I pulled out my phone and called Coye.
“What’s up, Babygirl?”
The way he called me that name sounded different from the way my dad or my brother said.
“Coye,” I choked out.
I closed my eyes as I leaned against my car.
“Are you home?” I asked as my voice quaked.
“I am. Are you okay?” The concern in his voice made more tears spill.
“Can I come over?” I chewed on my bottom lip.
“Of course. Are you okay driving?”
I told him I was and unlocked my car. For years, I had his number but used it maybe once or twice. It was never for anything serious.
We hung up the phone, and I headed to his house.
Twenty minutes or so later, I arrived at Coye’s house.
I managed to keep my tears at bay the whole ride, but I wasn’t sure how long it would last.
I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat, then got out of the car. The minute my car door closed, I heard Coye’s front door open.
He walked down the steps toward me as I walked the short way up his driveway.
Coye stopped in front of me. “Tell me what happened, Babygirl.” His husky voice made my temperature rise.
His cologne wrapped around my body. My vision was focused on socked feet in a pair of slides as tears quickly fell.
Coye placed his thick finger under my chin and lifted it. He used his big hands to wipe my face.
“Let’s go inside.” He put his arm around my shoulder and guided me to the steps.
We entered his house, and he showed me to the living room. I looked around at how dim the lights seemed to be. There was a candle that was lit on the table.
“Why is it so dark in here?” I asked when he took the seat next to me.
Coye chuckled. “It’s not that dark. I wasn’t sure where your head was at, so I wanted to create a relaxing atmosphere. I don’t like to see you cry.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck.
“My daddy won’t be getting chemo. He said it’s too far gone,” I blurted before a loud sob came out.
Coye snatched me into his arms and rubbed my back. “Shh. It’s going to be okay.” He comforted me as he continued running his hand up and down my back.
My fingers dug into the couch cushion, and I felt my chest tighten.
My loud cries were the only sound in the house. The harder I cried, the harder it became for me to breathe properly.
Coye pulled back. “Look at me, River.”
When I opened my eyes, his eyes were pinned on me. “Inhale.” The word came out so soft and soothing, but the spurts were coming out too quickly, so I found it hard to follow his instructions.
He sucked in a breath and put his hands on my shoulders. “Inhale, Babygirl,” he demanded when he exhaled.
