“You’re finished, Quade. I win. This little stunt is on camera. You go back to jail; I collect.”
“What cameras?” I smashed the bat into his knee as I dropped it, trading it out for my gun. He glanced toward the corner of the room where the little red light used to blink, but it wasn’t on. Someone had handled that already.
“Look at me,” I said. “You will never make another dime off me.” I cocked my gun. Just then, the door burst open, and Ron grabbed my arm hard.
“Yo, he’s not worth it,” he said, but I could barely hear him through the rage.
“He is worth it. He won’t stop ruining my life till I delete his ass. He almost killed Noa.”
“I hear you. I heard him. But that setup brought you more than he took away. You got out smarter, wiser. Your flow got depth, and you got Noa. He’s gon’ get his.”
I looked down at Terence as he trembled in front of me. For a second, all I saw was anger. Then I saw Noa’s face, the way she looked at me like her hero, and I lowered the gun. I stood overhim breathing heavily, before bending down and picking up my bat.
“You gon’ get yours,” I said as I walked out of the office. Ron didn’t say a word. He just followed me down the hall, down the elevator to where Blue and Dru stood.
“We done?”
“Yeah.” I nodded as we made our way back out and into the parking lot.
“My boys got what we needed. We have the receipts for payments to the arsonist.” Blue fanned a stack of papers in the air. “This will be enough to make the charges stick.”
“Good.” I gave one last glance at the Savage Row building before I reached my car and pulled open the door. I tossed the bat in the back seat, slid into the driver’s seat, and let my head fall back against the headrest. I was free.
I didn’t knowwhat to expect from today’s appointment, but hearing Dr. Easton say there was a possibility I could walk again wasn’t it. I rubbed my ears, trying to make sure I’d heard her correctly.
“Excuse me? Walk?” I cocked my head to the side, needing her to slow down.
“Yes, Noa, walk. Of course, it would take time, and I’m not talking full walking, but assisted for short periods of time,” she added, “and only if that’s truly something you want. It’s going to be challenging, and it won’t happen overnight. We’d have to get you into physical therapy and monitor your inflammation closely.”
I nodded because I couldn’t quite find the words to respond. I’d asked about walking again nearly every appointment, but I never truly believed I’d ever be able to, and now here she was telling me it was possible. If I got any more good news, I was gonna be a babbling mess of tears. The universe had really been doing its big one lately. I was painting more, working on my own fashion collection. This week, I’d even been able to sleep through the night without waking up to images of flames or images of Quade’s old label head. And it felt like I was finally living again. My life seemed to be shifting ever since his bond had been revoked and he was put in jail until the trial.
I glanced over at Quade who was standing beside me, sharing the same shocked expression on his face. His hand wrapped around mine. He’d brought me to my appointment, even though Teagan could take me. He wanted to be present, and I appreciated that so much.
“So, what would that look like? The therapy?” he asked the doctor.
“Slow and consistent,” she replied. “We’d focus on leg strength, gait training, and pain response. Some adaptive aids in the beginning. Think of it as less like aiming for a finish line and more like teaching your body a new rhythm.” My heart pounded, and I just nodded my head. I was speechless. Dr. Easton continued. “If you want to reclaim mobility, even partially, it’s worth exploring.”
“I think I’d like to try.” I nodded my head.
“Great! I’ll get the referral started. We’ll be careful, but we’ll also be hopeful.” She scribbled a few notes, then leaned forward. She offered a soft smile before standing and heading toward the door. “You’re doing better than you think, Noa. We’ll see you soon.” The click of the door behind her left a hush in the room.
I blinked at the space she’d just walked out of, my heart still catching up. “Walking,” I whispered, like the word alone might jinx it. “Wow.”
Quade slid his hand over mine. “Yeah, baby. Walking.” His voice was low, steady, like he’d already seen it and believed it. “You gon’ do it, too. I already see you out there, fine as hell, struttin’ through the house in those little ass shorts.”
“Dragging this wagon.”
“Hell yeah. My hand is ready to pop that fat motherfucker when you walk by, too.” He winked as he helped me back into my chair. We made our way out of the doctor’s office, and I willed myself down the hallway toward the lobby. Quade walked beside me, saying bye to all the hospital staff like we were leaving a family gathering. The moment we stepped outside, the late afternoon sunset blinded us. I rolled over the threshold and down the familiar ramp to the parking lot.
“You ready for your driving lesson?” Quade asked as we reached his car.
“My what?” I blinked. He opened the driver’s side door like it was nothing, like he wasn’t asking me to drive. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you keep dodging the driver’s seat forever, did you?”
“I haven’t dodged anything. I know how to drive.”
He gave me a look. I returned it. Then we both grinned.
“Not with the mobility adjustments.”
