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“Well, I would hope that my sincerity flows onto you and makes you decide to tell me the truth. Is there any possibility the baby is not mine?”

“No, there isn’t,” I answered immediately. “I’m sure, Trey, and I didn’t make a baby because I’ve had my period since he died. It’s yours, Amir. For the first time in my life, I can be sure about that because I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

“Alright then, I believe you.”

Before I could even process the relief settling over me, the hospital door pushed open, and a nurse stepped inside holding a clipboard against her chest.

“Hello, Jasmine.” She smiled because she was one of the nicer ones.

“I’m sorry, but all visitors have to leave now.”

Amir looked over at her without moving from beside me.

“I’m not a visitor.” He spoke up.

“I’m her kid’s dad.”

The nurse’s expression changed instantly.

“Oh, so you are Dad? Nice to meet you,” she replied.

When I looked towards Amir, he shrugged his shoulder slightly.

“Well, okay then, get some rest tonight and let me know if you need more blankets or anything,” the nurse replied, softening her tone.

Once she left the room, Amir looked over at me.

“You heard her,” he said quietly.

“Get some rest tonight.”

He opened his arms, inviting me over into his lap.

I instantly pushed myself up from the chair and moved over toward him before carefully lowering myself into his lap sideways. Amir immediately wrapped one arm around my waist to hold me steady without saying a word about it.

I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat underneath my ear. It was slow and calm, and now my body wasn't so tense.

Somewhere between him rubbing his hand softly against my side and the machines humming beside my baby’s bed, I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Comfortable, relieved, and at peace.

Chapter 9

Troy

11:30 pm

“Yo, I got the wings, nigga. You had lemon pepper and sweet barbecue, right?”

“Yeah, and my order had better be fuckin right.” I snatched the container from my runner's hands.

If it was one thing I ain’t play about, it was my food. I once shot a nigga who got my deli sandwich order wrong. Niggas should’ve known I don’t fuck with Swiss cheese. Fuck around and look like Swiss cheese playing with my food.

I leaned back against the hood and tapped on the windshield where Maleka was sitting inside the car with her arms folded tight across her chest. She had run to my spot yesterday, swearing Crew pulled up on her, and ever since then, she hasn’t wanted me to leave her sight. She was mad now because I wouldn’t go home with her, but I wasn’t moving at her beat; she was marching at mine. I had too much shit going on in the city right now to take it in early. With the way shit was going, my ass didn’t have time to do anything but eat, sleep, and fuck.

I tried explaining to her scary ass that if Crew really wanted her dead, he would’ve shot her in the back while she was running away. They ain’t call that nigga the Slim Reaper for nothing. He was probably just bringing his sister to talk to her. After all, she and I were keeping us fuckin with each other strictly in house, being lowkey with our links and shit. If you weren’t in my circle, you didn’t know I was fucking with the girl.

“What is it, Troy?” She turned her lips up at me with an attitude.