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Ace

The streets around my complex are packed with rowdy ass kids, their laughter echoing through the neighborhood as they run from house to house, pillowcases and plastic pumpkins swinging at their sides.

It was kinda iffy last year and the year before. My bell only rang maybe three times all night. But they’re out this year, begging, as is customary. I’m lowkey happy to see it.

I drop a handful of fun-sized Snickers bars—only the good shit at the Taylor crib—into a little princess’s bag, then do the same for the third Black Panther I’ve seen tonight. They thank me and run off to my neighbor as I retreat back inside, out of the crisp chill.

Atlanta fall is upon us. If it hasn’t already, it always shows up on Halloween. Never later.

I sit on my couch in front of the TV, hitting play on A Nightmare on Elm Street . It’s my Halloween tradition, but it ain’t hitting like it used to.

My mind is wandering, like it’s done all night. A couple of those kids were small, like toddler small, and it got me to thinking about Elijah. He would have been old enough to walk around in a costume this year. If his little legs got tired, I imagine carrying him on my shoulders from house to house. Being a father.

The thought digs in deep, reopening a wound I thought had closed two years ago. I think about Arnelle and I wonder if she sees the same pictures in her mind. If she ever obsesses over what could have been. The small, quiet moments. The normalcy. Just…life.

I run a hand over my head, reaching for my phone to check the group chat. Them niggas been in there cutting up all night. Bron and Titus posted memes. Jovan was complaining about some girl. And Dayton casually dropped a pic of him and Shara dressed up like Beetlejuice and Lydia like we weren’t supposed to clown the fuck out of them.

Ace

All I’ma say is I know you must love that girl with all your heart.

Jovan

lmao

Titus

Lanky nigga look like jack skellington

Dayton

Where you been, A? We thought you got snatched up by the ghost of pussy past

They had to go and mention her.

I shake my head, placing my phone face down next to me.

It’s been two weeks since I saw her. Well, since I broke into her place and fucked her out of my system.

Getting in was easy. I spotted a design flaw the first time I was there. It’s the engineer in me. Took the whole pane out with a utility knife.

The hard part was forcing myself to leave after.

She looked like she wanted to die watching me walk out of her room. It took everything in me not to wrap my arms around her and hold her until she fell asleep. But I had to go, for my own sake. For my own fucking sanity.

I haven’t dwelled on her much since then. I think—I think —I’m finally getting over it. Over her.

My chest feels lighter than it has in months. I’m focused on the shit that matters. Work, back at it in the gym, the project. Me and Mama are all set to go to the White House. I actually heard real excitement in her voice when I invited her.

My doorbell rings again. I hit pause on the remote and jump up, ready to deal more sugar to children. I feel a twinge of loneliness, maybe even some regret, but I push it out of my mind.

Better to be alone than stuck with crazy.

I’m just sliding under the covers when my phone vibrates. I expect it to be the group chat again, but when I glance at the screen, my stomach drops.

I’m at the bridge

The fuck does that mean? Why would she be at the bridge? And at this time of night?

I stare at the message, willing it to make sense of itself for me. It’s been two weeks of complete silence, and now, out of nowhere, this.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard. A dozen different responses form and dissolve in my head before I finally type back.

Why

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then, nothing.

I blow out a breath, gripping my phone tighter. My head is telling me to leave it alone. To not let myself get caught up in whatever game she’s playing.

But I already know that’s not gonna happen.

I throw some clothes on and rush out, having no idea what the hell I’m walking into.

I make the short drive in silence. There isn’t really any music that could properly accompany my growing sense of dread.

The bridge looms in the distance as I pull up to the site, its skeletal frame stretching across the water, bathed in the eerie glow of the streetlights. The river below is black, just barely reflecting the moon.

I pass her car on the way in. That shit is a fucking beater. I’ve seen it before, of course, but I didn’t notice how bad it looked. How the hell did I let her drive around in that?

My headlights sweep over the gravel lot as I pull in next to it.

I kill the engine and sit for a second, gripping the wheel, trying to talk myself out of this. But there’s no alternative. I can’t leave her out there alone like this.

I get out, closing my door quietly behind me. Wind rushes through the trees, cutting through my sweatshirt, making me wish I’d worn something thicker. It smells like damp earth out here, and the dying embers of a distant bonfire—somebody’s Halloween night celebration on its last legs.

I step onto the dirt path, making my way to the site. The incline is steep and uneven under my Jordans. I wish I’d worn my boots. I move slow, careful, my eyes locked on the figure at the top of the hill.

She’s right at the edge, her legs pulled up, her arms wrapped around them. Her hair is loose and blowing in her face, but she’s not moving. She stares straight ahead at the unfinished structure, laser focused.

I stop a few feet away and watch her. I don’t know how long I stand there, but she never looks over at me.

Finally, I clear my throat, closing the distance between us.

“What are you doing out here?”

She exhales slowly, still not looking at me. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Worried?” She smiles like she pities me. “You thought I’d do something stupid?”

I hesitate. “Yeah.”

That makes her laugh. It’s not joy, though. More like amusement laced with bitterness. “You actually thought I came up here to kill myself?”

The way she says it makes my stomach turn. “I honestly didn’t know what to think.”

She shakes her head, finally turning to look up at me with shadowed, unreadable eyes. “I thought about it."

I blow out a breath.

"Climbing up there," she continues. "Throwing myself off so you could find me on the ground in the morning. Bleeding…" she trails off. "Broken."

She closes her eyes. "I wanted you to feel guilty about what you did."

What I did?

My teeth grit as anger roils inside of me.

"But I changed my mind," she says softly. "And I decided I was gonna do something else. I was gonna…fuck up your bridge.”

“The fuck did you just say?” I ask, my fists balling up involuntarily. I heard her. Heard every word. And it makes me want to wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze.

“I wanted to mess with it,” she says. “I wanted to cause some damage. To get back at you.” She pauses to watch my reaction. “But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

She turns away again, eyes locked on the metal skeleton of what is currently my life’s work. “I sat here thinking about it. I didn’t really have a plan, just the idea of what I would do. I guess I had concepts of a plan,” she jokes in monotone. “But I realized…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

She rests her chin on her knees. “That’s a first for me.”

I exhale slowly, my body still coiled tight.

She huffs out a laugh. “It’s crazy. That’s how I know I really love you. I’m not just obsessed with you. It’s not a game. It’s real. I can’t hurt you because I really do love you .”

“What kind of twisted, fucked up logic is that?”

She closes her eyes. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a twisted, fucked person.”

I sit down beside her, making sure I keep a little space between us. We both stare at the bridge in silence as the cold wind whips around us.

“I know I did too much,” she finally says.

I glance at her. She’s still in the same position, arms wrapped around her knees, hands locked together, nails digging into her skin. I wanna believe her, but I can’t take anything she says at face value.

That’s how we got here.

I’m about to speak when I notice her shoulders shaking. I think she’s laughing again until I look at her face.

She lifts her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes like she’s trying to force the tears back inside.

“I’ve been fucked up for a long time,” she says, her voice cracking. “I just wanted somebody to love me. Somebody to belong to, who belongs to me. I need to know what that feels like.”

That pricks me right in my chest. To a lesser extent, I need the same thing.

“I’ve been through some shit,” she says sharply, punctuated by sniffles. “My first love abused me. Treated me like shit. Other people, all my life, called me a weirdo. Treated me like an outcast.” She blows out a shaky breath. “My father…”

My eyes narrow. “What about him?”

She locks her hands again. Digs into her skin. “He crossed lines no father should ever cross.”

I stare at her, unblinking, my pulse pounding in my ears. What she just said…if I’m understanding her right…I don’t know how to react to it. If I even should react, or if I should just listen. But it’s making me feel things I don’t wanna feel.

“Raya—“

“Maybe I’m not lovable.” She shrugs unconvincingly. “It’s whatever.”

Something in me breaks. I move to put my arm around her, but I stop myself. I just can’t shake the feeling that this could all be another game. I’m still questioning shit. Her. Myself.

But when she doubles over, sobbing, her whole body wracked with pain, I can’t just sit there.

I move before I can think, pulling her into my arms.

She clings to me, her fingers gripping my sweatshirt like she’s scared I’m gonna disappear. I rest my chin on top of her head, closing my eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair. I think about the last time I held a woman like this. I was powerless then. Useless.

As she cries into my shirt, I hold her tighter, even as my mind is telling me I shouldn’t do this. But what’s the alternative? I can’t leave her here.

“You’re coming with me,” I say against the top of her head.

She sniffs. “Where?”

“I’m not sending you back to that house.” My voice is firm. Final. “You’re coming to my place.”

She doesn’t argue.

I get up, helping her stand. Her legs are shaky, her breathing uneven. I lead her back down the hill, keeping my hand on the small of her back. She’s shivering now, and for the first time, I notice she’s out here in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

I stop, pull my hoodie over my head, and push it down over hers. When we get back to the parking lot, I make the decision to take her car. Mine can stay here. This is my site, after all.

I grab the keys from her and deposit her in the passenger side.

When I start the car, the check engine light greets me, bright and insistent, telling me what a fuckboy I’ve been for letting her drive around in this tin can. But how was I supposed to know? She never mentioned it. Barely let me get close to it.

That’s also how we got here.

Back at my place, I lead her straight up to my bedroom. We haven’t spoken a word to each other since the bridge, and that’s alright with me. I don’t wanna be lied to. I don’t wanna have to decipher. I just wanna make her feel better, even if it’s only for tonight.

She stands limply in the center of my room as I pull her shirt over her head. She lets me undress her without protest, then I lay her down on my bed.

I strip down, then slip in beside her. She turns to me, her face pressing against my chest. Her breath is warm. Her body is soft, melting against mine like she’s a part of me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “For everything.”

I run a hand across her scalp. “Go to sleep, Ray.”

She sniffles, nodding against me.

I stay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling, watching over her in my own way.

I was out. I had the clean break I needed. But here she is in my arms again.

And I don’t know how to let her go.