“Stupid,” I chastised myself. “I should’ve never given him the time of day.”
I scrubbed harder.
The same spot.
Again.
Again.
I hoped that if I kept going long enough, I could wear the whole conversation outta my head.
My breathing picked up, but I didn’t stop scrubbing. I moved to the sink next, spraying it down and scouring the edges while every word Booda said replayed in my mind.
I hated how easily he got under my skin. Hated that hearing his voice still did something to me. Hated that after everything, my feelings for him still weren’t dead.
By the time I finally stopped, my arms ached, and the apartment smelled heavily of bleach. I tossed the rag into the sink and braced both hands against the counter, lowering my head.
“He ain’t shit,” I whispered.
But standing there alone in my kitchen, I knew the problem wasn’t just Booda.
It was me too, because no matter how angry I was, some part of me still loved him anyway.
CHAPTER 7
Itwisted beneath the blanket, tossing from one side to the other as another strained groan slipped from my throat. Sweat dampened my skin, and my fingers tightened around the cover as the nightmare pulled me deeper into it.
It was hot. Sunlight beat down on my shoulders and stuck to my skin until it became hard to breathe. The smell of fresh dirt and flowers filled my nose, and when I opened my eyes, I was inside the dream.
I was dressed in black, though I couldn’t remember putting the dress on. A casket was being lowered into the ground, and I couldn’t see who was inside.
I didn’t want to know.
My legs felt weak, and the ground seemed to wobble as if I was standing on the deck of a ship.
Around me, people stood in dark clothes, their faces blurred and indistinct, but I could feel their eyes on me. All of them were watching and waiting to see what I would do.
Air wouldn’t fill my lungs. My chest locked up, my vision tunneled, and the grass rushed up to meet me before Booda’s arms closed around my waist.
“I got you,” he whispered as he lifted me off my feet.
He carried me, always, just like he promised the day we met.
The problem was, I didn’t want to be caught. I wanted to fall. I wanted to disappear into that hole with whoever was there, wanted to trade places, wanted literally anything but this moment where I had to stand here and accept that she was gone.
The sobs came out of me, raw and ugly as I clawed at Booda’s chest. “Put me down!”
“Nah, baby. You can’t stand on your own two feet right now, so I’m holding you,” he said, but his voice sounded distant.
My fingers dug into his shirt, and I couldn’t seem to let go. Everything inside me was fracturing, breaking apart piece by piece as I watched that casket disappear into the earth. The finality of it hit different when it was real, when it was her.
Mama.
The word sat heavy in my throat, refusing to come out. If I said it, if I acknowledged it out loud, then it would be true. And I wasn’t ready for it to be true.
“Stop fighting me, baby. It’s time to go home,” Booda murmured, his lips grazing my ear.
I shook my head violently, my whole body trembling. “No. No, I can’t—I can’t leave her here.”
