Page 86 of 4 Corinthians

“What?”

“Look at me like that,” I told her. Her eyes told her on her. They were shifty; she was hanging on by a thread. “Cori-“

She stopped moving the Pack ‘N Play out of the room, closed the door, locked it, and looked at me. “Stop calling me that!” She moved fast, crossing the room and got in my face as best she could. I had a good foot on her, and at least a hundred pounds. “Do not call me that!” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You’ve been stalking me! You show up after all this time! Your cousin just magically showed up a year ago, after all that, and now, you’re here? I don’t believe that you aren’t here for Robert.”

“I don’t fuck with that nigga!” I snapped. For a second, Corinthians looked afraid, but she quickly fixed her face. “Say what you want about that other shit but don’t link me with him! I haven’t seen him in years. Not since my uncle came to the hospital and saw me. He saved me. I haven’t seen Robert in years!”

“You’re lying!” She pushed me in the chest, then swung. Her hits came fast. Years of training and abuse came in handy as she hit me. I could feel her hitting, the pressure of her fist connecting, but no pain. I planned to let her tire herself out so that we could talk, but I saw the light gleam of her knife as she pulled it from her back. I moved quickly, grabbed her wrist, turned us so that her back hit the wall, and I put her hands above her head. “Let me go!”

“Stop!” I yelled at her, then slammed her hands against the wall to make her drop the knife. “I’m not there to hurt you! Chill out!”

“I’d rather die than let you take my baby or me!” She yelled, fighting back. She wasn’t hearing shit I was saying; she was in survival mode. The fear that I knew lived right below the surface was showing its face. “Let me go!”

“Not until you calm down!”

“No!” She kicked me in the thigh, but I didn’t move. “Let me go!”

“Corinthians, I’m not here to hurt you.” I rested my forehead against hers. “Please believe me. I would never hurt you.” My voice was low. “Please, Cori.”

“Uri, you have to fight me back,” she cried. I opened my eyes to see tears falling from her eyes. She sounded so much like that little girl I’d met so long ago. Her eyes were filled with fear. “Fight me, and it’ll stop. Please.”

“I can’t,” I finally said. I lifted my head, stepped back, and slowly let go of her wrist. “I can't.” I slowly moved to the other side of the room; my back rested against the floor-to-ceiling window. “I can’t fight you.”

I watched as Corinthians stood there, knife in hand, chest heaving as she stared at me. Her pain was obvious. Psalms was right. I would trigger her no matter how good my intentions were.

“He’s always been in the background too,” Corinthians said, looking at me. She looked back at the closed door. “No matter what I do, he’s always there, waiting.”

“I’ve been protecting you,” I said, shaking my head. I sat on the floor, knowing I had to make myself small so she would calm down. “Since your parents died. I’ve been there.”

She turned to look at me, her expression unreadable. I don’t know if she believed me, but I prayed that she did. I’d done everything that I could from the background. Was it perfect? No, but I’d tried because she deserved that peace. “Are you here for my son?”

No, I wasn’t here for her child. He was hers. She needed him just as much as he needed her. There was nothing that could make me want to take Judah. That wasn’t my place.

I chuckled, then shook my head. “I’m not here for Judah,” I finally said. I rested the back of my head against the window and looked up at her. “I’m here for you.”

“You know what I did to the Franklins?” Not only did I know, but I was proud.

“I saw the pictures,” I answered. Trey sent me pictures of Psalms and Corinthians' handiwork. It was bloody in the best possible way. They had done a good job, but they hadn’t done enough. It had taken a few different teams to clean up their mess and a lot of hush money. Yet, none of the DeCortes knew they had done it. Exodus's friend Wednesday made sure of that. “But I ain’t here about that either.”

“You’re not?” she asked. Her eyes held so much—fear, pain, anger, interest, and something else I wouldn’t name. Not because I didn’t know; it was because I did. I just wasn’t ready to admit it because I knew it was the same look in my eyes.

“Nah,” I chuckled. “I came for work. I have a client; I wanted to meet them in person.” It was partially true. “Seeing you at the restaurant was pure luck.”

“Luck?” she asked, and I nodded. “How was it luck?”

I wiped my hand over my mouth. “I decided that I was done hiding,” I told her. “If Robert wanted me, he would have to come and get me. I can’t even lie; I was about to do some dumb ass shit.”

Her brow went up. “Why?”

“I’m tired of living in the shadows,” I told her truthfully. Judah started to cry, and we both looked at the closed door. “Get him.”

Corinthians nodded, licked her pretty ass lips, then set her knife on the dresser as she passed it to get Judah. She opened the door, and I could see him standing in the Pack ‘N Play. The moment he saw her, he stopped crying and put his arms up for her to pick him up.

“Dada!” he said, looking up at her.

Corinthians laughed softly, picked him up, and kissed his forehead. “One day you’re going to get it right, big man,” she said, walking back into the room. I expected her to stay on the other side of the room, but she didn’t; she came and sat next to me on the floor. Judah sat in her lap, his head resting against her chest. We sat in silence like we did when we were kids. The moon shone down on her face, showing her natural beauty. “Nine being friends with my cousins means we will see each other.” She rested her head on my shoulder, and I put my hand down between us. Corinthians put her hand over mine and interlaced our fingers. “If you come back, we can't know each other. I can't be Cori, and you can't be Uri.”

“I know,” I told her as I looked down at our hands. “You get to be Corinthians, and I get to be Four.”