Zaire balanced his club on his shoulder, stepping just slightly closer—not disrespectful, but disrespectful-adjacent. “You just show up unannounced to a woman’s house?” Zaire asked. “That normal for you, cuh?”
Brent blinked, licking his lips at the words that tumbled from Zaire’s lips. He looked him up and down before he responded. Brent was a man too and any type of disrespect was disrespect. “We’ve known each other for a while.”
“That ain’t what I asked, cuh.” Zaire’s brown eyes slitted.
Ray tried, very poorly, not to laugh.
Brent cleared his throat his eyes darting around before he gave Zaire the eye contact he so desperately needed. “I didn’t mean any harm. Meadow works a lot. I just thought she deserved something… nice.”
“Oh, so you think she ain’t got nothin’ nice around her already?”
Brent lifted his chin, his lip curled into a snarky smirk. “If she did, she wouldn’t be free tonight.”
Ray coughed, “Lord, please.”
Zaire didn’t flinch in his stance. “She free because shewantsto be. Don’t get that confused.” Zaire wanted to tell Brent that Meadow was free tonight becausehewas allowing her to be.
“So, what’s your name, son?” Ray tried to simmer the tension by making small talk. He understood and respected his daughter’s dating life or lack thereof, but any man that showed up on his property…he needed to know their name.
“Brent Smith.” He extended his hand to shake Ray’s hand. “I’ve been talkin’ to your daughter for a while now.”
Ray accepted Brent’s hand with a strong and firm shake. “Nice to meet you son…what you got planned for the night?”
“Dinner…nothing too major.”
Ray’s head bobbed. “Yea, I like that. Here or in the city?”
“The city, of course.” Brent licked his lips like he was doing something so grand.
Zaire spit on the ground, hating the whole thing. He wanted to rush into the house and make her stay her ass right there, but he wasn’t in the position to do that. He wasn’t there for love. Plus, his head was too jumbled to try to make Meadow sit in that shit with him.
Brent smirked, hands slipping casually into his pockets adding, “Nothing but the best for Meadow.”
“Okay…that’s where you from? I know everybody in Juniper.”
“Yes sir,” Brent stuck his hands in his pockets.
Zaire watched the exchange with his jaw locked and his grip strangling the club handle, trying to steady the wave rolling through him. He didn’t like the way that man talked to Ray like he’d been part of this land long enough to earn it…didn’t like the way Meadow smiled, even if it was small and hesitant, because he knew she didn’t give her smiles out easily. But what rattled Zaire most, was the way he stood there wishing he had the right to take that smile for himself.
He felt stupid as hell for even letting it touch him, but there was no getting around it now. He wanted Meadow…wanted her fire, her stubbornness, her softness she tried to hide under all that responsibility. He wanted the way she looked at him like she was trying not to feel anything at all, and he hated, deep down—bone-deep, the way this slick, linen-wearing ass nigga walked in without invitation and reached for a piece of her. The same piece of her that Zaire pretended he didn’t spend every morning thinking about. It made his stomach twist, partly from jealousy, partly from guilt, partly from confusion about why he cared so much when he’d sworn off anything real the moment he left L.A.
Zaire came here for space, for quiet, for a chance to remember who he was without the pressure of a league waiting on his downfall. Somehow, somewhere in that chaos, Meadow had slipped in and became the only thing that slowed the noise in his head. Watching her walk off with another man wasn’t supposed to sting the way it did, but his chest felt tight enough to split in two. He told himself it wasn’t his business, that he couldn’t expect her to sit around waiting on a man who didn’t even know what direction his life was pointed in. But even knowing that, none of it dulled the heat creeping up his spine. Zaire could handle the hate from the tour, the silence from Crescent, the weight of every expectation he’d ever carried, but watching Meadow leave with someone else? That was the first thing that made him feel off his game in a way no critic, no tournament, no past mistake ever could. It left him standing there in the middle of the grass, wishing the swing he’d just taken had knocked the breath out of him instead of having to deal with the sight of her walking away.
Ray continued chatting with Brent because he was a chatty ass old man. Zaire liked the wisdom Ray dropped, but hated the way he smiled and laughed with Brent. Still, what could he do?
The screen door banged shut.
Meadow stood on the porch wearing a soft, fitted dress with her curls pinned half-up. Nothing wild, but she looked good enough to make the air shift.
Brent lit up, rubbing his hands together. “Wow…you look beautiful.”
Meadow smiled politely her eyes darting to Zaire. She could see smoke coming out of his ears but if he wanted her to stay, he needed to say that. “Thank you.” She said to Brent even though her eyes hadn’t left Zaire’s yet.
Zaire didn’t move nor did he comment, but his eyes…his eyes dragged over her body with a slow roll.
Meadow felt it in her stomach. Felt him in her head, telling her to take her ass back in the house. Still, she laid her hand inside Brent’s, allowing him to lead her off the porch and to the car.
Brent opened the car door for her. “You ready?”
