Page 31

I MISS HER

I was moving like a ghost.

I kept my head down when I left the apartment. Now, I was popping pain meds, nursing my body back to something that could stand on its own again. The truth is, my body wasn’t the problem. My mind was.

Every time I blinked, I saw her. Yumila. Her face stayed in my head—flashes of her laughing, crying, and cussing me out. The way she said my name when she was mad. The way she whispered it when she was riding my dick.

Even when I was laid up in Storm’s spot, half-conscious, high as hell off the meds, I heard Yummi’s voice in my dreams. Come back safe, Lameek.

That’s what kept me breathing.

But being stuck in Storm’s apartment felt… off. Wrong. She was acting like I was hers—cooking for me when I asked for takeout and trying to fuck on me. I even heard her tell her friends I was her nigga... it was too much.

Storm thought she had me, but she was just a temporary stop.

I had bigger shit to handle. I packed my shit that night.

Stuffed a fat stack of cash into a duffle—paid her for every day she held me down.

I wasn’t going to leave her empty, but I wasn’t going to leave her confused either. I left her crib with no goodbye.

I walked in the snow until I found a low-key hotel. I kept the lights low and the curtains shut. I got food from the small store next door. I was living off noodles and chips like I was in jail. I started taking too many pills and got paranoid. I tossed my burner phone I had been holding on to.

No phone. No calls. Just me and my thoughts—and those thoughts stayed on Yummi. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. I tasted her. I heard her voice in my head telling me to come back safe.

But I wasn’t going to move recklessly for love. Now that I didn’t have my burner phone, Tory couldn’t contact me. Last time I spoke to him, it wasn’t even good news, so there was no reason for me to move to get a phone.

“Bro, not yet,” he’d say. “Hurricane’s hitters still out, and somebody told the police some shit, so they been walking around asking questions about you.

They’re lurking at every exit, waiting to catch you slippin’.

This shit hot right now. Once I get the muthafucka that’s talking to the police, you can come back. ”

My team was working, taking them down one by one, but that shit took time.

Southwave wasn’t easy to clean up. The streets don’t sleep.

Hurricane’s death didn’t clear the smoke.

His soldiers were loyal as hell, waiting to finish what he couldn’t.

Every day, I wondered what Coast really knew about this nigga when we were all running together.

I wasn’t going to die out here like no fool. I had too much to live for. So I stayed solo. Kept it quiet. Made a couple small plays through some niggas I’d met out there that was from Cali in a bar. I made strictly cash, no phones, and no heat. They came to my hotel for the work, and that was it.

Every night, I’d sit in that cold-ass hotel room, watching the snow fall outside, stacking my bread on the dresser. But in the back of my mind? It was always her.

Yumila.

I was coming back for her. But when I did? I was coming back, right .