"I got you figured out so wrong then, huh?" I said quietly, guilt creeping in.
"Yeah, you do." He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.
We were on Elvis Presley Boulevard now. I giggled, butterflies fluttering in my stomach when we passed by BJ's—the wing spot where Romelo had eaten me out in the bathroom and tongue-fucked my ass for the first time.
He chuckled too, so I knew he was thinking about the same thing.
"You never said where we were going," I spoke up, noticing we were somewhere in South Memphis now.
"I never planned on saying anything," he responded, that cocky smirk back on his face.
"Give me a hint, at least. Knowing you, it's another secret hideout spot." I snickered and cocked my head at him, watching him glower playfully.
"It just might be," he uttered, and I frowned. Then he glanced over at me and chuckled. "But we're going to see your cousins."
That got a smile out of me—the widest smile I'd had in a long time. I didn't want to stress over the past few days, but after that accident with the burnt pot, I'd been dying to check on them. Trecee couldn't relay a message because I'm sure they weren't a priority to her.
The way she treats them is inhumane sometimes. Trecee doesn't have a funny bone in her body when it comes to those kids. I was their root of compassion, and I didn't mind being an outlet. But I felt like I'd failed them.
Without a doubt, I'm sure they called me first when the fire happened—back-to-back calls that I couldn't answer because I was trapped here. Like always, I would've answered on the first ring. Fear was probably etched into them, and they'd gravitated into panic mode, not knowing what else to do.
I wouldn't have freaked out. I would've etched out a solution to ease them.
Romelo didn't have to be vivid about Trecee's words that night, but I knew. She always talked to them like they weren't humans—like they were animals, burdens, problems.
"I miss them so much," I cooed, my voice thick with emotion.
"They asked about you. Monterrius is still blaming himself even after some one-on-one talks with him." He glanced over at me, and our eyes reflected the same type of sadness.
"I figured that."
"I was his age once." Romelo shrugged.
"So they're still at your place, right?" Panic crept into my voice.
"Yeah. They'll be at my house for as long as I say so."
I swooned, leaning back into the seat, and took a deep breath, relief washing over me.
"School is starting soon, and this isn't the route they need to take," I expressed to him. Not that it was any of his business, but Romelo always made it his business. He treated my cousins as if they were from the same bloodline.
"You got a chicken head for an auntie."
I tittered and folded my arms across my seatbelt. "That's one thing we can agree on."
"I ain't never understood how a woman can chase dick as if it's ever gotten her anywhere." He chuckled sarcastically.
"Yolanda and Trecee are one and the same. You don't think Trecee has been chasing you after all these years?"
"On what terms?"
Ruffling my curls, I glanced down and ran my hands over the wrinkles on my Pink shirt, sweeping away a few crumbs from the grilled chicken sandwich I'd made earlier.
"Hers. In her eyes, you were always the standard. She never got dolled up for herself or made decisions on her own. We could be shopping for groceries, and she'd be running down the aisles mumbling shit like, 'What would Romelo get?' Trecee had a personality before you."
Romelo guffawed—a deep, genuine laugh. "I never said she had to live up to my standards. Don't blame me for that shit."
"I'm not blaming you." I put my hands up in defense.
