“We were. Your mom is my favorite person in the whole world,” Sloan answered as she held the little girl in her lap while they warmed up in front of the fireplace.
“I wish I had a best friend,” Tessa said, sadly.
“You don’t? What about kids at school?” Sloan asked curiously.
“They’re mean to me. They call me ugly,”Tessa revealed.“One day, Mommy and Brook came to school for family day, and they said I don’t look like them. They said I’m the ugly one.”
“Tessa, baby, you’re beautiful. Those eyes and that beautiful nose. Your skin. Your locs. Don’t listen to those kids. Kids are mean when they’re hurting inside. Somebody hurt them and it makes them feel better to hurt other people too. Don’t let them. You heal hurt people with love. Okay?” Sloan schooled. Her heart ached for this little girl. Kids could be so mean.“And whenever you need a reminder of how beautiful you are, you have your mom call Auntie Sloan, okay?”
Tessa nodded.“Can you be my best friend too?”
“I sure can. I’llbe your best friend forever, baby doll,” Sloan agreed.
“And you tell them kids at your school that your uncle don’t play. I’llfuck their daddies up since they can’t control their mean-ass kids.”
Sloan turned to find Cassidy leaning against the door frame. Tessa jumped up from Sloan’s lap and ran to Cassidy. He scooped her effortlessly and tossed her in the air before slamming her softly on the plush couch. It all looked so rough to Sloan, but Tessa loved it. She giggled endlessly.“You better head out and get a couple more turns on that sled before the kids leave,” Cassidy said. Tessa went racing out the door.
“You’re good with her,” Sloan complimented. Cassidy took a seat on the floor next to Sloan and wrapped his arms around his knees before clasping one hand around the opposite wrist.“You have kids?” she asked.
“Nah, no kids. I got locked up before that could happen for me,” he said.
“I guess this is kind of a welcome home party for you, too. I remember when all that went down,” Sloan said.
“It wasn’t my finest hour,” he admitted.
Sloan was almost afraid to look at him. He was a felon, a drug dealer and convicted murderer. Being around him made her feel anxious. She didn’t know what to say to a man who could take the life of another human being. He made her nervous, and the butterflies dancing in her stomach were from fear, not attraction.
“Have you changed?” she asked.
“That’s a big question,” he countered.
“After two decades in prison for murder, it shouldn’t be hard to answer.” She didn’t mean to be so direct. She instantly regretted the words because they felt aggressive. She had no right to be questioning this man, but oddly, she really wanted to know.“I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“I’m used to it,” he said.
“Used to what?” she asked.
“People judging me. Niggas’ preconceived notions. People being afraid of me,” Cassidy answered.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Sloan lied.
“So, you just make it a habit of looking at the floor and spinning that ring on your finger when everybody talks?” he asked.
Sloan stopped spinning the ring.
“Instead of being afraid of me, just ask me whatever it takes to put your mind at ease,” Cassidy said.
Sloan took a deep breath and turned her body so that she was facing him.
“Is that better?” she asked.
“Much,” he countered. She took him in. Shy was right; prison had built him up damn good. He was tall, and his body was defined. The prison tattoos told a story of grit that she was sure was terrifying. His honey hue was a little light for her taste, but his energy was as dark as night. He was the type of man who carried his hood resume everywhere with him just from his demeanor. He couldn’t turn it off. Even if he was dressed in the finest suit, his aura repped a set he couldn’t erase. He was born and bred in the streets, and he had been cemented in the penitentiary. A man like that was dangerous, and he intimidated Sloan.“So, shoot.”
“I used to come here all the time. You used to be around me all the time, Cassidy. I don’t know how the boy I used to crush on... My best friend’s cool-ass, fine-ass, older brother became what you became.”
“What did I become?” Cassidy asked.
Sloan shook her head in disgust.“You beat that old man to death with a pole. They ran the crime scene photos on the front page of The Flint Journal for a week. We sat in that courtroom, waiting for you to apologize. You didn’t shed one tear, showed no remorse. How could you do something like that with your bare hands? That’sbarbaric. It’s psychotic. That man didn’t hurt anybody. You went there for what? To try to rob him? You could have left that old man with his life.”
