“You know I do,” she whispered. “You clearly miss me.”
“More than you know. But aight. Go get my baby girl. I’ll call you tonight.” His voice shifted back to normal, like he hadn’t had her ready to combust in the middle of his living room. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
When she turned back around, Spirit was staring at her with the biggest smirk.
“You heading out, or you wanna ride with me? Monroe is fourteen, and she’s a good kid. She’s fun.”
“Yeah, I’ll go. I don’t have shit else to do.”
They loaded up in the Navigator—Rolani had left it for her while he was gone, and she’d fallen in love with the way it drove. Smooth, spacious, and steady, it made her feel safe. The drive to Monroe’s school was twenty minutes, and between the music and girl talk, they made it in no time.
Kennedi noticed Spirit shift in her seat about halfway there, but she ignored it. Then, as they got closer to the school, Spirit turned in her seat, her whole body tense.
“Ken, I need to tell you something.”
“Girl, what? I knew something was up.”
“It’s Robin.”
Kennedi glanced at her. “Huh? What’s Robin?”
“Ugh.” Spirit exhaled hard. “Robin is the man who broke my damn heart. I’ve... I’ve never been around his daughter.”
Kennedi’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Wow. Okay. You’re Lovelynn?”
Spirit’s head snapped toward her. “He been talking about me?”
“You my girl, so I’ll be honest—yes, somewhat. Robin knows you’re coming back home.” Kennedi paused, choosing her words carefully. “You do know he’s locked up, right?”
Spirit’s head whipped around, and she glared. “What?”
“Word is the bum-ass baby mama is behind it.” Kennedi caught the twitch in her friend’s eye and knew the full story had yet to be revealed. “Listen, I don’t know what the history is, but Monroe is innocent and will be treated as such.”
“Ken, what the hell? I would never?—”
“Hey.” Kennedi’s voice went firm. “I have a duty to protect this little girl who is already going through enough. It ain’t personal.”
Spirit’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “I get it. I do. But I’m not here to hurt her. I—” She stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
They rounded the circle, and Kennedi pulled out her car rider tag, slipping it into the window. The bell rang, and kids poured out onto the lawn, backpacks bouncing, voices rising in that chaotic end-of-day energy.
Then Spirit went rigid.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Spirit’s voice was sharp, pointing toward a woman talking to Monroe near the curb.
Kennedi followed her gaze. The woman was too close, her body language aggressive, and Monroe’s shoulders were hunched, her face turned away like she was trying to escape without making a scene.
Kennedi read the situation immediately.
“Oh hell the fuck no,” she said, throwing the car in park and jumping out. Monroe had become like a niece to her. She wasn’t going to stand for her cowering to anyone, especially not an accused crackhead.
Spirit was right behind her. “That’s Monshay’s funky ass.”
When they approached, Monroe spotted Kennedi and ran to her side, relief washing over her face.
“Do we have a problem here?” Kennedi asked Monroe, but never took her eyes off Monshay. To the naked eye, the woman looked like she had her shit together—hair done, outfit coordinated—but dilated pupils didn’t lie.
