Ray nodded slowly. “Ain’t no going back now, son.”
Zaire stared at Magnolia’s retreating figure, chest tightening in a way that felt like purpose…like a vow…like a man realizing he’d just been trusted with somebody’s legacy, and he wasn’t about to drop it.
He clapped his hands. “Let’s get this shit moving. We got some spinnin’ to do.”
The sun sethigh and bright, scorching across the field like it had been waiting for permission from the moon, hot enough to soften the edges of the day, spreading across the wet grass until everything shimmered the way the earth does when the world decides to give you a break.
People were busy everywhere on the property…Ray paced, huddling by the shed like he was securing Fort Knox, the PR team walked the perimeter, two contractors measured where the new fence would run, and Lesha dragging a folding chair outside to supervise everybody while pretending to relax.
Zaire sat on the back porch steps with a brand-new phone in his hand, fumbling with the setup screen.
He hated technology unless it was a launch monitor.
True kept trying not to laugh while giving instructions. “Nah king, listen,” he cracked up. “You gotta put the Face ID back in.”
Zaire squinted at the phone. “Man, this shit don’t even look like me right now. I ain’t got no haircut, my beard needs trimming…”
True slapped his shoulder. “It’s still you...everybody can’t be good looking.”
Zaire grunted just as Meadow stepped out onto the porch.
The world slowed in a way he didn’t need to fight for a change.
Her hair was in a low puff…her face was bare…her T-shirt was washed enough times that the green had softened into something close to sage.
She looked like rest, like breath…like the version of peace he’d been searching for since childhood.
She walked toward him slowly, testing the day, testing herself, testing the space between them.
His eyes were glued to her the whole time without blinking.
Meadow held out a small plate. “Your Mama said eat again.”
Zaire couldn’t stop the smile that came to his mouth. “She tryna make me fat.”
“You are six-three, two-twenty worth of muscle, you’ll be fine.” Meadow sat down beside him, her thigh brushing his. She meant to pull away, he watched her try, but she didn’t.
He set the phone down and leaned over, dropping his head lightly into her lap without asking.
Meadow froze for half a second. Then her hand lifted and found the back of his neck.
She circled love into his skin in a soft and protective way he didn’t know he needed until her fingers touched skin.
Zaire exhaled like something inside him finally loosened. This life was tiring. He loved the money, loved bringing hope to people that looked like him, but fame came with so much…bad, good, and indifferent.
“You good?” she whispered, her thumb tracing the edge of his fade.
“Yeah,” he nodded,“ now I am.”
She brushed a curl at the crown of his head. “You still mad at me?”
He shook his head against her thigh. “No, I’m just in love with you. That’s the fuckin’ problem.”
The confession was quiet…not forced…not dramatic, just true.
Zaire’s love felt good. He spoke with intention and never left her mind wondering. If someone asked her to describe the feeling, she’d respond with a simple word ‘safe’. His affection towards her gave her comfort and made all the bad shit disappear.
Meadow’s breath hitched, though her hand never stopped moving. “I love you too.”
