They both turned to look at me and smiled. Since Hell was closest to me, I approached him and gave him a hug first.
“What’s good, Trini?”
Hell kissed my cheek and took back his seat as I made my way over to Havoc. He embraced me in a sideways hug while he continued his conversation with Oblique. I frowned at how quickly he went back to talking.
“Nigga, shut the fuck up!” Havoc yelled, making Hell cry laughing.
Oblique laughed and waved Havoc off.
I just stood there, watching the three of them converse as I got lost in my best friend’s face.
I had seen a lot of fine ass men in my time, but nobody could top my best friend. In my eyes, he was the word perfection itself.
Smooth brown skin, not a blemish in sight, and a glistening full beard surrounding perfectly shaped lips. Hazel eyes that sparkled whenever he laughed too hard. A nose that fit his face perfectly. A tall body covered in clothes that did nothing to hide his strong physique beneath. The white t-shirt resting on his abs, I would do anything for it to reveal what I needed to see. The sleeves hugging his biceps just right.
My lips suddenly parted in a silent gasp when my eyes landed on his print, clearly visible in the gray sweatpants he was wearing.
Everything about this man screamed to my womanly instincts, and it was getting harder and harder not to give into the whispers of my body. I craved him like my lungs craved air to breath.
My mind started playing tricks on me as I envisioned us being together. In love, maybe married. I looked down at my stomach, imagining it growing daily with our love child inside. I returned my gaze to Havoc, a smile on my face as if I could see my dream becoming a reality.
Anton suddenly appeared beside me. His presence felt heavy, but I was too entranced to pull my sight away. He nudged me, but still, my vision remained locked in place—a place that I could stay in forever.
I gasped when Anton leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“After all this time, you still stuck on the same shit, and you wonder why I fucked with Andrea.”
My head turned to face him, and he was frowning deeply at me.
“I fucked up, I hold my hands up, but you’re more fucked up,” he whispered harshly, catching me off guard.
“How?”
In my mind, I was the victim, the only one who hadn’t done anything wrong.
Anton snorted a laugh. “For being in love with Havoc right in my face,” he said, revealing a secret I couldn’t even admit to myself.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHAKUR MOORE
When I was a child, my mother told me the story of the Prodigal Son, and I used to wonder how he felt coming back home. Did he feel lower than low, like I was now? Did he feel like he had no right to come back after all he had done? Did he feel ashamed?
I never thought thatIwould end up like him, when I was a child—yet here I was!
I looked over at the front door, knowing my family was inside and just a few feet away from me, but my fear had me confined to my car.
Three years was a long time to be gone—I knew that, but I couldn’t fight the urge to come back home. Back to where I belonged—hopefully, I still belonged.
Over the years, my father had told me that it was okay to come back home, but I never did. Why? Why didn’t I come back after the first year, or even the second year, when it felt easier to return? Why did I wait another year? Until now, I felt like I’d been forgotten. As though my family had a life of their own, behind those closed doors, that didn’t include me.
At this point, I didn’t know whether the devil was messing with me or if God was telling me to turn back around, and go back to where I came from, but I was conflicted.
Did I stay or did I go back?
I must have been glutton for punishment or something, because thinking fuck it, I climbed out of my car.
The air felt different—if that even made sense. It was an unfamiliar feeling the neighborhood now held, as if I no longer had any stakes to this place as my home.
