The guard started unfolding the table quietly, like he’d done it before. I hesitated, then stepped back from the doorway.
“A’ight,” I said. “Come on.”
I changed into something comfortable while Sherrell set up. I mean, what I had on was comfortable, but I needed to do something to occupy my mind, not think about the man who’d sent her. She moved with the kind of confidence that madeeverything feel calm, together. When I finally lay down, face in the cradle, my shoulders still climbed up toward my ears as my anxiety reared its ugly head.
Sherrell’s hands started at my upper back, with firm, slow pressure. Her touch was not rushed, not too much. The first real exhale escaped me before I could stop it.
“Good,” she murmured like she approved of it.
“What?” I asked, voice muffled.
“You been holding your breath since we started. It was past time to let it go.”
My throat tightened. Her hands kept moving. After a few minutes, she spoke again.
“You lucky.”
I snorted. Yeah, she didn’t know my life. “Lucky is not the word.”
“Girl, I can tell that man does not play about you.”
Her words tugged at my heart, causing a complicated little ache. I stared down at the floor through the hole in the face cradle, blinking hard and fast.
“He talks about babies like it’s… like it’s guaranteed,” I said, my voice low. “Like I’m supposed to just fall in line with the idea. What if I can’t?—”
I stopped myself. Too much, too soon. Not her business.
Sherrell’s hands paused for half a second, then moved more softly. “I’m not asking you to tell me nothing you don’t want to. But I’ll tell you this. Whatever your journey is—baby or no baby—your body still deserves care.”
I appreciated that. I needed that. Still…
“He scares me. Not like he would hurt me. Just… the way he moves. He moves like the world is supposed to bend to him, like everyone should do what he says, no questions.”
“Powerful men do that,” Sherrell said quietly, sliding her hands up to my shoulders again. “But if he loves you like I thinkhe does just from talking to him, he’s not trying to trap you into anything. He’s trying to build something you actually want.”
I swallowed hard. “I’on know. I can't figure out what he’s up to,” I admitted.
“He’s up to you feeling better. And you believing you can have whatever you want—when you ready,” she replied.
Her fingers worked through a knot near my shoulder blade, and relief spread down my spine. For the first time in what felt like forever, my mind went quiet. My problems were still there, but she made sure my body wasn’t screaming at me. I swear Sherrell had magic in her hands.
I didn’t even remember drifting off. I just knew I was vaguely aware of her helping me sit up, her voice murmuring, “Drink some water, okay? I’ll check in tomorrow about what you want moving forward.”
I mumbled something that might’ve been yes. It hadn’t even been two hours, and I was back in bed. I didn’t wake up until the soft pressure of butterfly kisses brushed my face.
(A Coupleof Hours Before)
“How’s Theory?”
Juvie’s question sounded surprisingly sincere, no goofiness or sarcasm in his tone. I looked over at him as he, Mikhail, and I walked into the ground floor of one of the Sidorov warehouses, the cool and darkness a welcome relief from the Texas heat. An easy little smile curved his mouth, and he shrugged.
“I can be serious sometimes. Been rolling witchu for almost half my life now?—”
I laughed softly. “Six years out of twenty is half, now? Nigga, that math ain’t mathing.”
“Focus, bruh. The point is, them country ass girls got y’all wide open in a way I ain’t never peeped. I need you to get thisright, cuz Ev had Real sick, and I ain’t dealing with that shit again. Ol’ heartsick mothafuckas,” he teased.
“Man, fuck you.”
