Page 42

HEALING

Therapy had finally helped since I stepped down.

I found out I had postpartum depression and PTSD.

For the past month, it’d been the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

The new meds my doctor prescribed… they helped too, but they made my brain feel like it was moving in slow motion some days.

I felt like I was in a fog, floating through time without a real sense of direction.

But the grief?

It still haunted me.

It crept in when I was alone—when the house was quiet, when the baby was sleeping, when Mula was out handling business. That’s when the memories hit the hardest.

So, I tried not to be alone. I stayed glued to my son again, keeping him close like he was the only thing anchoring me to this life. Even today, I had him strapped in his car seat, riding with me while I ran errands, like I was scared to be in the house by myself.

I glanced in the rearview mirror, watching him kick his little legs and his tiny fists waving in the air.

“You good back there, little man?” I asked, softly.

He let out a little sound, half a coo, half a sigh, like he was tired of being in the car too.

When I placed my eyes back on the road, my phone rang, and it was a Colorado number.

I frowned, switching it to speaker as I kept my eyes on the road.

“Hello?”

“Yummi?” The voice was smooth, belonged to a female, and laced with attitude.

“Who’s this?”

“It’s Storm. I’m sure you don’t know me. I figured… since we shared the same man, we should talk, though.”

I almost laughed. “Girl, what? You talking about Hurricane? If so, I’m not talking about a dead man.”

Her soft, petty little laugh slid through the line like a knife.

“Nah, baby. I’m talking about Lameek.”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my voice steady.

“Oh... is that so?”

“Yeah. We had a little summer fling last year, and when he got shot, he stayed at my place in Colorado while he healed. I nursed him back to health and he let me suck his dick, knowing he was engaged to you. I’m the one who took care of him, not you.

Just thought you should know… in case you thought he was only yours at that time. ”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Okay? What else?”

“And since he wanna play with me, I slashed his tires, and I’ma fuck his opp.”

“Girl… unless you’re pregnant or still fucking him, I don’t care about your feelings. Don’t call my phone again.”

Before she could say anything else, I hung up.

I took a deep breath, adjusted the radio, and refused to let her energy stick to me.

“Gotta remind your daddy to check his hoes,” I muttered, glancing at my son in the mirror as he drifted off to sleep.

By the time I pulled into the Beverly Center, I was calm again. I parked, grabbed the stroller out of the trunk, and clipped Coast into it. His little eyes blinked open, and I handed him a pacifier before rolling us into the mall like I wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on my back.

I hit Gucci first, grabbing a new dress for myself and a couple of things for the baby; felt good to flex a little. My phone buzzed again while I was at the register, and it was Mula.

I answered, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I tapped my card.

“What’s up?”

I heard the background noise—the hum of waves, the echo of voices, laughter, and trap music. I knew that sound. He was posted up in the Southshore Terrace.

“You good?” he asked, voice low and steady.

“I’m good. Just left Gucci.”

“Oh, so you’re spending my money now, huh?” he teased.

“Your money? Please.” I smiled, shifting Coast’s pacifier back into his mouth.

I added, casually, “By the way… one of your Colorado bitches called me. Storm? You might wanna tell her to find a new hobby before I have to step outta retirement.”

He laughed; a smooth, dark sound that made me bite my lip.

“Storm? Man, that was before us. That bitch is crazy, though, so if she step to you, shoot that bitch.”

I raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see me. “Mmmhmm, she said she slashed your tires. You ain’t tell me that, but I’ma let you live.”

“You good, mama?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I’m good. We’re heading home after this. The baby needs a nap, and I’m tryna get back to my sketches.”

“I’m tryna take you out tonight. My aunt just opened up a seafood spot on the upscale side of Sable Cove. It’s beachfront, real exclusive. No Southwave shit, just upscale vibes. Just us taking over the rest of the summer.”

A slow grin spread across my face.

“Oh, okay. So you tryna show out, huh?”

He laughed, low and smooth. “You know how I do.”

I ended the call, feeling light for the first time in a minute. I bought a new dress for the date, something soft but bad, and a few more things for the baby.

By the time I left the mall, the sun was starting to dip, and LA traffic was thick. I hit the freeway, creeping back to Prince Valley while Coast slept in the back with the city lights blurring into the night.

A few hours later, I handed the baby off to Solace, thankful for her pulling up last minute to babysit. A black Rolls Royce pulled up in front of the house. The driver stepped out, opening the door like it was a movie.

I stepped in, and the leather was soft, the air cold, and the bass low.

Two hours to Sable Cove, but I was good.

I felt like a boss again.

Like Yummi was back.

For real this time.