Page 108

Ebony’s face comes into view. She leans down so I can focus. Her eyes are red and puffy.

“They’re okay,” she says. “They’re with Ashlynn. They’re safe.”

Relief floods over me like a wave, but it’s short-lived. “Where’s Julian?” I croak, my voice thin and cracked even as I try to raise it.

Silence.

Everyone in the room—Mama, Ebony, my auntie, even the doctor—glances at each other, but nobody answers.

“Do you need anything?” Mama asks, smoothing the sheet across my lap like that might distract me.

I try to sit up and regret it immediately. My body screams in protest. My head pounds, and there’s pain just under my collarbone that’s radiating outward like a wildfire trapped inside me. I wince and fall back against the pillow.

“Let’s just hear what the doctor—“ Mama begins.

“No,” I sob, cutting her off. The tears come faster than I can wipe them. “I don’t wanna talk to anybody until I know how Julian is. Just tell me he’s okay. Please.”

Ebony sighs. She looks around, locking eyes with the family, then goes to the door.

I turn my face toward the ceiling and cover my eyes with my hand. The tears sting salty and hot down the side of my face. I feel helpless. Every cell in my body aches for him. I need to see him. I need…him.

I hear heavy footsteps and sigh with relief. I know the sound of those boots anywhere.

My heart leaps.

The tears come again.

And then he’s here, staring down at me.

He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His face is thinner, too. But that doesn’t matter. It’shim.

He leans down, gently pulling me into his arms. I melt against him, sobbing into his shirt. I don’t care about the IV or the pain or the loud beep of the machines. I only care that he’s here, and that he’s holding me.

I hear my mother’s voice over my sobs. “Let’s give them a minute.”

“But the doctor—“

“Come on, Ebony. Now.”

And then, it’s quiet.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand trembling as he brushes my hair back. “I’m so sorry.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m still overwhelmed.

“You don’t have to worry about anything anymore,” he says. “I took care of it.”

I blink up at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I settled all scores.”

He steps back, his expression unreadable, then reaches into his pocket.

When I see what comes out, I gasp.

A gold chain.

A dollar sign pendant.