Page 111 of The Wright Man

"No," he said, more forcefully. "This isn't about you. Or Gavin. Or revenge. This is about me needing to fix myself before I break everything I touch. Before I end up buried next to Mama or in a cell next to Kareem."

I stared at him, heart frozen and racing at the same time.

"I need… something. I need something bigger than me. I need to grow the fuck up before I burn bridges with the people who love me. I need to be better. For me. For Kareem. For Mama."

His voice softened.

"For you."

My eyes welled again. This time I didn't wipe the tears away.

He didn't owe me this. He wasn't asking me to wait. He wasn't making promises. He was choosing himself. Choosing healing. Not for us. But because he finally realized he deserved it.

And still, my heart cracked open wider.

I nodded. Swallowed the lump in my throat. Pulled him back in and held him like maybe if I hugged him hard enough, I could stay with him. Go with him. Be with him, even if I didn't say the words out loud.

He held me just as tight.

"When do you leave?" I asked against his chest.

"Two weeks."

I took a breath. Let it shake. Pulled back and wiped my eyes with the hem of my sleeve.

Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

"Who you texting?" he asked, confused.

"Gavin," I said without looking up, typing with fast fingers. "Letting him know I'm not going out tonight."

"Ang, you don't have t—"

"Hush," I smiled through the tears. "Someone has to help you pack."

And just like that, we were us again.

Bent. Bruised. But never broken. Not completely.

Not as long as we still had each other.

* * *

Angelica

Now

The doorbell rang, slicing clean through my reverie like a paper cut.

"Sweet Ronald McDonald, thank God," Bella groaned, peeling herself off the loveseat like the resurrection was personal and padding barefoot toward the front door.

I blinked, shaking off the tears still stinging the corners of my eyes. That memory—the first time Maleek and I broke—had been sitting on my chest like a weighted blanket. Warm. Smothering. Familiar. But I wasn't about to let it ruin this morning. Not after everything. Not after last night.

Not when my "phoenix era," as Bella called it, had officially begun.

Tina strolled back in from the deck like she'd just solved world peace.

"Okay, crisis averted," she announced dramatically, kicking the sliding glass door shut behind her. "I made him share his screen and delete the titty pics where I could see them."