Prologue
SETH
3Months before the Shooting
“I really thought I’d be shopping for tutus,” Stormi said, lips poked out as she ran her fingers over a rack of pink dresses. “Not damn football jerseys.”
I laughed under my breath, eyes scanning the baby aisle like I was on a mission. “You knew it was a boy.”
“Yeah, but I was hoping for a girl,” she shot back, already wandering off back to the little girl’s section...
I was good over here. Little sweatsuits, fresh kicks, tiny hoodies. My son was about to be dressed better than half the niggas I knew. Stormi, though, was stuck, and she didn’t wanna face the reality of having a little boy.
“Come on, ma,” I said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward the boy section. “Stay focused.”
“I am focused,” she said, holding up a tiny jean mini skirt. “You see how hard this is?”
I looked at the skirt, then at her. “Our daughter if we ever have one ain’t wearing that.”
Her smile dipped, but she still hugged the skirt to her chest. “You don’t know what she gon’ be wearing.”
I did know because I knew how the world looked at girls like Stormi. Too pretty, too soft, and the first ones they try and break. And the thought of having a daughter growing up dodging the same type of niggas her mother had to already had my jaw tightening.
“We having a son,” I said, lifting a tiny jersey from the rack. “He gon’ be his daddy twin.”
Stormi went quiet. When I looked at her, her eyes were glossy, hand resting on her stomach like she was already protecting him.
“I didn’t know I could love somebody I ain’t even met yet,” she whispered.
That hit me harder than anything else. I reached for her hand, squeezing it tight. “Yeah,” I said lowly. “Me neither.”
“Our life as we know it?” Stormi said softly, leaning into my side while I flipped through the rack, pulling polos in different colors. “It’s really about to change.”
I paused, glanced down at her, then back at the matching shirts I was lining up; one for baby boy and one for S3. “You ready?” I asked, meeting her eyes. I needed to see it in her face. Needed to know this was what she wanted too.
People always say we moved fast. Let ’em talk. When you meet the one, ain’t no timeline. I wasn’t some little boy still weighing options. I was a man who saw his whole future the minuteStormi walked into my life. She was my wife now and carrying my second son. There wasn’t no turning back from that. And if she wasn’t ready, I’d do whatever it took to make sure she got there because doing it alone wasn’t an option.
“I am,” she said after a beat. “I just got this uneasy feeling. Like something I can’t shake.” She rubbed her stomach. “Guess it comes with being a first-time mom for real.”
I turned fully toward her. “You great with S3. And you raised Noah.”
She sighed. “S3 can talk. He can tell me what he wants, what he needs. With Noah?” Her voice dropped. “I was in straight survival mode.”
That hit different. I stepped closer, lowering my voice so it was just for her. “Ain’t no more surviving. I got you now.” I leaned down, kissed her lips slowly, and meant every word. “You not doing this alone.”
Her shoulders relaxed like she’d been holding that breath for months.
“We gonna be great parents,” she said, a small smile breaking through as she reached back into the rack, grabbing a few more outfits.
I watched her for a second—my wife, my family, my whole reason to stay solid in a world that tried to break you every day. Yeah, life was changing. But this time, we were ready.
We rolled up to the register with mountains of baby clothes stacked between us and the counter. The cashier’s smile stretched a little too wide when her eyes landed on me like mypregnant wife wasn’t standing right there, hand resting on her belly.
Stormi caught it immediately. “You see something you like?” she asked, voice sweet but loaded.
Pregnancy hadn’t softened her at all. If anything, it sharpened her. She was all fire and no filter, ready to snap without warning. I stayed on my best behavior, kept her fed, calm, and smiling because I’d only needed to feel the wrath of her pregnancy mood once to know I never wanted a repeat.
“Oh no,” the cashier said quickly, laughing like it was cute. “Just nice of your brother to take you shopping for your baby boy.”
