Montana dropped his hand onto my jittery leg because, of course, I hadn’t even gotten out of the car to do anything remotely dramatic.
I sighed. “We’re still not talking?”
He got out, then opened my door.
Apparently, my life needed a soundtrack because a crow cawed in the distance. Might as well have been a full-bellied laugh.
I climbed out, and he wheeled my luggage from the trunk, then carried it up the porch.
Without knocking on the door of his mother’s home, Montana strolled down the steps.
My feet ate up the path, and I almost stepped on his feet just to block him from getting back into his Escalade.
An arched brow lifted.
I cleared my throat.Anytime, Zuri. You couldn’t shut up earlier, so speak.
“As you know, I spoke with my friend’s wife last night.”
“A friend that helps you disappear.” He smirked. “You gonna run? We have one argument, and you gonna run!”
“I told you,” I said, heaving a sigh. “Curtis and Deidre just got back from visiting family for the holiday.”
“You call dude to say Happy New Year, or for another fake ID? You got money now to pay for another escape.”
“Funny you didn’t realize, I left every brick of cash you gave me atyourhome.” My glance flicked up the hill. “I didn’t need it for the trip. Especially to get past the TSA. I don’t want it. Now.”
He shrugged. “You think I need it?”
“Maybe along with the old lady crew’s SSA checks.” A smile found my cheeks and then flopped. “Youneedto stop with the arrogance. Listen!”Dang, Zuri!Now, you want Montana to listen after a half-hearted response earlier. “I called Curtis for a fake ID—weeks ago. It looks bad because they just returned the call.”
“Yep. Looks bad.”
“When … I first left, I lived with them. Diedre’s a homemaker. She watched Darius for a year. She and Curtis struggled to have children for years yet welcomed us into their home. Seeing my son thrive in the chaos I’d created, while she couldn’t have her own … it broke her heart.” My voice cracked. I was opening up to him. Sharing names.
Those sharp shoulders remained rigid.
“She and I chatted last night. Their Christmas gift to themselves was fertility drugs, a splurge for normal people.”
He sniffed, glared at a cypress, then pinned me. Eyes a flash of intelligence and disappointment. “You telling me something for the first time, Zuri. Funny, it ain’t your story. The little part that is doesn’t even add up. Why just a year?”
The look he gave told me he didn’t want that. I tried to take his hand. He folded his arms. “We have a spark, Montana. Yesterday, I didn’t know how else to help. I took it too far. Turned your pain into a case study on domestic violence.”
His face didn’t move. Not a muscle. Montana Babineaux was pure stone. Backlit by the fading light, shoulders squared like he’d rather go twelve rounds with me than open his mouth and discuss feelings.Speak.
Blink, sigh. Hell, cuss me out.This unreadable silence was a death sentence.
Raw panic bubbled in my throat. How could I tell him everything? The shame … New York …
“This how it’s gone be? You can’t be honest with me, Zuri?” He turned slowly. “Never brought a woman here, but you gone crap on all I’ve offered!”
Baby, I did more than shove a man. I couldn’t be the reason he never returned to baseball. “I messed up. Forgive me.” My voice came out a croak, but it held.
Last time I apologized, my social worker told me that if I “made it sound sincere,” my caregivers might let me stay. I’d sat there, snot bubbling, apologizing for my existence.
Now, here I was, frigid breath pluming from my lips, serving upmy first apology in over a decade. So, I stepped closer to him, lifted my hand to caress his Bay-rum-scented beard.
Montana flinched, his chest puffing out—taller than ever and further from me. “I’m sorry, Montana.”
