Page 4 of Juke (DeLuca Brothers #4)

Juke

I blinked a few times and stretched slow, shoulder popping from how I slept.

Sophi’s couch wasn’t small, but I wasn’t exactly built to be sleeping on no fucking couch.

Still, I’d take a sore back over the idea of Sophi spending the night scared and alone any damn day.

I sat up and rubbed my face before I headed down the hall to the bathroom.

Once I made it to the bathroom, I handled my business, then washed my hands and splashed water on my face to help wake me up.

I didn’t plan on staying, so I didn’t have a toothbrush.

I knew Sophi had extras, but I needed to go find her and get one.

I stepped out the bathroom, then headed toward her bedroom. I paused for a second before knocking twice against the frame, waiting for her to respond. Moments later, I heard her voice, muffled but clear. “Yeah?” She answered.

I eased the door open just a crack. “You got a spare toothbrush?”

She was still in bed, curled on her side in a T-shirt that slid off one shoulder, the comforter pulled to her waist. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and the room smelled like vanilla and something soft I couldn’t name.

Her eyes met mine and lingered. “Yeah,” she said slowly, voice still thick from sleep.

“Top shelf in the hallway closet. They’re in a clear box. ”

“Aight. ’Preciate it.”

I didn’t move right away. Neither did she.

I looked at her longer than I should’ve, letting my eyes drag over her blemish free chocolate covered face, the dip of her neck, the way her fingers clutched the edge of the blanket.

She looked… vulnerable. Still a little shaken, even under all that calm she liked to wear.

“You good?” She asked breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” I said, stepping back finally. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be out the way.”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip like she was trying to figure out what to say.

I didn’t give her time to overthink it. Nodding, I turned and went to the hallway closet, found the box she mentioned, and grabbed a toothbrush.

After I brushed my teeth and rinsed my face again, I headed toward the kitchen.

Sophi was already there when I walked in.

She had on the same T-shirt that barely covered her shapely thighs.

She had on those lil’ ass shorts females liked to wear around the house, and her pretty feet were bare minus the white French tip line on her toes.

Sophi was hands down the prettiest chick I’ve come across, and that included her soul.

Her chocolate skin and chinky eyes were just a plus.

From my knowledge, she wore her own hair most of the time, which was already dark and long like the shit these hos paid for.

Her back was turned to me, so she didn’t know I was behind her, watching her like a creep.

“You always move this fast in the morning?” I asked, voice still gravelly from sleep.

She glanced over her shoulder with a tired smile. “I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I figured I’d do something instead of lying there overthinking.”

“Overthinking about what?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just turned the blender on and drowned out the silence for a few seconds. When it stopped, she poured two glasses and slid one across the counter toward me.

“Mango, pineapple, and ginger,” she said. “Try it.”

I held the glass up and looked at it before I took a sip. “This shit is actually good as fuck.”

“Thank you.” She simpered.

“You feeding me, too?” I smirked.

“Depends. You like eggs?”

“However you make ’em, I’ll eat ’em.”

She shied away from my stare as she cracked two eggs into a pan.

I leaned against the counter while she moved through the kitchen with ease. The tension from earlier hadn’t left… it just settled into something quieter now.

“I meant what I said last night,” I told her, breaking the silence.

“I know,” she countered, but didn’t turn around.

“You ain’t gotta worry, shorty. If he gets out, if he don’t—don’t matter. I’ll handle it.”

“I don’t want you getting caught up in my mess, Rashad.”

“Too late,” I said, sipping my smoothie. “I’m already in it.”

That made her look over her shoulder.

“I didn’t ask you to be, though.”

“You didn’t have to.” I stared at her for a second. “Sometimes you show up because it’s right. Not ’cause somebody asked you to.”

Her expression softened, but she said nothing else.

Just focused on the food, like that was the safer option.

When we sat to eat, the conversation slowed.

We talked about random shit—the weather, and the gym.

Nothing deep… just something to break the silence.

After we finished, I rinsed my plate and dried my hands on the dish towel.

“I’m ’bout to head out,” I said. “Gotta hit the gym and check in with Deion.”

She followed me toward the door with her arms folded, like she didn’t really want me to leave.

“Thanks for staying,” she mumbled.

“You ain’t gotta thank me for that.” I looked at her. “If you need me to, I’ll come every night.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something but decided against it.

“I’ll be back later,” I said.

“You don’t have to—”

I cut her off with a small smirk. “―I’ain ask for yo’ permission, shorty.”

She exhaled, trying not to smile. “Okay.”

I stepped out into the hallway but paused before the elevator. When I turned back, I caught her still at the door, watching me like maybe she wanted me to stay after all.

***

When I left Sophi’s, I headed straight to my place to shower and change.

Once I was done, I threw on some sweats and a black tee, grabbed a water bottle, and headed to the gym.

By the time I walked in, MJ and Deion were already there, posted by the weights.

MJ was setting up the incline bench while Deion sat on his phone, probably in somebody’s business.

I looked around to make sure that everything was up to par before joining them.

“Took you long enough,” MJ said without looking up.

“I had to go home first. Unlike you niggas, I’on walk around looking and smelling like yesterday.”

“I be in too much pussy not to wash my ass, nigga,” Deion bragged.

I looked at him like he was the stupidest nigga ever. “You a nasty nigga.”

“Far from nasty… well maybe a lil’ bit.” He smirked.

“Anyway,” MJ cut in before the jokes could keep flying. “Boom hit me this morning. He wanna officially set up the rematch.”

I grabbed a towel off the rack. “When?”

“Soon,” he uttered. “He’s throwing twenty bands in the pot. Winner takes all.”

I snorted. “So, that nigga tryna pay me to knock his ass out again? Bet. Set it up.”

MJ nodded. “I figured you’d say that.”

Deion chuckled. “Twenty bands to get his shit rocked? That’s the most productive ‘L’ he ever took.”

“Right?” I countered, tossing my water bottle down and stepping up to the bench. “If the nigga wanna pay me to beat his ass, I’ll gladly deliver that shit.”

“I’on know,” Deion said, grinning. “He might come in there making his shit stick this time. You gone lose yo’ money and end up laid out.”

“I’d beat my own ass before I lose to that sorry ass nigga,” I snarled.

“Yeah… yeah.” He waved me off. “You say that shit now until you wake up on ya back.”

“Keep running yo’ pussy-eaters,” I warned, laying back and gripping the bar. “Ya jokes ain’t got no weight, just like yo’ po’ ass.”

That made MJ laugh. “Damn, bro. You gone take that?”

“Fuck both you niggas.” Deion frowned causing me and MJ to laugh harder.

We kept working out, and after a while, MJ tossed me a towel and gave me a look.

“You straight though?”

“I’m good.”

“Nah, I mean… Sophi. She straight?” he asked.

I nodded. “Told her about Rio’s parole hearing. She ain’t take it well.”

“Damn,” MJ muttered. “You know what kinda time that nigga on?”

“Not really,” I said, wiping sweat from my neck. “I just knows she’s scared as fuck, and that shit hits deep. She was shook when I told her that nigga was going up for parole sooner than expected.”

“Damn,” Deion mumbled.

“I stayed with her last night to make sure she was good. I couldn’t leave her like that.”

“You stayed?” Deion raised a brow. “When the fuck you start doing sleepovers?”

“Chill out,” I cut in. “I slept on the couch. I’ain on that type of time with her.”

“But you care, though,” MJ interjected. “You don’t just crash on couches for every chick.”

“She ain’t every chick,” I said, without thinking.

“Uh huh,” Deion smirked. “So what is she?”

“None of your fucking business,” I snapped.

“Aight… just don’t start something if you ain’t ready to finish it. From the way you explain the shit, she’s clearly already been through enough.”

“I know,” I said, voice lower now. “That’s why I’m there. I ain’t tryna play her. I just… ain’t letting her go through this shit alone.”

We went quiet again for a moment before Deion broke the silence like his ignorant ass always did.

“I still think you a bitch, but at least this time it’s for a good cause.”

“Keep playing and I’ma put you on yo’ neck,” I warned.

“You wish, muthafucka.” He grinned. “I’ll even let you stretch first.”

MJ laughed as we walked toward the sparring mats.

I was always ready to fight… and now? I had a reason to more than I ever did.

***

I left the gym just after five, soreness in my shoulders and sweat still clinging to my back. The fight offer, the jokes, the weight of everything riding in silence beside me as I drove home. I pulled out my phone and hit up Buck.

“Yo,” he answered on the second ring.

“Aye, I need to holla at you.”

“You good?”

“Yeah… just need to go over some shit with you.”

“Pull up to Vault. I’ll be in my office.”

I hung up without another word and headed home to shower and change first.