“Make yourself at home,” he said.
She glanced toward the stairs. “Should I make lunch? Does she need Tylenol or something?”
“She’s not sick.” His voice was flat. Controlled. “Her mama showed up at the school this morning. Tried to take her.”
Kennedi sat up. “What?”
“Bulshit I know, but I’ll be right back.”
Before she could respond, he was heading toward the back of the house. A sliding door opened and closed. Kennedi stood there alone, taking in the space.
She slipped off her heels and moved toward the glass door. Through it, she could see Rolani on the back patio, sitting in one of the chairs, head tilted back, smoke filling the air. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. Then another.
She waited a beat, then slid open the door and stepped outside.
He didn’t look at her right away, and smoke drifted up in slow spirals. His arms stretched the length of the chair.
“You don’t gotta try and fix me,” he said before she even spoke.
“I wasn’t going to. I’m just here.”
He nodded and lifted his hand, motioning her closer.
When she reached him, he pulled her into his lap without a word. She wrapped her arm around his neck like she’d done it a hundred times before. It felt like no time had passed. Like LA was yesterday, and the last few months hadn’t happened at all.
His hand found her belly immediately, thumb moving in slow circles.
He rubbed his face. “I got so much going on right now.”
“Then tell me.”
He was quiet for a long moment, his hand steady on her stomach. Then he spoke. “Pearl died a little bit before I met you in LA.”
Kennedi froze in place. She’d heard about it, but this was the first time he’d said it to her directly.
“The only mother I ever knew.” His voice was rough. “She raised Robin and me when our parents couldn’t. And when she passed...” He stopped. “Everything got heavier.”
Kennedi’s hand covered his on her stomach, waiting.
“Before that, Robin got locked up. Monshay got him caught up in some shit he had nothing to do with because she’s sick in the head. So now I’m raising Monroe. Running Idle Hands. Trying to build my own shit. And today, Monshay shows up at the school trying to take her? What if she had succeeded?”
His hand stilled on her belly.
“I’m tired, as fuck, Ken. I wake up thinking about lawyers, Monroe’s school, Robin's release. Grief. Every day, something needs handling, and I'm the only one handling it.”
He was quiet for a beat. His thumb moved again, slowly.
“I can't tell Robin. I don’t want him carrying that in there. Giovanni's been locked into his own thing; he’s a husband now. So, I just... kept it moving.”
He let out a dry laugh, but there was no joke.
“I ain’t been able to say any of it to anybody. You probably think I’m soft.”
“Ro.” Her hand covered his. “You’re allowed to be tired. That’s not soft. That’s honest.”
He nodded. “‘Preciate that. I want you to know y’all are my priority right now. Nothing I got going on is going to stop me from focusing on y’all.”
“Rolani, stop.” She turned in his lap to look at him, her hands cupping his cheeks. “Little LA is already lucky to have you.”
