Page 39 of The One He Desires

My brows draw together as I watch Journee’s tight shoulders, blank eyes as she bites the corner of her lip. I’m not sure if she realizes that she’s zoned out. Her eyes fill with multiple unreadable expressions that do little to settle me. I’m not sure whether the suggested bath will be for her benefit or mine at this point. What I do know is that removing her and Sweet Face from that apartment was imperative.

Based on the determined gaze in Brian’s eyes, I have no doubt that he would have returned once he felt the coast was clear. The purplish bruise and handprint on Journee’s neck let me know that he hadn’t stooped low enough. But what he doesn’t know is that I’ll never allow him another opportunity to do it again.

“Let’s go check on my Sweet Face.”

The longer I stare at Journee’s unsettled expression, the more I want to forget the years of hard work it took for me to obtain my law degree. Journee looks like she’s gonna burst into tears at any second.

“Oh. Yeah, we should.”

My jaw clenches when Journee speaks in a distant voice that’s void of her usual peaceful and happy state in my presence. The usual light in her eyes is also dim, with a low flicker of fear that grinds my gears. I connect our hands and note the light tremor as we leave the bathroom. I’m a little surprised by this version of Journee because the woman I met when she thought I was doing something to harm her child is the exact opposite. It makes me wonder whether this is a normal occurrence in her relationship with Brian. I can’t wait for our bath so I can learn what happened along with their history.

“You have a beautiful home, Sincere. Thank you for bringing us here.” Journee’s voice sounds as we step into the hallway.

“I should have done it sooner if I’m being honest. But you’re welcome.”

It takes a couple of minutes for us to reach the room where Sweet Face is, and a smile upturns my lips when we enter. Despite the bed's size, Sweet Face stretches across its entire surface, her body resembling an octopus. It’s the cutest and funniest sight I’ve ever seen, and it helps ease some of the tension building in my shoulders. My mind has been working double time with ways to make Brian’s life the living hell that he’s attempting to do to Sweet Face and Journee. These two already have my heart, and I’ll be damned if I let a nothing ass nigga come in and change the peace that they once had. It also amazes me that men can play in a woman’s face and then act like they're the victim in the situation.

“My goodness. My poor baby didn’t waste any time getting settled in.” Journee’s voice is light with humor that causes a smile to slide into place.

The cheesy grin I’m wearing can’t be helped, because an image of Sweet Face permanently occupying this room enters my mind.

“She looks comfortable to me, and I love that for her. Do you think she needs to eat, or were y’all able to do so before the unexpected visitor disturbed your evening?”

“Thankfully, I had already made dinner and got us fed. But I’m wondering if I need to wake her up to give her a bath. I probably should have done it before I got caught up in your bathroom daydreaming.”

Yeah, she was definitely preoccupied with thoughts, as the evidence is still visible in her eyes. Sometimes having multiple reasons to keep myself together can be problematic in and of itself. I have lots to lose, but in this moment, as Journee and I stare at my Sweet Face, I wonder if her peace isn’t worth the risks. Given my career choice, I should remember that my actions can have lasting consequences. But the slight tremor still in Journee’s hand as we stand here is making me consider my alternatives. It also doesn’t help that Jamarion feels like the job of defending Sweet Face and Journee rests with him.

What kind of man would I be if I let my cousin avenge these two? My feelings for Journee are growing by the minute, and I’m falling for her, which means I would be less than a man to allow anyone but me to handle this situation. But the thing is, figuring out how far I should take things.

“I think I’m going to just let her sleep and then give her a quick bath in the morning,” Journee says.

I sigh contentedly at the prospect of having the conversation that will ultimately determine how I move forward. Journee and I ease out of the room as she closes the door until there’s a small crack in it.

“Do you have any wine?”

“I’m not really a wine type of man, but I think I have some liquor stocked in my bar. There should be a mix of dark and light. What’s your preference?”

I make a mental note to grab several bottles of wine before I leave the office tomorrow evening.

“I need a cross from knuck if buck and let’s chill.”

I take a moment to think about what I have as we head to the stairs and down to the first floor.

“For a minute you had me wondering if you lost your ability to knuck and buck.” A small smile slides into place just as we reach the bottom step.

Instead of joining in my humor, Journee sighs heavily, and my anxiousness returns instantly. I don’t think I can wait for the bath; we’re about to start this conversation over some dark liquor. A little knucking-and-bucking might be beneficial for both of us. Violence isn’t the method I choose, but I might need to briefly revisit my upbringing. Growing up, I had to prove that I wasn’t as soft as my high GPA indicated. It’s been a while since I’ve had to lose myself to anger and get active. But for Sweet Face and Journee, I just might have spoken in nonlegal terms because some people only respond to hands being thrown.

My chest burns as the warm liquid slides down my throat ten minutes later. Journee and I are in my sitting room drinking as Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins plays on the TV mounted above my fireplace. Her legs comfortably rest in my lap as my eyes rake over her slightly calmer countenance. Had I known all she needed was a little dark liquor, I would have saved my bedroom tour for later. Thanks to my full bottle of Woodford Reserve, Journee looks lighter and freer. That fact becomes obvious once she speaks, which prevents me from having to lead the conversation.

“I have never had a man put his hands on me, including my father. I’ll admit that it not only caught me off guard but also scared me. I thought that if I responded sporadically to your messages that you wouldn’t suspect that anything was wrong. I guess I didn’t do a good job at pretending, huh?”

“Nah. I was done letting you dodge me. Hell, I missed you and the sound of your voice. Then you retreated after putting that good pussy on me, and that shit just ain’t right.”

Journee giggles, and the sound bounces off my walls and hits me in the chest like one of Cupid’s arrows. I can’t help but join her as the light returns to her eyes, and my heart skips a beat as I get lost in her humor.

“I’m sorry. It was never my intention. But boy did life come in and slap the hell out of me on the heels of what was a great night.”

Now I smile like she told me my dick is laced in gold bars or something. I’m not sure how else to take her words, though. Although, I will admit that knowing life took a dip as a result of a man who should never get to breathe her air irks the piss out of me. I blame Judge Freedman for letting this lame out on some reform bullshit that his greasy attorney practiced with him.