Being busy, staying in control, chasing order—those weren’t just habits. They were survival. Ever since Donnie and Letitia Hale left this world, the ground had split under me and Jada. Chaos tried to swallow us whole. She found her way to balance; I carved out mine. Different paths, same mission—make life make sense again.
I stretched my legs, studying my sister. “You ever stop to think what you’re really running from?”
Her fingers paused over the keys, hesitation flickering across her face before she forced herself back into motion. “You sound like Grandma.”
“Maybe she’s right,” I said, voice lower than I intended.
Silence stretched between us. The hum of her machines filled it, steady as breathing.
Finally, Jada sighed, pushed back from her desk. “You know what it is? I keep busy because busy don’t leave room for lonely.”
My chest tightened. “You lonely?”
She shrugged, eyes fixed on a plant by the window. “I wouldn’t even know if a man was looking my way. I’m always halfway across the country or glued to a screen when I’m not with Grandma on Sundays. Sometimes I think I’ve built my life so full, there’s no space for anything else.”
I thought about Rayna—her energy, her stubborn drive, the way she never let herself slow down enough to feel what scared her. “I know somebody like that,” I murmured.
“Yeah?” Jada’s smile was small. “You falling for her, huh?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Feels like it.”
She studied me, and for a second I saw Mama in her eyes. That same way of seeing more than you said.
“You know,” she said slowly, “when Mama and Daddy died, I thought love wasn’t for us. Thought we got responsibility instead. Grief made me think we were broken.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “But we weren’t.”
She shook her head. “No. We learned to build again. Different, but strong.” She met my eyes. “That makes you more ready for love, not less.”
I let that settle. Thought of Daddy’s hands showing me how to change the oil in a car, Mama’s humming while she cooked, Grandma’s table prayers that stitched us back together. They’d all taught us something about staying when things cracked. About choosing anyway.
“You always did run faster than me,” I said softly. “But you deserve to be chased too.”
Her smile wavered, then steadied. “Maybe one day.”
We fell quiet again, the kind of quiet that felt like a blanket instead of a wall.
I glanced at her desk, at the half-drunk coffee, the flickering cursor waiting on her. Then back at my sister, fierce and tired and brimming with more than she let anybody see.
And I thought of Rayna. How she carried her fears in silence. How she fought rest like it was weakness. How I could show her I wasn’t leaving?
I just had to keep showing up. Not leaving. Loving. Laughing. Being hers.
I stood, leaned over, kissed the top of Jada’s head. “I love you, sis.”
She swatted at me, but her eyes softened. “Love you too, Q.”
And when I left her apartment, I knew exactly where I was headed next.
Chapter 12
Line of Sight
Leaving work early felt like cutting class.
But the truth was, my head hadn’t been on the job all day. It kept wandering—to Quentin. To the way his hands steadied me whether it was over a pool table, tangled in sheets, or breaking down a Marvel movie like it was required reading.
Apparently, he’s an Avengers junkie. More specifically, a Tony Stark junkie. “Physics in a suit,” he’d said one night when we binged Iron Man on his couch. “Tony’s whole arcis just science applied to life—problem, solution, trial, error, refine. Force, vector, resultant.” He leaned forward like he was lecturing a class, eyes lit up, glasses sliding down his nose.
