Page 130 of The Wright Man

And when Boyd's father died and left him the keys to the family business, degree requirement be damned, Gavin barely packed before he was in the passenger seat, riding shotgun into nepotism's wet dream.

Meanwhile, I stayed.

I stayed and worked my ass off—finished school, got my license, took every freelance job I could, and stacked up salon hours until I had a clientele list and a résumé that looked like I'd been in the game for a decade.

And now I was done.

My family—Daddy, Tina, and Bella—came up for graduation, all loud and proud in the bleachers. Gavin came too, dragging Boyd and Theo with him like it was a boys' trip and not the culmination of my entire adult life. But whatever. That moment wasn't for them. It was mine.

And Maleek's.

He couldn't be there, but I needed to see his face, hear his voice. I called him the second I got a second alone, still wearing the bodycon dress I'd had on under my cap and gown. He answered on the first ring, blurry and pixelated as hell, the signal lagging and jumpy—but it didn't matter.

The second I saw his face, I felt like I could finally exhale.

His hair was cut close now, military clean, and it still caught me off guard. But everything else was so unmistakably him—those warm eyes, that slow smile that always felt like safety. He looked good. Strong. Something close to happy.

"Show me them papers, girl!" he grinned, and I damn near beamed as I held up my diploma to the camera. He grinned like he'd earned it with me, and honestly? He kind of had.

"Your girl's official," I said, glowing. "Certified and degreed."

"You did it, Angel. Look at you." His voice was proud in a way I didn't even know I needed. "First thing you're doing when you get back?"

"Wings and mumbo sauce from the carryout by the airport. Ten piece. Extra crispy. Fries well done."

He groaned like I'd just described heaven. "Damn, I miss home. Save me some."

"Maybe. If you stop complaining about the brownies I sent you."

"I ain't complain, I just said I missed the lemon squares."

I rolled my eyes. "Ingrate."

"Nah. I just got high standards."

I rolled my eyes. "You want lemon squares, make 'em yourself, Chef Boyar-please."

We laughed. Fell right back into it. That rhythm. That ease. Like no time had passed at all.

"So," he began, "what's next for my favorite Reed sister?"

Before I could answer, I heard Bella yell "I heard that, punk!" from somewhere in the background.

"Fuck you too, then!" Tina added.

We ignored them, as always.

"Avoiding cubicle life at all costs," I said. "I'm gonna go into business for myself. Maybe open a salon."

"World domination, one sew-in at a time."

"Damn right."

And then... quiet.

The kind that made my skin itch.

I was stalling. He knew it.