“I ain’t shit like you.”
“He was perfect at first, huh?” I step around the island, walking closer to her. “Like…like the guy of your dreams—like the one you used to fantasize about when you were little and first learned about how good boys can make you feel.”
Her throat jumps as she swallows.
“Then one day it flips all of a sudden—at least it seems like it does, even though when you think about it, there were so many red flags you overlooked because he made you feel so alive.” I take another step toward her. “Did you feel like it was your fault the first time he did it?”
“Did…what?”
“Hit you.”
She lets out a quiet breath, then pinches her eyes shut. “Get out.”
“No.”
“Get out of my brother’s house.”
My fingers curl into the palm of my hand. “Answer the question. Did you feel like it was your fault the first time Jamari hit you? Because you’re no better than me, no matter how much you’re trying to make it seem as if you are. You’rejustlike me. You fell for a wolf in sheep’s clothing too. It’s okay to adm?—”
“Shut up!” Her eyes fly open. “Stop saying his name!”
Her soft face contorts into a ravaged mask while the tape slips from her fingers, landing on the floor with a thud.
For some weird reason, I see myself in her pained expression—not the new me—but the old me. The one who used to breathe for AJ. The one who used to lie for him and twist every wrong thing he did to make it right.
“You still love him,” I whisper. “You’re still in love with Jamari, huh?”
She swipes her hand across her red face. “Go home, Lovie.”
I shake my head. “I told you I can’t. I understand you still love Jamari and I’m not judging you for it because I’ve been there, but I don’t love AJ anymore and I just really need to talk to Ri?—”
“So you think you love my brother, then?”
That one feeling I can’t pinpoint pushes out of the clusterfuck in my stomach, thrashing itself against my insides. It jolts me forward and forces me to grab hold of the island with my other hand.
“You can love a man like Pup, Lovie?” she rasps. “Because AJ and Jamari ain’t shit like Pup.”
“I know. He’snothinglike them. He…he would never hit a wom?—”
“You’re not hearing me. They ain’t built like him. There’s a reason they can raise their fist to a woman. But Pup…” She bites her lip, shaking her head and letting out a bitter laugh. “You ever stop and listen to the way people talk about him around here?”
“All the time. They talk about how good of a fighter he is, how he takes care of them, how?—”
“No. You’re just hearing what’s on the surface—all the silly, shallow stuff people say when his name comes up. I’m talking about listening for the real shit that lurks in their voices when they’re low-key warning you about him.”
Her eyes flutter to my clenched fist. “It’s in his eyes, you know?”
“Wha…what is?”
“Daddy and Smit used to take him out back…” She points toward the backdoor. “They used to wail on his ass right there in the yard, and I’d watch from the back porch even though Daddyused to tell me to stay inside. It’s how they break boys like him, you know?”
A harsh rasp wraps itself around her words. “Two grown men shoving their feet into his ribs until one day Pup just stopped screaming and his eyes turned coal black. He took one last kick from Daddy, then pushed himself up from the ground…”
Her voice trails off, and my body aches from not being able to transport myself back in time to hold Rich.
“At thirteen he almost beat Daddy and Smit to death with two broken ribs right in front of that oak tree back there. Atthirteen. His eyes were so black I didn’t think it was him anymore. It felt like somebody else. You ever seen Pup’s eyes like that?”
His face barrels to the forefront of my mind. I remember the way his eyes turned into black pools in Beatrice’s backyard when he stood over Wendell, and the way they swirled into black swarms of anger when he told me what he’d do to AJ, but he never felt like anybody else butmyRich—even when his eyes changed.
