Page 220 of The Wright Man

Maybe... just maybe... I wasn't a burden after all.

The sun had dipped just low enough to cast everything in a soft, late-afternoon gold, the kind of light that made even cracked concrete look romantic. I followed Daddy outside, the screen door creaking open and shut behind us like it was part of the soundtrack to this new chapter. A breeze stirred the edges of my dress as we stepped down onto the porch, and I had to squint against the brightness.

Maleek, Sticks, and Riq were still unpacking my life with the kind of care most men don't even show toward glass. Maleek looked up first, like he felt me before he saw me, and my knees tried to quit on me again. His skin glowed bronze in the light, his black T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, sweat glistening at his temple like a halo. And when his eyes landed on mine, everything in me stilled.

The storm inside me—the guilt, the fear, the voice that had spent years whispering you're too much—just... shut up.

He handed the green trunk to Sticks and jogged up the walk toward me, that smooth, low-lidded way he moved making my thighs clench on instinct. Daddy peeled off toward the truck, offering the guys a wave and a "Let me make myself useful." I barely registered it. My entire body had gone on high alert because Maleek was in front of me now, towering over me, smelling like sweat, sun, and the faintest trace of soap and sandalwood.

He cupped my face in one big hand, the pad of his thumb brushing under my eye like he needed to check if I'd been crying again.

"You okay?" His voice was deep, quiet, anchoring.

I nodded, my breath catching. "I am now."

He kissed me—soft, chaste, respectful—but still managed to make it feel like a promise. My mouth parted on instinct, but he pulled back before I could embarrass myself right there on the damn porch.

He lowered his voice, eyes never leaving mine. "Your ex won't be bothering you anymore."

Something in his tone made my scalp tingle.

I narrowed my eyes a little. "What'd you do?"

Maleek's mouth curved just barely. "Handled it."

Goddamn.

Just two words. Two very Maleek words.

"You're gonna have to be a little less sexy if we're gonna get through today without me melting into a puddle."

He grinned. "No promises."

I blinked up at him, pulse kicking up behind my ears. Then I rolled my eyes and tried to compose myself.

"Riq and Sticks volunteered to go get your car," he added. "Said they'd drive out to Annapolis and bring it back if you're cool with it. I told them I'd stay here with you—help you unpack. Get you settled in."

My first instinct was to argue. Say I didn't want to be a bother. That I could manage it. That I didn't want to take up space.

But then I heard Daddy in my head.

That boy has never seen you as a burden.

So instead, I exhaled and tilted my head. "Can I even trust them with my baby? That car is older than Bella, and probably just as temperamental."

Maleek chuckled. "Sticks rebuilt half his mama's Buick with duct tape and a dream. And Riq's in love with your car already—keeps calling it a 'vintage stallion' or some shit."

I laughed, the knot in my chest loosening. "Okay. Fine. But if I get it back and she's got a scratch, I'm keying your Ford."

"Noted," he said with a smirk.

I sat down on the porch step as the guys kept working, the movement of their bodies rhythmic and easy. Nobody sighed or bitched or acted like this was a favor they were doing out of obligation.

I watched Maleek lift my mirror with no help—his hands steady, his brow furrowed in focus—and felt something settle in my bones.

Gavin had always made me feel like loving me was work. Like protecting me was a chore. Like keeping me was a compromise.

Maleek moved like I was his joy.