Page 167 of The Wright Man

I cleared my throat, eyes scanning traffic as I moved into the left lane.

"You made me believe in things, Angel. In you. In what was possible. Even in myself."

There was a pause on her end, just her shaky breathing. But it was slowing. Deepening. My chest eased with every second she stayed grounded.

"And you still owe me a tooth, by the way," I added, throwing a little teasing into my tone.

There was a beat of silence. And then:

"Maleek, it was a baby tooth."

There she was. My girl. Even tear-soaked and trembling, she still had that fire.

"Nah, I don't wanna hear it!" I said, laughing for real now, the sound scraping loose some of the panic in my chest. "We were practicing that hook Kareem taught us in your backyard. You cracked my front tooth clean in half. Had me looking like a damn pirate until it fell out."

She giggled. Still tearful, still raw, but the sound—God, that sound—was music. My own personal gospel.

"I said I was sorry," she sniffled. "And I made you an apology gift."

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "A crooked-ass popsicle-stick medal with glitter glue that said—"

"Best punching dummy."

We said it together, voices overlapping in the quiet warmth of shared memory. It hit me hard. The simplicity. The sweetness. The years.

"That was you," I murmured, eyes flicking to the GPS, noting I was getting close now. "Savage, but sweet. Loud, but loving. Chaotic, but cute."

I took a slow breath, let the affection bleed into my voice.

"My Angel."

She didn't say anything, but I heard her. Heard the tears picking up again, soft and sputtering now. Not violent like before. Just vulnerable. Human. Bare.

Then, her voice, small and frayed at the edges:

"I'm a mess," she whispered. "Maleek, I'm so sor—"

"Don't you dare. Don't you apologize for a damn thing." My voice cut through before she could finish, low and firm, no room for argument.

"If you're a mess, I'll help you clean it up. I've got you. Always."

Her breath hitched at that. And then another sob broke through—different this time. Not desperate. Not drowning. Just cracked open.

"Maleek… I'm so broken. I'm falling apart."

I closed my eyes for a second, gripping the wheel tighter.

"If you're falling apart, it's because someone dropped you," I said, my voice quieter now, aching at the edges. I didn't know if I was referring to myself or Gavin. Maybe both. "But you never broke, baby. You survived."

I meant it with every part of me.

And I wasn't going to let her go through this alone.

Not ever again.

"Maleek…"

The sound of my name on her lips—broken, bare, and soft as breath—hit me like a gut punch I didn't want to block. It was too tender. Too real. Like she was handing me something fragile and trusting me not to drop it. After everything that had happened, everything I'd feared I'd lost, hearing her call out to me like that cracked something open in me that I didn't even know was still sealed shut.