Page 263 of The Wright Man

He shrugged, shameless. "You love it."

My arms stayed wrapped around his neck as I looked into his eyes. That familiar, steady gaze that had anchored me through so much. "How did I ever go so long without you?" I whispered. "How did I think I could live without this?"

His voice was soft, sure, and full of that quiet Maleek steel. "You always had my heart. Even when we weren't speaking. Even when it hurt like hell to watch you go. It was always yours."

The air shifted—got heavier and sweeter, like it held its breath with us.

And I knew he could feel it too. The next words sitting on my tongue. The slight tension in his grip, the flicker in his eyes—hope, fear, vulnerability wrapped in this mountain of a man who'd walked through fire for me more than once.

"I love you, Maleek," I said, finally. Fully. No hesitation.

His whole face lit up. Not just a smile—something bigger, something deeper. He looked like a boy again. Like the one who used to chase me down the street with water balloons.

"Say it again," he said, his voice low.

"I love you," I said, smiling so hard it hurt.

He hauled me close. "Again."

"I love you." Our foreheads touched.

"Louder." He picked me up again, spinning me like a giddy, grown-ass Disney princess.

"I love you! I love you! I love you!" I chanted through laughter, not giving a single fuck who was watching.

He set me down and kissed me like I was the last sweet thing on Earth. Both hands full of ass. My hands sliding down his back. We groaned into each other like we didn't have any damn home training.

"Well this is just tooth-achingly sweet," came Andre's voice behind us. "But I don't recall agreeing to help with public indecency charges. I said one favor."

We turned, still wrapped up in each other, and Maleek dapped him up with a grin. "This don't count. Nobody got naked. Yet."

I laughed as Andre rolled his eyes.

"Thank you," I told him, genuine and warm. "You were incredible. Really. I'll send brownies. Or a bottle. Or something."

"No need," he said, hands in his pockets, his expression softening just slightly. "You did more for me than you know. I got my brothers back. And I get to see this fool happy for once." He nodded at Maleek. "That's payment enough."

My heart thumped. Full circle.

I hugged him without thinking. And for all his stiff-ass suits and stern-ass energy, he hugged me back.

"Okay now," Maleek said with a half-smile, narrowing his eyes. "That's long enough."

Andre pulled back with a smirk. "Relax. Nobody's going after your woman."

"Wouldn't be wise," Maleek muttered, pulling me back into his side.

I looked between them — these two men who hadn't spoken in years, who'd found their way back to each other through texts that went unanswered and one word sent on the worst night of Maleek's life. I'd never gotten the full story until Tuesday, when Andre pulled up to the house and I demanded they tell me everything.

Every day for four years, Andre had texted. Memes. Scriptures. Motivational quotes. Photos of their mama. "Love you, Shrimp." "Still here, bro." No response. Not even a read receipt. But he kept sending them anyway — because he knew his brother, and he knew that silence wasn't the same as gone.

Maleek never blocked him. He just couldn't bring himself to text back. Not yet.

Until the day I got married.

Maleek had walked out of the reception angry and heartbroken, pacing outside the venue with his fists clenched, barely keeping himself from breaking something. And that's when his phone buzzed.

A text from Andre. Something simple and eerily timed: "No matter how bad it feels, this won't break you. You were built for more."