His Dell Precision glowed in front of him, layered renderings pulled up as he reviewed load points, structural spans, and interior flow. Crown worked with intention, double-checking measurements, refining elevations, and tightening the details. He stayed locked in until soft footsteps broke his concentration.
He looked up.
Nivéa stepped inside, and he took in how comfortable she looked now. Something shifted in him at the sight. It made him feel good that he could give her that kind of calm so quickly, that even in the middle of a storm, he could make her feel safe. She’d changed into one of his T-shirts, the fabric slipping off one shoulder, paired with leggings.
“Hey, I thought your mama was coming by?” she asked.
“She is. She just had to straighten up the crib first, fussin’ about Danger tearing up her shit. Trust me, she’s coming.”
Nivéa laughed. “Okay, I’m going to lie down until then since Ny is napping. I guess we can have that talk when she’s gone, and you’re done.”
Crown was about to respond when his phone vibrated on the desk. He glanced at the screen and saw Smoky’s name.
“Aight, ma. I got you.” He said.
“Okay,” Nivéa replied before walking away.
“Sup, bro?” Crown answered the phone as soon as she was out of sight.
“Danger just pulled up.” Smoky told him.
Crown exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He’d told Danger to keep his ass in the house, sit down and heal, and that grief didn’t mean he should throw his life away. Moving around on that injured leg would only slow him down and get him killed. But Danger didn’t give a fuck to listen. He’d been ready to crash out ever since Lil Mo’s death, the pain drowning out any fear of the consequences.
“The fuck for? My mama just told that nigga to go straight home. He’s supposed to be healing.”
“That’s what I told him, but he’s not trying to hear it. You know how stubborn he is. He wants to ride out with us to handle the clubhouse.”
Crown leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Stall him. I’m on the way.”
There was a brief pause.
“Aight, and one more thing.”
“Yeah, bro?”
“Pete’s here with some other muthafucka, trying to meet with you. He says he’s been calling but can’t get through to any of your burners. It’s urgent.”
Crown glanced at the desk, dragging a hand down his face. He’d turned both burners off on purpose to focus on Nivéa and getting some work done. The streets could wait until tomorrow, he thought. He’d handle whatever needed handling then, including Boe. But like his father used to say,“As soon as you get comfortable, life shifts. And niggas like us don’t clock out. We just pause.”
“Aight, tell him to sit tight.”
Crown ended the call, stood up, and headed toward his bedroom. Nivéa had just climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her body when he entered. He kept the air on sixty at night, and she looked cold. He made a mental note to turn the heater on as he sat beside her on the bed.
He met her gaze, his hands finding their place at her waist, steadying both of them. He hated the thought of leaving her, especially after everything she’d been through. He didn’t want to upset her either. Would she be pissed? Disappointed? He didn’t really know where they stood now, but something in Crown felt like she owned him regardless of their status. All he wanted was to make her happy, keep her safe, and keep her satisfied.
“I gotta go handle somethin’. I didn’t plan on leaving y’all, but this can’t wait. It’s about my bro.”
Nivéa’s stomach tightened. “Is he okay?” she asked nervously, fearing that another tragedy had struck.
“Yeah, he’s good. I’m just trying to make sure it stays that way. He’s not resting like the doctor told him to. I gotta slide up to the clubhouse and get him to go home.”
“Okay. How long will you be?”
“I ain’t gon’ lie to you, ma—”
“I don’t want you to lie to me. Tell me the truth, Ahmad.” She reached up, cupping his face.
Crown took her hand and kissed it. “I don’t know how long. It could be late as fuck by the time I get back. Some othershit popped up too. But don’t worry, you’re safe here. It’s well secured, and only family knows where I rest my head.”
