Page 206 of Own It

“My bad. This ain’t ever happened to a nigga before. I was legit fucking speechless,” I admitted, and she broke into a wide grin.

“You’ve never had a pregnancy scare?”

“Nah. Too careful.” I forced her legs around me so I could carry her down to the kitchen since I heard the oven sounding off.

“Me neither.”

“So why you acting like I’m the only one new to this shit?” I smiled, basking in the way she giggled. “You are beautiful, baby. Even more so now.” I spoke against her lips before kissing them back to back. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Rah.”

* * *

“This pie is amazing, Mrs. Wade,” I told the older woman before me as I sat in her kitchen, cleaning the plate that held my second piece of apple crumble.

“Thank you!” She beamed. “Now whose son did you say you were?” she queried just as the front door opened and closed.

“Your husband was good friends with my uncle,” I lied, having no uncles on either side.

I only had an aunt, which was Talid’s mother. Nate was an only child, and I assumed my grandparents knew not to make the mistake of procreating twice. Thank God.

“Oh, right!” She brightened. “Here Chris is now!” she told me, waving her husband into the kitchen who stopped in his tracks at the sight of me, confused as to who the fuck I was and why I was in his spot.

Christopher Wade was the medical examiner not only for my mother but Zaire as well. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he’d probably known about and did a lot of shit that was unsavory and had conspired with my father.

“Do I know you?” he asked, his wife hanging off of him. It was nice to see them still in love after being married for thirty-five years. That was why I was gonna do something nice and send them home together.

“Let’s talk,” I replied.

“He says you know his uncle,” Mrs. Wade chimed in, but her husband was still puzzled, and rightfully so.

“Nate Godfrey,” I said and watched the immediate shift in his body language.

“Uh, yeah, let’s uh . . . go talk.” He left the kitchen.

“Should I heat up your dinner?” his wife called to our backs.

“Uh, give me a minute, Christy!” he called back, leading me to what appeared to be a man cave.

“Aww, Chris and Christy. Match made in heaven,” I said, taking in his luxe ass den that he probably paid for by doing favors for Nate.

“He sent you?” Chris inquired.

“Nah. He don’t know I’m here, and I’m gon’ warn you now, nigga, I’m impatient, so when I ask you a question, answer the shit and immediately. Once you get to stuttering and stammering and thinking too fucking long, that’s gon’ tell me you lying, and then I’m gon’ get upset. And I don’t think I need to tell you why that ain’t a good thing.”

Chris’s lids lowered as he took me in before he scoffed. “You’re his son, or his nephew that looks just like him and carries his evil streak, but I never knew Nate to have any siblings.”

“What you know about my mama’s death?” I inquired, ignoring his spot-on hypothesis because I didn’t give a fuck, and true enough, that shit wasn’t a compliment.

“Helen Godfrey. She died from a heart attack. I remember that.” He put his hands along his waistline, taking in a deep breath.

Taking my gun off my hip, I removed the safety, pressing it to the middle of Chris’s forehead.

“You better tell me what I wanna know, or I’m gon’ blow ya fucking brains out, then go do the same to ya missus.” I nodded upward, having heard her ascend their staircase moments ago.

“Alright. Alright.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “She had a fractured skull. It had been completely cracked, and I could tell she had a terrible fall or had been hit over the head with something.” He sang like a fucking canary, and though I knew I was on the money with Nate having done some shit to my mama, hearing it and it being confirmed felt like a boulder to my stomach.

“And you agreed to lie about that shit!” I barked, nudging his forehead with my heat.