Page 207

I was glad.

Yonas needed peace, and if letting him spend a few quiet days in a safe environment helped him clear his head before facing his legal battle, I didn’t see the harm in it.

Later that night, around ten o’clock, I helped Granny get comfortably settled in her room with her medication and extra water by her nightstand. I then went upstairs, tucked Kaidence into bed, read him two bedtime stories, and waited until his soft, rhythmic breathing filled the room before tiptoeing out.

I took a long, hot shower, letting the steam work the remaining tension out of my shoulders.

Once I was dressed for bed, I stepped out into the hallway, my eyes drifting across the open space toward the far guest suite.

Yonas’s door was shut tight… not a single sound came from behind the wood.

The second-floor hallway was dead silent.

I reached out, clicked off the main hallway light, and stepped back inside my bedroom.

As the door clicked shut behind me, I stared into the dark room, feeling that all-too-familiar weight pressing gently against the air.

For once, I just hoped the mansion would let everybody under this roof get a peaceful night’s sleep.

Chapter twenty-three

Caspian

The first thing this nigga did when Lakelyn showed him to the guest room was start unpacking.

A whole mothafuckin’ investigation was hanging over his head, hundreds of thousands of dollars had already gone to attorneys, lawyers were calling him every damn day, his career was sitting somewhere between maybe salvageable and completely fucked, and apparently there wasn’t a single place in the entire country where the nigga could go clear his head except my goddamn house.

Yonas didn’t sit down, take a nap, or call one of those expensive-ass lawyers he was supposedly trying to escape from.

Nah.

His first order of business was unpacking like he had just checked into an extended-stay resort.

I stood near the bedroom door watching him pull clothes from one of his suitcases, almost impressed by the audacity.

One shirt became two, two became three, and by the time he reached for another one, I frowned.

This nigga done lost his mothafuckin’ mind. Ain’t no way you unpacking yo’ whole goddamn life in my house.

Yonas walked over to the closet, opened it, and started hanging his clothes like he planned to stay long enough for wrinkles to become a serious concern.

The nigga had brought dress shirts, jeans, sweats, shoes, and enough cologne to smell good through the next three economic recessions, all for what was supposed to be a few days. I knew what Lakelyn was thinking: the nigga had been there for her when she needed somebody, and now she wanted to return the favor.

That was my woman: good-hearted, independent, and forever making room for everybody else’s problems even when she had enough of her own.

I couldn’t fault her for that.

But this nigga?

From what I heard, he had money, property, and hotels he could afford without even checking the nightly rate… probably a whole damn mansion somewhere with guest rooms sitting empty and collecting dust, yet he had brought his overnight bags into mine.

I watched him place one pair of shoes neatly inside the closet, then line another pair beside them like he was organizing his side of the damn marriage.

Oh, you getting comfortable-comfortable. Nigga, you coming to a Halloween party or seeking permanent fucking residency?

He couldn’t hear me yet, and that was probably a good thing because every hanger he touched was pissing me off a little more.

I stood there watching him hang another shirt, smooth his hand down the front of it, then reach into the suitcase for something else like he had all the time in the world.