The words hit somewhere deep, deeper than I wanted them to. Because they were right. I'd been too wrapped up in vengeance, in shadows, in lookin' over my shoulder, to even breathe right with my wife. I hadn't had a real night with her since I woke up. Hadn't let myself be soft with her. Hadn't let myself sink into her arms the way I needed to. And she was carryin' all of that pain alone.
"You right," I said finally, my voice low. "I got shit to fix."
Juste nodded once, satisfied. Pierre smirked like he'd been waiting for me to admit that shit all night.
I leaned back in the chair, rubbing the side of my head, eyes driftin toward the notebook on the table. Names. Leads. Lies crossed out. Clues. Every stroke of a pen was proof they'd been workin behind my back, quietly and efficiently. guessing I wasn't ready to know everything yet. But the truth was sitting in my chest like a weight: I didn't trust nobody and The only person I trusted right now was laying in our bed alone. the thought of her wakin up without me again made somethin inside me twist tight. "Imma head out," I muttered, pushin up from the chair.
Pierre and Juste glanced at each other, but neither said anything. They knew where I was going. They knew who I was going home to. The anger in my chest eased. Just enough for me to breathe.
AYIDA
I rubbed Noles' ear between my fingers, slow circles the way he always liked, while his head leaned heavy against mine. His other handheld a stick of cotton candy he was barely focused on. he was mostly just tearing at it absentmindedly, stuffing pieces in his mouth while we swayed high above the city. The state fair had opened this week, and he surprised me by taking me tonight.
The Ferris wheel rocked softly in the wind, metal creaking' every few seconds as we rose higher. I could see the lights spread out across the fairgrounds glowing like fireflies caught in a dance. There was laughter floating up from somewhere below, the smell of funnel cake and smoked turkey legs drifting through the air, children's shrieks mixing with trap music and carnival announcements.
My heart eased for the first time in weeks. The last month or so he'd been different.
More present.
More gentle.
Less angry.
Less distant.
Less haunted.
I didn't know what changed in him, but I didn't question it.
I was grateful. It was almost like everything had gone back to the same or at least the closest version of "same" we were gonna get after death brushed up against us and left fingerprints.
His shoulder pressed deeper against mine, and he let out a low hum, eyes closed, chewing cotton candy slow. "Don't play with my ears like that," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and liquor. "You know that shit make my dick hard." I burst out laughing, leaning into him. His voice carried that lazy, half-drunk honesty he only had when he felt safe. That tone I used to hear every night before the world tried to steal him from me. "You so stupid," I giggled, reaching over and grabbing a piece of his cotton candy. I shoved it in my mouth before he could snatch his hand away. He cracked a smile at that, a small one, but it still lit something warm in my chest. "You really just steal my shit like that?" he asked, looking down at the stick like it betrayed him. "Mhm," I said, grabbing another piece.
He leaned over and nipped at my cheek , playful, teasing, biting just enough to make heat curl low in my stomach. "Keep playin' in my face," he murmured, breath warm against my skin, "and we ain't gon' make it off this ride before I do somethin' to you." I gave him a smug lil smile and flicked my eyes up at him. He grinned again, dimples deep, eyes squinting, shoulders loosening. The Ferris wheel swayed, lights sweeping across his face, painting him gold, pink, blue.
His hand slid down to my thigh, thumb brushing the inside slow. It was absentminded and instinctive. Like touchin' me was the same as breathin'. My heart tripped. He opened his eyes finally, looking at me with that heavy-lidded stare that always made my spirit sink deeper into my bones. "What?" I whispered, suddenly shy. "Nothin'," he said, voice soft. "I just missed bein' like this with you." The world around us blurred , the screams, the lights, the music , everything muted, everything small, everything far away. I swallowed, my throat tightening. "Me too." He kissed my temple. Slow. "Come on," he murmured, hand squeezing my thigh once more. "When this ride stop, I'mawin you somethin'. Somethin' big as hell. Somethin' you can't even carry."
"You already tried," I laughed. "Nah, that nigga cheated," he said, eyes narrowing like he still had beef with the game booth man. "We runnin' it back."
"Let it go Noles," I muttered, shaking my head. Then the Ferris wheel lurched, beginning its descent. His hand stayed glued to my thigh.
_____
After riding a few more rides , him showin' out, cussin' at teenagers, and finally winnin' me a big brown teddy bear he refused to let me carry. we walked back to the truck with sticky fingers and full stomachs. we were sittin' in the parking lot with the windows rolled down, eatin' fried Oreos and funnel cakes out of greasy paper trays. Someone in the distance was poppin' fireworks like they were celebrating somethin'. The sky glittered here and there with sparks fading just as quick as they came.
My feet were propped up on the dashboard, powdered sugar all over my fingers. He sat in the driver's seat, seat leaned back, one hand holdin' a funnel cake, the other holdin' a lit blunt out the window. The smoke curled around his face, softening him, outlining his jawline in the glow of the passing fireworks. For a moment, I forgot we had ever been anything but this, messy, sweet, simple. Two kids in love instead of two souls draggin' trauma behind them like shadows.
"Damn, these Oreos hitting'," I mumbled with my mouth full. He smirked, eyes half-lidded as he watched me tear into another piece. "You greedy as hell."
"Mind you, you got my funnel cake over there with you," I said, snatching the tray out of his lap. "Move your hand."
He laughed deep from his chest, blowing smoke out the window. “ You was gon' share anyway."
"I wasn't," I said through a smile. He reached over and pinched my thigh, making me jump. "Stop!" I squealed giggling We sat like that for a while , the kind of silence that wasn't silence at all. Just comfort. His music played low, Bryson Tiller. The air smelled like sugar, smoke, and the faint sweetness of roasted pecans drifting across the lot.
He looked peaceful. Relaxed. A little drunk. A little high. A lotta mine. "Tonight was nice," I said softly. His eyes flicked toward me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I needed it." He rubbed at his jaw, staring out the windshield. "I did too," he said after a long pause.
