The whole lot seemed to shrink for a second. Tunnel vision, I guess. The music kept playing, people kept walking, but the air around us went tight.
The kid’s hands shot up as he shook his head. “Man, I’m just joking. Everybody been saying?—”
“I don’t care what ‘everybody’ been doing,” Jabali cut in. “I’m talking about you. Right now.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. It was all in the way he leaned in, the way his hand curled in the young man’s jacket for just a second. Every line of him saidI’m capable of much worse.And while I found it frightening, I also found it strangely alluring.
“You got something to say about who lives on that hill, say it under your breath when I’m not around. You don’t know her or her story. You know gossip and your own little disappointment. That’s not enough to run your mouth.”
The employee swallowed so hard I could see it. “Alright, man. My bad,” he muttered.
Jabali visibly relaxed and let him go. “Good. Keep it that way.”
“David, other customers need help,” Mr. Hargrove called from the end of the row, like nothing had happened.
The kid peeled off, rubbing his chest, not looking back. I realized I’d been holding my breath.
“You didn’t have to do that. I’ve been dealing with comments like that since I came back,” I said quietly. My voice sounded strange in my own ears, too thin, shaky.
He looked at me for a long moment. “You shouldn’t have had to. And you won’t with me standing here. People don’t talk crazy about the mother of my child in my presence. They’ll learn.”
His voice was low, for my ears only, thank God, because he’d used that phrase again.Mother of my child.The words circled my heart and sat there, heavy. He couldn’t do this. I couldn’t take his defending me like he’d been here this whole time. It messed with my head.
It messed with my heart.
Aziza pressed against my side, eyes big. “Mama? You mad?” she whispered.
I forced my shoulders down. “I’m okay. That was just… a lot.”
She looked at Jabali. “You mad?”
“A little,” he admitted. “But not at you. Not at your mama, either. At him. Some people don’t know how to keep their opinions about other people to themselves.”
She nodded seriously, like that made sense.
He smiled at her before smoothly changing the subject. “So, what’s the verdict? This the one or we looking at more?”
She hesitated, looking between the tree and me. I crouched so we were eye level.
“If this is the tree you want, then this is the tree we’re getting. I’ll deal with the rest.”
Her whole face transformed. “For real?” she breathed.
“For real. We’ll make it work,” I said, even though my inner neat freak was screaming.
She threw herself at me, nearly knocking me over, then spun and hollered for Mr. Hargrove like she’d just won the lottery.
I didn’t go straight homeafter we dropped the tree off.
Kyleigh stood in the foyer with her arms crossed, pretending she wasn’t low-key freaking out about the size of that thing, while Aziza ran circles around us talking about lights and donuts and glitter ornaments. I helped Mr. Benton get the tree through the door and into the stand, let my daughter high-five me like we’d just pulled off a heist, then got out of there before I said or did something that’d set everything back on fire.
Instead, I ended up where I always did when my head was too loud—the house I grew up in.
The Christophers’ place smelled like Katelyn’s kitchen: onions and bell pepper, something roasting low in the oven, and those damn cinnamon pinecones she bought every year.Christmas lights framed the front windows, a normal-sized tree blinked in the corner, and the TV in the living room was murmuring a game on low.
My pops was at the kitchen table, glasses low on his nose, flipping through some paperwork. He looked up when I came in, taking me in with one long, assessing glance. That man had never missed a thing in his life.
“You ate?” was the first thing out his mouth.
