Page 35 of The One He Desires

I enter the bathroom and turn on the shower, setting the water temperature to almost boiling. Once that’s done, I walk to the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. The visible handprint around my neck makes me want to shed more tears. But it also infuriates me at BN’s audacity. The more I stare at myself, the angrier I get. I can’t believe BN thought this was the route to go.

“Bitch-ass nigga,” I grumble as I force myself to leave the sink and climb in the shower.

I step into the shower, and the water cascades down my frame, allowing me to take a deep, cleansing breath. Either the water is the thing that snaps me out of my melancholy mood, or the reminder of the bruise around my neck. Whatever it is, by the time I leave the shower, I know that some people only respond to violence, and I’ll be ready for BN when he comes back. He will never get his hands on my daughter. Fuck him.

Two Days Later . . .

I wish I could say that my busy and full schedule has me out of touch with days and time. But that would be a lie, which isn’t something I pride myself on. Initially, Journee’s reason for not seeing me didn’t raise any red flags. Instead, I was hoping that she would be fine and shake off whatever was making her sick. Now, though, I’m unsure of what’s going on. Her responses to my check-ins have been vague, if she replies at all.

For a couple in the newborn phase of their relationship, I’m not sure what to make of it. I’ve also been going back and forth about our interactions, conversations, dates, and everything else, trying to figure out whether I’m the cause of this separation. But each and every time, I come back to the night we had sex, and none of what I did explains what’s happening now. I’m not one to toot my own horn, but I know what I do in the bedroom. None of it warrants a woman to retreat like my dick is two inches long.

“Forget this.” I stand and head to my bedroom to put on some clothes.

I’ve been home from work for about an hour and have been unable to think about anything other than Journee. At this point, and with the title of her man, I’m about to do a pop-up. I don’t normally do this kind of thing, but at this point, I’m tired of overthinking and wondering if I’m the problem. I also don’t like not knowing if she’s good. It takes me no time to put on joggers, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. I walk out of my room and take the steps to the bottom floor two at a time. I grab my keys from the ceramic bowl by the front door and head to the attached garage.

Less than five minutes later, I back out of my garage, driveway, and head off my street toward Journee’s apartment. Despite the music that plays around the interior, my mind is occupied with what will happen once I lay eyes on Journee. A couple of minutes into my ride, my phone rings through the speakers, and I frown at the sight of Jamarion’s name.

“What did you do?”

Jamarion doesn’t call me regularly, so my question is aggressive since I don’t need anything to divert me from my current route. A low chuckle bounces around the vehicle, causing a frown to slide into place.

“Damn, cuz. You don’t have any confidence in me, huh?”

“That depends on the reason for this call. What can I do for you, Mr. Pierce?”

More laughter comes through the receiver as I come to a red light.

“Oh, yeah. You switched to that goofy professional tone. But I’m not in trouble . . . yet.”

My eyes pinch, and I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I dig for more information since Jamarion is being so vague.

“What does that mean?”

“What did you do to Journee? I’ve been trying to get her on the phone since yesterday to set up something for me to see Mimi, and she’s not answering.”

Jamarion’s information causes my forehead to wrinkle and my thoughts to reel as I process what he’s said. While Journee has replied vaguely to my texts, she hasn’t completely ignored me. She just hasn’t been very open or forthcoming in her responses or in her request for us to get together.

“I haven’t done anything. I’m actually on my way to her apartment to check on them.”

“Great minds think alike because so am I. Silence ain’t like Journee, and I ain’t feeling the shit.”

“Alright. I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Say less.” Jamarion disconnects the call, and my thoughts take flight as I attempt to figure out what’s going on with Journee.

In my experience with women, sickness shouldn’t cause Journee to move funnily or be unlike herself. If she’s ignoring Jamarion, who she knew first, it makes me wonder if something else is going on. It also makes me happy that I didn’t decide to wait her out. Determination cuts my drive by three minutes. I see Jamarion standing across from the elevators when I enter the lobby.

“Oh, you decided to wait for me?” I say it as more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I figured it would be easier, just in case I need to beat your ass depending on how Journee handles this pop-up. You sure you ain’t done anything to piss her off and have her dissing me as a result?”

I wave Jamarion off because the last thing I’m worried about is him thinking I’ll let him kick my ass. I push the elevator button, and thankfully, the door opens a second later.

“I ain’t playing. Cousin or not, I told you not to fuck over my people.” Jamarion enters the shaft after me with a glare that doesn’t faze me in the least.

“My only concern is Sweet Face and Journee.”

Jamarion grumbles, and I dismiss it once the elevator ascends as my mind contemplates how Journee is going to take this double pop-up. The elevator stops on the designated floor for my little family, and I step off, my focus on laying eyes on Journee.