Heavy shook his head as she continued moving against him. Heavy felt the heat radiating from her pussy, and had this been another time, he would’ve fucked her senseless before sending her home, but that hunger between them that used to be there wasn’t the same anymore. At least not on his end.
Comfort, sure—familiarity, too—but somewhere along the way, they’d shifted into something entirely different. Tish felt it, too. Long before now, but she was trying to hold onto whatever Heavy was trying to take away.
Still, she leaned her head back against his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “You know I would never do anything to disrespect you. I love you too much.”
Heavy’s expression softened for a brief second as he exhaled. “I know you do.” And he did. That’s why he came himself, instead of sending someone else. That’s why he was sitting there now instead of immediately cutting her off and moving on. He had love for her, too, but love didn’t outweigh trust.
The song began fading into another, and Tish finally pulled back with a sigh. “Okay. I guess I gave you enough free entertainment.”
Heavy smirked, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a thick knot of money, then handed it to her. She owed him, but he’d never shortchange her at work. He wasn’t that much of an asshole.
Grinning, Tish accepted it. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“I wish you’d give me more of your time, the way you freely give me money.”
That’s all she wanted from him, but she never got it. Tish didn’t know what it was, but recently, she felt like she was pulling teeth for Heavy to come see her without having to bring it up first. It was draining, and she was trying not to nag him, but deep down she knew what it was,or what itwasn’tanymore.
“One of them I can’t get back, so I use it wisely,” Heavy stated.
Tish heard everything he wasn’t saying loud and clear. Heavy headed toward the door before she could stop him again.
“Get that shit in check with your brother,” he reminded her. “I don’t wanna get involved, but I will.”
Tish nodded this time without arguing. “I got it.”
Heavy lingered for a second longer, eyes moving over her one last time before he opened the door. “Be safe in here,” he said.
The concern in his voice instantly softened her. “I will.”
He left the room, leaving Tish standing there with money in her hand and the painful realization that even though Heavy still cared about her, his heart would never belong to her, nor would he. Not in the way she wanted him to.
The first thingCyren noticed when she stepped into Mama Dot’s Pantry was the smell.
Not just of food, though that was heavy in the air, too. The delicious aroma of seasoned greens that’d been simmering low, baked chicken fresh out of the oven, and sweet potatoes made Cyren’s stomach rumble.
Besides the food, the smell was one of comfort. Cyren didn’t know what it was, but every time she came to volunteer, a physical warmth enveloped her. Her heart immediately felt lighter as she greeted the other volunteers who’d come out to serve the community. The place wasn’t big, but it didn’t feel small either.
Tables were set up along one side of the room, lined with foil pans and serving trays. Mama Dot had everything organized in a way that made the flow easy. Volunteers moved about passing plates, refilling trays, and greeting people with friendly smiles. Along the opposite wall were shelves stocked with canned goods, boxed meals, toiletries, and essentials people didn’t think about until they didn’t have them anymore.
At the back, a small whiteboard hung near the door with the day’s meals, and the times they were open was written in bright colors. Cyren removed her coat and adjusted the apron tied around her waist as she stepped further inside. Spotting a fewfamiliar faces, she waved. She’d been coming here for the last few weeks. At first, she just dropped off donations, then decided to stay a little longer. Now, she was trying to make it part of her weekend routine.
“Hey, baby,” Mama Dot’s voice gently called from behind the serving table.
Cyren smiled immediately, making her way over. “Hey, Mama Dot.”
Dorothy Ellison stood behind the table with her usual calm presence, her gray hair wrapped neatly in a scarf, and her soft brown eyes taking everything in at once without ever seeming overwhelmed. She moved a bit slower than everyone else, but somehow, nothing missed her.
“You’re right on time,” she said, passing Cyren a pair of gloves and giving her a hug. “I was about to get to work, but I need to be in the kitchen.”
“Short on volunteers today?” Cyren asked.
“Mhm. But that’s okay. We’re still going to work it out and have a good day. Ain’t that right?” she asked, smiling at a slim girl with a sleeping baby attached to the front of her. She didn’t look a day over sixteen.
She smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“I’ma go wash my hands and grab a hair net. I’ll be right back,” Cyren told her.
