“Just you,” I murmured, my voice still thick with sleep. “I’m tired.”
“I know.” His thumb caressed my cheek. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Leaving?” I managed to say before his lips covered mine.
The kiss woke my body up, and I gripped his shirt, pulling him onto me. If I hadn’t been fully awake yet, I was after our tongues touched.
“Jazz,” he whispered, pulling away fractionally.
I opened my eyes, and as soon as I met his gaze, my heart skipped a beat.
Hedidsay it.
“I…” He swallowed hard. “Call me if you can’t sleep.”
“You have a game.”
His lips brushed mine again. “I said to call me.”
I nodded, a smile playing on my lips. “Okay.”
He rose to his feet. “I’m going to lock the door behind me, but when you get up, put the dead bolt on.”
“Thank you for coming,” I told him. “I know—”
“Jazz, you don’t have to thank me for being here,” he interrupted. Leaning down so that his face was close to mine, he stared at me. “I wanted to be here. Ineededto be here.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I nodded. “I appreciate it.”
He grabbed my face and planted the sweetest kiss on my lips. “I appreciate you.”
He left my place a couple of minutes later and got home before curfew. Although I was worried about how he’d play, he proved therewas no need. He played a great game, helping the team secure a week-five win. When he called Sunday night, he told me his coach had declined his request to take Saturday practice off. Even though he wasn’t going to be at the memorial, he made a point to show up for me in every way he could.
He came over on Monday night and stayed with me. He held me, massaged me, and comforted me. I woke up Tuesday morning, looked over at him, and felt so thankful. Although I was somber, the school day went by faster knowing that Lamar was at my place waiting for me. But during the last class period, I heard some gasping, whispering, and overall gossiping.
“… and this is why she was gone last week and looking sad this week,” one of my students explained.
I looked up just in time to see the small group on the right side of the classroom staring at me.
“What’s going on?” I asked, making my way toward them.
“Nothing!” they said in unison, flipping over the phone.
I put my hand out. “Hand it here.”
“Ms. Payne,” he complained.
“Phone, or you can go to the office.”
One of the girls snatched the phone and handed it to me. “I’m not going to the office. I’ve already got my stuff for homecoming, and I can’t get in trouble over something I didn’t do.”
I gave her a curt nod. “Thank you.”
Opening the phone, I took a step and then froze.
I was staring at two pictures side by side—one of me and Lamar with a jagged red line between us and one with Lamar and another woman. Reading the caption, I immediately realized who it was.
Milan.
