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“Don’t worry about that. She can stay here for as long as she needs to.”
Drowning out their conversation, I checked my text thread with Ashley’s mother. The first thing I did this morning was call the hospital the detective told me Ashley had been taken to for information. She was alive, but she was in a coma. He shot her in the chest and head. It wasn’t looking good, but Ashley was a fighter, so her parents hadn’t given up on her yet.
Neither would I.
Saint opened the door, and I avoided his eyes as I got out. I was sure mine were puffy from all the crying I’d done. At this point, I was less afraid, yet more guilty. All I could think about was how things would have played out if I wouldn’t have said anything. If I wouldn’t have drawn his attention to me. If Ashley wouldn’t have pulled his mask off.
Would he have still shot her?
Saint told me not to think that way. That he possibly could have shot me, too. But he hadn’t, and I had a bit of survivor’s remorse because of that, too.
Maybe if I had stayed at my apartment, he would have just knocked her out and took whatever he wanted. I had too many questions and scenarios playing in my head right now.
“You gon’ be aight?” Saint asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweats.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks, brother.”
“Always. I’ll reach out when I touch down in Miami. Call me if you need me, aight?”
Nodding, I inhaled a shaky breath. “Thanks for everything, Saint.” I looked in his eyes as I told him, “I love you.”
He smiled softly as he pulled me into his chest and gave me a one-armed hug. “I love you too, sis.”
I held him close, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. Honestly, I didn’t want to let him go… not since we’d met fifteen years ago. Saint and I had the same father with different mothers. I don’t think he had a relationship with his mother at all. We met when our father died. At his funeral. Our grandparents raised Saint and we had established a genuine relationship over the last few years. It would have been nice to know them as a child, but I had them now, and that was all that mattered.
As much as I wanted to see them, I decided not to bring them into my mess. There was something about that man’s eyes that instilled a deep fear within me. One that made me believe he’d come after me if he needed to. I didn’t want to be involved in the investigation, but just in case I had no choice, I wanted to make sure my family remained safe.
It was different with Saint and his friends. They were young warriors. I felt safe with all of them, but it was different with Hosea. I didn’t just feel safe with him physically when I was around him. He took care of me, too. He took care ofeveryone. That was his nature. With what I’d witnessed, I didn’t know how I would process this. As soon as Saint asked me where I wanted to go, Hosea was the first person who came to mind.
Saint released me and placed a kiss to the center of my forehead, which was a first. He held my hand, holding my eyes, as if he didn’t want to leave. I smiled with one side of my mouth and caressed his hand with my thumb.
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything. Hosea made his way next to Saint, and as soon as our eyes locked, mine watered. Gently, Hosea covered Saint’s hand with his own. He released the grip Saint had on my hand, assuring him, “I got her, Saint. I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”
Saint’s brows wrinkled as he nodded. He patted his chest softly before thanking Hosea and walking to his side of the car.
Hosea and I took a step back and watched Saint drive away. I pouted for only a quick second. As much as I tried to assure him I would be okay, I knew my brother would make his way back to Memphis as quickly as he could. I guess in Saint’s mind, we had a lot of time to make up for, and I didn’t mind that at all.
I looked up at Hosea to find him already looking down at me. I couldn’t read his expression, but it made my heart clench.
“Hi,” I spoke softly, suddenly feeling just as shy and nervous as I felt when we first met.
“Hey,” he replied, just as quietly, and that made me relax for some reason. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better, but I won’t complain. How are you?”
“I’m well. I guess we should get you upstairs. Have you eaten?”
When he released me to grab my bags, my eyes shifted to my now empty hand. Just that brief moment of being encapsulated by him had branded me.
“Tink,” Hosea called, regaining my attention.
“Yes?”
“Have you eaten?”
“I don’t have an appetite.”
