He tilted his head. “So what is it?”
She didn’t have an answer. Her throat wobbled. Her words didn’t line up right.
All she knew was the truth sat heavy inside her…warm, terrifying, right there on the edge of spilling, but saying it out loud felt like stepping off a cliff. If he changed his mind later, she’d fall too hard. If he didn’t…he didn’t even know what to do with that possibility.
So Meadow stayed quiet, staring at him with all the things she was too scared to admit sitting behind her eyes.
Zaire watched her, his eyes dragging across her mouth, her throat, the rise of her chest. His fingers brushed her knee lightly, just enough to pull a breath from her. “You want me to stop?” he asked.
Meadow shook her head. “No.”
“You want me to fall back?”
“No.”
“You want me to let you drown ‘cause you scared of dependin’ on me…Black women,” he scoffed, shaking his head.
“The fuck?” Meadow sat up so fast the swing rocked under them. Fire burned through her eyes. “What does that even mean?”
Zaire didn’t flinch or stumble on his words because he said what he said. “It means I know the world ain’t been kind to you,” he said. “I know people done made you feel like you gotta earn every drop of softness. I know you’ve been taught to hold it together no matter who doesn’t show up. And I know half the time, when you should’ve been protected, you had to protect yourself instead.”
Meadow’s mouth opened, then closed. The air between them tightened.
“But listen,” Zaire continued, pointing at his chest, “in the rare moments when a Black man shows up with purpose…not ‘cause he wants something, not ‘cause he’s tryna play you, but because he sees you breakin’ and he wanna be the one to hold you up…you let him.”
Meadow just stared at him, wondering where the hell he’d been for the last twenty-six years of her life.
“That’s what I mean,” his tone went low. “Stop punishin’ me for what the world did to you. I’m right here. I’m tryna love you right now, not the version of you that had to survive everybody else.”
“And if I’m standin’ in front of you with both feet planted,” he added, tapping her knee gently, “you don’t push me back…you pull me in.”
Her eyes filled so fast she didn’t even feel the first tear fall, just the heat behind her nose, the sting creeping up her throat, the way the air suddenly thinned like somebody stole half of it out the sky. “Zaire…” Meadow’s voice barely pushed his name out as her eyes met his, intensely staring at her .
He just watched her with those steady, patient eyes that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt since childhood.
Meadow tried to breathe, but it came out shaky. Her heart jumped once, hard, like it recognized him before she did. She pressed her palm to her chest. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Talk to me like that,” her voice cracked, “ like you see everything.”
“I do.”
She sucked in a tiny breath, chest trembling. “It ain’t fair.”
“What ain’t?”
“You’re making me…” she paused, wiping her cheek. “You’re making me feel stuff I’m not ready to feel.”
Zaire leaned in, his thumb brushing away the tears she missed. “You scared, baby?”
“I don’t wanna be,” she whispered, the truth stinging her throat, “but yeah.” Her whole body shook…tiny, involuntary shivers, like something inside her finally stopped pretending.
“I want to love you,” she blurted, eyes shining. “And it don’t even make sense because it hasn’t been long enough. It doesn’t feel responsible or logical, but I feel it.” Another tear fell. “And that scares the hell outta me.”
Zaire didn’t interrupt her, just let her say whatever she felt she needed to say.
Meadow looked down, as if ashamed. “I shouldn’t feel like this yet.”
