I nodded and picked at a blueberry that had fallen from my scone. “We were in the same holding cell. And then . . . after we got released . . .”
“After you got released . . .?” she prompted when I trailed off.
“We went to his cabin by the lake. And we . . . talked. Among other things.”
Mama’s eyes widened for a moment before she hid her reaction. “I see.”
“It’s not what you think . . . Actually, it’s exactly what you think, but it’s also more than that,” I corrected quickly, then laughed at myself.
“Baby girl, you know I trust your judgment. But you also know how I feel about men with badges.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here. Because I don’t know if I’m losing my mind or if there’s something real happening. He’s a cop, Mama. The chief of police. Everything I’ve fought against since Devon . . .”
I couldn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to. We both lived with that ghost between us.
“Trusting your heart is brave. Just don’t break it on a badge. Men like that are a part of a system bigger than themselves. No matter how good their intentions are.”
My shoulders dropped. This was why I came, not just for advice but for a safe place to be vulnerable, to be unsure, to not have all the answers like Dr. Price was supposed to.
“He talked about reforming from within, about changing the system. And I want to believe him, but . . .”
“You’ve heard that before, from politicians and chiefs who showed up at community meetings after Devon died. Promising change that never came.”
I nodded, grateful she understood. “Ronan feels different, though. When he talks about it, I believe him. Is that naïve?”
Mama took off her glasses, letting them hang from their chain again. “I raised you to be many things, and naïve ain’t one of them. Your eyes light up when you talk about him. Been a long time since I’ve seen that.”
I hadn’t realized it was so obvious. “Yeah, well . . .”
“Just be careful with your heart, baby, and with your work, too. You’ve built something important to your activism, your teaching. Don’t let feelings for this man, no matter how good he might be, undermine what you stand for.”
“That’s what scares me. What if being with Ronan compromises me? What if people think I’ve sold out? What if I pull punches because I’m worried about how it affects him?”
Mama’s face softened. “The fact you’re asking these questions tells me you’re still my clear-eyed girl. Let me ask you this. Did being with him make you feel more or less like yourself?”
Her question caught me off guard. I thought about the time I spent at the cabin, everything from our conversations, physical intimacy, laughter, and the quiet moments of connection.
“More. I know this sounds strange, but it felt like the parts of me I shut down since Devon passed can finally breathe again.”
She nodded, like I’d confirmed something she already suspected. “Then maybe this isn’t about compromising who you are. Maybe it’s about expanding who you can be.”
I let her words sink in.
“Besides, relationships are about growth. Maybe you change him a little, he changes you a little, and you both end up better for it.”
“When did you get so wise about relationships? You’ve been single since Daddy died,” I teased, glad for the lighter mood.
“Child, please. I read books for a living. And I’ve seen enough real-life love stories unfold in my library to know a thing or two. Now, you want more coffee, or you want to keep pretending these feelings aren’t scaring you half to death?”
I laughed and slid my mug toward her. “Both, I think.”
As she refilled our cups, I relaxed. This was what I needed: my mama’s kitchen, her wisdom, her way of seeing me without judgment. No matter what happened with Ronan or what came next, I knew I could always come back here. This was where I could be both brave and scared at once.
As always, Mama knew just what I needed to hear. After breakfast and talking with Mama, I went to the lecture hall. That was the real reason I’d come back to Birmingham. It was my first public appearance since the protest, the arrests, and everything that happened at Ronan’s cabin. Everything had changed, but no one in the audience would know just by looking at me.
“Ten minutes, Dr. Price,” a student assistant called through the door, interrupting my thoughts.
“Thank you,” I replied, smoothing down my blazer. I looked like myself, professional, put-together, and confident, not like a woman whose world had tilted on its axis in a cabin by a lake.
