”

“It don’t matter what you say as long as it’s real,” Messiah demanded. He was overly annoyed at the confusion, at the blurred lines. He couldn’t dominate her the way he did every other woman in his life, but he desperately wanted to. “How you feel, shorty?”

The warning look she gave him made him correct himself. “Khadeen,” he rephrased. “A nigga in his body real bad about you.”

“I don’t even know what that means, Messiah,” she replied exasperated. “You talking about keep it real with you. Frame these emotions for me. Be real grown about it, Messiah. No hard shit. Stop trying to be cool. You be real first, and maybe I can tell if you’re serious or if you’re just looking for a new woman to conquer since Bleu’s spot is now vacant. You want somebody to make you feel big when Morgan falls off the pedestal you have her on and reminds you she’s a young woman who desires experiences that don’t include you. I’m nobody’s side chick, Messiah, and you can’t use me as a place to come lick your wounds or restore your ego.”

“Side chick?” he sucked his teeth. “I got feelings for you, KD,” he said plainly. “Usually, a nigga sees some fine shit and might want to knock it down real quick, but it’s just that. A physical attraction. My heart been in the same place for years. That ain’t this. I’m feeling some shit I ain’t felt before, and I’m bringing it to your door. I ain’t trying to do shit on the side with you. I’m trying to do shit right for you, let go of my past for you. I want to pick you up on a Friday night on some grown shit. I don’t date bitches out here. I’m trying to date you, KD. I want to earn your time and your loyalty, because I know you ain’t letting a nigga get close to eating that pussy without courting you first, and I’m trying to do that. That clear enough for you?”

Khadeen was flummoxed. She didn’t know if his frankness offended her or turned her on.

“It isn’t real,” she whispered, shaking her head. “This is a trauma response. You’re hurting. Things have blown up with Bleu and with Morgan. Your daughter is very sick, and you’re attaching yourself to me because you’re afraid. It’s a coping mechanism.”

Messiah tilted her chin, and Khadeen looked up at him. “I hear your professional opinion. Now tell me what you feel,” Messiah demanded.

“I’m confused, Messiah, please,” she whispered. “I can’t think when you’re in my space.” Messiah took a step away, but she caught his shirt, pulling him right back.

It was all she wrote. Messiah knew then how this would end. This push-and-pull shit. This fighting feelings they couldn’t hide shit. He was going through the hardest time of his life, and she made everything better. He didn’t know what it meant, but he wasn’t willing to let it walk out the door. He was tired of making excuses to see her, sick of chance meetings. He needed access, personal access. If she were a remedy for his pain, he needed to bottle her up and keep her close.

“You might not know better, but I do. I wear the burden of responsibility here. You’re walking around undiagnosed and traumatized, and we can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t do this. It’s an abuse of power, Messiah. Feelings don’t matter.”

He rested his forehead against hers, and he could feel her trembling nervously as she placed her hands against his chest while he placed a hand to her hip, pulling her into his body. “I hear all that, and I still don’t give a fuck.” Khadeen’s breaths were heavy, and Messiah drank her in as they stood outside her car like passionate lovers. She anticipated his next move as he was trying his hardest not to take her there too fast. “You have no idea how much restraint I’m showing right now.” Being this close to something so forbidden made Khadeen’s head spin. Their physical chemistry was off the charts, and her body was begging to be touched. The mental chemistry was stronger, and it was what had led them down this uncharted road to begin with.

Khadeen fluttered her eyes open and frowned when she saw the man creeping up behind them.