Heavy handed her drink back to her once she was steady again. “Go back in there before you be late.”
Cyren narrowed her eyes. “You are the distraction here.”
“And yet… you still smiling.”
She immediately tried to straighten her face, but it didn’t work.
Heavy laughed and gave her some space. “Have a good rest of your day.”
Cyren adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder and accepted that trying to play it cool was pointless now.
“You too. And thank you again.”
He shook his head. “A’ight, before you thank me one more time and make shit weird.”
Cyren burst into laughter. Heavy grinned at the sound like he’d been waiting to hear it every day since Friday.
Walking backward toward the building entrance, Cyren smiled. “Drive safe.”
“I will,” he let her know.
She finally turned toward the building, feeling his stare on her the entire walk back. Cyren told herself not to turn around and look, but that lasted all of three seconds. Homegirl couldn’t even make it to five.
Heavy was still standing by his truck, waiting until she was safely inside, with that same handsome smirk that continued to make her stomach tighten. The smile that spread across her face felt entirely too earned for a man she was supposedly trying to slow down with. Him pulling up on her was sweet and thoughtful in a way that she hadn’t been privy to experiencing in months from a man. Hell, from anyone. If Heavy truly didn’t care, he was damn sure putting on an award-winning performance.
7
Heavy’s house was one of the best-looking on the block, and he had no one to thank but his grandfather. It sat on a quiet block that had seen better days but still held on to its pride. The lawn was cut low, the sidewalks were clean, and there wasn’t a stray piece of trash in sight. The porch slightly wrapped around the front, supported by thick wooden columns that had been repainted more times than anyone could count. The numbers on the house were new, but the wood beneath them carried years of weather, history, and hands that had come and gone.
People still called it Mr. G’s house. It didn’t matter that he’d been gone for a minute now. His presence hadn’t really left. The house was passed down to Heavy when he was twenty-four, right before his little vacation. He didn’t nearly have enough time to settle into it and make it his own but it felt like it now. Not entirely content with the area, he’d been contemplating moving.
Heavy learned his lesson about being too comfortable. The word no longer existed in his world. It was disheartening to think that way but he had to. He knew there was so much out there, and he wanted it all. Whatever this life had to offer, he was snatching that shit up and making it his.
There was always negative discourse about people from the hood who made it big and chose to stay there. Heavy didn’t see a problem with that. The problem was the folks who didn’t live there, who caused issues and brought unnecessary drama. Since he’d been home, Heavy had one interaction too many with some young niggas trying to break into his spot.
Whether they knew him or not, didn’t matter. He was going to always protect his home. Sending another grieving mother down to the morgue wasn’t on Heavy’s agenda, but he’d add it before his name was plastered with condolences. There was too much he could physically and mentally lose if he were caught slipping again.
Stepping out of his truck, Heavy glimpsed his surroundings before slamming the door and hitting the locks while listening to his older cousin. He’d called him on the ride home just to see what he had going on. Heavy felt like he’d been on the go for days, so it felt good to catch up.
“Where you say y’all was going again?” Heavy asked, entering his house and dropping his keys inside the blue and gray clay bowl his niece had made for him in pottery class.
He glanced around like he always did, making sure everything was how he left it. Parts of the home were renovated,but it still felt like his grandfather in ways that couldn’t be painted over or replaced.
“Cabo,” Nash replied. “Got a spot right off the water. Real laid back. I ain’t even trying to do too much, just chill, eat good, let my daughter enjoy herself for a few days.”
“You taking her out the country already?”
Nash chuckled. “Yeah, man. She’s been asking me for a trip since we went to Florida this summer. Figured I’d start her early. Let her see something different.”
Heavy nodded, even though Nash couldn’t see him. He moved down the hallway, eyes landing briefly on a framed picture of his grandfather sitting on the end table. The image caught him for half a second before he kept it moving.
“That’s what’s up.”
“You should slide with us,” Nash added, casual like it wasn’t a big deal. “You ain’t been nowhere in a minute.”
He’d never been out of the country either. His mind drifted to Cyren, wondering if Mexico, Cabo specifically, had been on her world tour.
“Nigga, how you know where I been?” he asked, chuckling.
