He wrapped an arm around her and held her tightly. His calloused hands pressing into her skin. A touch she could feel even through her clothes.
Her breath hitched against his shirt, loud in the quiet room.
Magnolia smiled gently. “You’re very pretty, sweetheart.”
Meadow’s whole body trembled.
“Mama…” Meadow pleaded, voice breaking. “It’s me.”
Zaire’s eyes burned again.
He spoke into her hair, voice barely there. “I got you.”
Meadow’s fingers curled into his shirt.
She was fragile and hurting in a way she never let anyone see.
He pulled her into him without hesitation, guiding her out the room.
Meadow stayed pressed into Zaire’s chest long enough for his heartbeat to settle into her breathing. When she finally pulled back, she wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, embarrassed at how hard she fell apart in front of him.
“Sorry,” she whispered, staring at the floor. “I don’t usually…break down like that.”
Zaire watched her, his eyes softer than she expected. “Don’t apologize for loving somebody.”
She shook her head. “You don’t get it.”
“I do,” he said quietly.
Meadow looked up at him. “How?”
Zaire’s breath steadied in his chest, but something flickered in his eyes, something old and heavy. “Because when you love somebody that deep…you don’t get to choose how it hurt. You just feel it.”
She placed her hand on her chest trying to calm herself down.
Meadow sniffed. “Sometimes it feels like I’m fading out of her mind one memory at a time.”
Zaire tucked his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her again. “Then let her remember you with your presence, not her mind.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means…just show up,” he said in a cool tone. “Even when she can’t name you, even when she doesn’t know your face…even when she don’t know you’re still her baby…you still show up.”
Her throat pinched shut.
He continued, hoping she understood what he was saying. “People think love is big moments - weddings, kids, anniversaries. All that frilly shit. But most of love…is showing up when you got every reason to disappear.”
Meadow stared at him like she didn’t expect someone like him - hood, guarded, tired, carrying too much…to say something deep. Meadow didn’t know that Zaire was more than blue flags, angry outbursts, and sorrowful eyes. He was a man in the essence of everything Ray had taught her. She might not fully see it yet, but slowly, he was revealing himself to her like the hoodiest fairytale she’d ever told.
“I didn’t know you talked like that.”
Zaire shrugged. “I don’t…well not usually. People don’t come see me to hear me talk.”
“Why now then?”
He held her eyes. “Because you needed it.”
Her breath wavered, staggering while holding onto his every word.
