Page 24

Selfies she took on my phone, throwin’ up the peace sign in my bed with one of my hoodies on.

That pic of her laid out in my studio chair, sleep with her mouth halfway open and her notebook still in her lap.

A bunch of blurry candids I’d taken of her when she didn’t know—pen cap in her mouth, brows furrowed, workin’ hard like the damn genius she was.

And then, my favorite one… the one she made me keep even though I swore it was dumb.

It was a photo of me and her, laid up in bed, her head on my chest, both of us smilin’.

She was the only one that could get a real ass grin outta me like that.

I locked the phone and tossed it again. I just sat there in the driver’s seat outside my mama’s house, drownin’ in the silence, all over again. And for the first time since the funeral... I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

It took a minute for me to compose myself, to calm down enough before I went in that house to face Queenie. When I was ready, I slipped a piece of Spearmint gum in my mouth then got out of the car.

When I walked in, the house was too damn quiet.

I pushed the door open, letting the familiar creak echo through the hallway.

The smell hit me before I even made it to the kitchen—spaghetti and catfish, another comfort meal she always made when we didn’t have much in the fridge growin’ up.

I hated how comforting it felt. Like it was okay to come here and pretend everything wasn’t fallin’ apart.

Queenie was at the counter, wine glass in one hand, phone in the other. She didn’t even look up when I walked in. “Whoever you sleepin’ with now better not have had you late for my dinner,” she muttered, scrolling with her thumb.

“I ain’t sleepin’ with nobody,” I mumbled, dragging my feet toward the fridge to grab a bottle of water—because Hennessey at this hour would send her over the edge.

She looked up then, one eyebrow raised. “Mmmhm. That why you smell like cologne and bad decisions?”

I gave her a lazy smirk. “I came from the studio.”

“Must’ve been a strip club-themed session.” I didn’t respond. I just leaned against the counter and cracked the bottle open, drinking half of it in one go. She put her phone down and finally turned to look at me. Her eyes softened. “You look tired, baby.”

I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You look like hell, Royal.”

The way she said my name made me exhale long and hard. I didn’t have the energy to argue. My head was too full. My chest too tight. “I’m just… goin’ through it, Ma.”

“I know. But this ain’t the way.” She walked around the counter, leaned on the opposite side of it, and folded her arms across her chest. “You drinkin’ like a fish. Fightin’ in public. Wildin’ out. And don’t think I ain’t heard that you cursed Zay out so bad he ain’t even been back around.”

I scoffed. “He should’ve protected King.”

“You mean like you should’ve?” The jab landed.

Right in the gut. I blinked at her. She kept goin’.

“You blame Zay. You blame me. You blame Averi. But when you gon’ admit that you really blame yourself, baby?

” I didn’t say anything. “I know you,” she whispered.

“You’re carryin’ this. All of it. And I hate it for you, but you gotta stop.

You keep pushin’ people away like this, Royal…

one day, you not gon’ have nobody left.”

I turned away, jaw flexin’, eyes burnin’. “It is my fault.”

“Royal—”

“If I hadn’t been with Averi that night…” I started, voice cracking, “King would still be here. He wouldn’t have been alone. He wouldn’t have had to deal with that shit by himself.”

There was a brief silence, then a long exhale from her. “Stop it,” she said, firm. “Stop talkin’ like that.”

“Why, we both know that shit is true!”

“No it’s not Royal, stop saying it.”

I looked at her, tears I refused to shed swimmin’ in my eyes. “If I wasn’t laid up with her, maybe I’d?—”

“You’d be dead, Royal.” Her words punched me in the throat.

“I only buried one son because of her,” she whispered, voice tight with emotion.

“Don’t you get that? You were the bigger target.

The name. The face. The headline. You think they wasn’t gon’ come for you first?

” I sat down hard in the kitchen chair. Head in my hands.

Her words swirlin’ in my head. “She saved your life, just by bein’ there, And I thank God for her.

” I stayed quiet, hands gripping the sides of my head.

“She gave me one son back. Even if she didn’t know it. ”

I couldn’t take it as the tears finally released from my eyes.

“Why the fuck would she wanna save me now?” I muttered. “I pushed her away. Treated her like she was nothin’. Told her I ain’t want her.”

Queenie came closer and smacked the back of my head.

Not hard. Just enough. “You are stupid,” she said with a sigh, kneelin’ beside me.

“You love that girl.” I shook my head. She placed her hand on my cheek, gently.

“Royal... if you don’t think you love that girl, you’re an idiot. A mama always knows.”

“I don’t love her,” I whispered, but even I didn’t believe it.

“You bringing her to this house says otherwise,” she said, voice low and strong.

“I watched the way you looked at her. The way you made space for her. Hell, I saw you pick lavender nail polish off her damn fingers like it was nothin’.

The way you kept lookin’ to her to see if she thought something was funny.

The way you smiled brighter just from seein her smile; if that ain’t love what is it? ”

I huffed a broken laugh. “I don’t know.”

“You love that girl,” she repeated. I looked at her.

Really looked. She looked tired. Worn. But her eyes were still strong.

“I need you to straighten up, baby,” she said softly.

“I need you. Princess needs you. King would’ve never wanted this for you.

” She sat back on her heels, staring up at me.

“I’m tryin’ to move forward, Royal. And I need you to do the same. ”

I nodded once. Couldn’t promise her nothin’. Couldn’t make sense of half the shit goin’ on in my heart. But I heard her. And for the first time in weeks… I let the guilt slip just enough to feel the grief. Just enough to feel something other than anger.