That got a reaction. Her head turned slightly, just enough to cut her eyes at me.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I kept my voice low, mindful of Yusef in the back. “You ain’t mad about those panties. Not really. There’s something else going on with you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I do.” I switched lanes, passing a slow-moving truck. “I’ve been thinking about it for two days. The way you reacted—that wasn’t just about Farah. That was about something deeper. Something you ain’t telling me.”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”
“You’re using those panties as an excuse.” I glanced at her, saw her flinch. “You were looking for a reason to push me away. And Farah’s shit gave you one.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then look me in my eye and tell me you really believe I fucked her.”
She didn’t respond.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Just drive, Prime.” Her voice was tired now. Defeated. “Please. I can’t do this right now.”
I wanted to push. Wanted to make her tell me what was really going on. What secret she was holding so tight it was suffocating both of us.
But Yusef was in the back. And we had a parole hearing to get through.
So I let it go.
For now.
The prison rose upout of the Maryland mountainside like a concrete nightmare.
Gray walls. Guard towers. Razor wire glinting in the morning sun. The kind of place that swallowed men whole and spit out whatever was left years later.
I’d done time. Knew what these places did to you. The thought of Meech spending years inside, regardless of what he’d done, made something in my chest twist.
We parked in the visitor lot and I cut the engine.
“Yusef.” I turned to look at him. “Wake up, lil man. We’re here.”
He stirred, blinking awake, confusion flickering across his face before he registered where we were. Then something else crossed his features.
Fear.
“You good?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He straightened up, trying to compose himself. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine. But I didn’t push.
We got out of the car and made our way toward the entrance. Zahara walked slightly ahead, putting distance between us. Yusef stayed close to me, like he needed the protection.
Inside, the process was dehumanizing as always. Metal detectors. Pat-downs. IDs checked and double-checked. Everything you brought in scrutinized like you were the criminal.
Zahara moved through it all with a strange calmness. She was almost detached. I knew she ain’t wanna be here and I couldn’t blame her.
Finally, we were led to the hearing room.
