Page 13 of What the Leos Burned (BLP Signs of Love #6)

Back To Where It Broke

The car ride was quiet at first. Not tense, just a little heavy. Love kept her eyes on the road, fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel. The city slowly came to life around them as they left the neighborhood and drove into the city toward her daughter’s school.

Yana was curled into the passenger seat with her legs tucked beneath her. She kept fidgeting with the drawstrings of her hoodie, tugging and pulling, then twisted them into knots that would only unravel moments later.

As they turned onto the last street before the school, Love caught the way Yana shifted in her seat.

She stiffened her posture and bounced her knee up and down.

Her gaze dropped to her lap like she wished she could shrink herself out of sight, and her shoulders were slightly hunched like she was bracing for something.

Love recognized it instantly. Hell, she’d done it herself more times than she could count.

It was that silent, emotional prep of armor a woman put on before walking back into a place where her heart cracked.

“Do y’all have the first class of the day together?” Love asked.

Yana hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Him and his crew think they so funny. They be laughing real loud and acting like they the main characters or something.”

The corners of Love’s mouth turned up a little. “Typical.”

Yana finally cracked a small smile. “I know, right? Like, boy, nobody cares that you made varsity.”

They both laughed, and the tension eased for a moment, but when the school came into view, Yana’s shoulders rose again.

Love glanced over, then reached out and tapped her knee gently. “Listen,” she said, voice low and steady, “you go in there, hold your head high, and don’t let him see you sweat. Strut in there like the girl I raised you to be, even if you shaking on the inside.”

Yana looked at her and nodded. “Okay.”

Love smiled. “Shoulders back. Chin up. Show him you know who the hell you are. You are Yana Melendez! The prettiest, smartest, and brightest girl in all the school. He’s a fool to not make it work out with you. He’s gonna regret it one day soon, just watch.”

They pulled into the school, and Yana smirked and started gathering her things. “You always got a speech ready, huh?”

“Only when it counts,” Love said. She pulled up to the front curb of the school and put the car in park.

Yana opened the door, paused with her hand on the door handle, and looked at her again.

“Can I ask you something?”

Love’s grip on the steering wheel loosened. “Of course.”

“Are you and Dad . . .” She hesitated for a moment. Her eyes flickered toward the school entrance, then back at her mom. “Are y’all getting back together?”

The question didn’t surprise Love, but she wasn’t prepared to answer it in this moment.

“No.” She answered slow and honestly. “We’re not.”

Yana’s mouth twitched, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Then she mumbled, “I figured. I know about the baby.”

This caught Love off guard. “How?”

“I heard you and Auntie Quiyanna talking. I saw a weird text on Dad’s phone one time at dinner. I just . . . put two and two together.”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.” Love swallowed hard, and shame prickled at the back of her neck.

“It’s okay,” Yana said quickly. “I mean, of course it’s not okay , but . . . I get it. I just want you to be good. I don’t need y’all to stay together just to say you did. I think you’re strong for leaving.”

With that, she pushed the door open. She placed one foot on the pavement, then turned to her mother and continued.

“But I also think you should take your own advice sometimes,” Yana added, looking over her shoulder. “You said walk in there like the girl you are, even if you’re shaking. That’s what I see when I look at you.”

Love let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her daughter’s confirmation of her strength gave her something she hadn’t realized she needed.

“Thank you,” she said, holding back a tear.

Yana smiled then stepped out. She paused before closing the door.

“I love you, Ma.”

“I love you more,” Love said and blinked the tears away.

Love sat there for a moment and watched Yana disappear into the school building. She reflected on her daughter’s silent strength, her own heartbreak, and the day still ahead of her. Then, she put the car in drive and pulled off toward the studio.

Today, she had a film to make and a man who’d once walked out of her life to face.

“Alright y’all,” Malcolm shouted, voice projecting as he clapped his hands together in the middle of the studio. “Listen up. We’re doing something a little different today.”

Everyone quieted down and shifted their eyes from wardrobe racks and makeup touch-ups to their executive producer.

“My goal is to make this movie feel as real as possible. We need the audience to capture the emotion as if they are living in it. So, I booked a short trip for us. We’re flying to Detroit, specifically to visit the Aretha Franklin Amphitheatre.”

A few murmurs of excitement rippled through the room.

“It’s where one of the most pivotal scenes in the book takes place,” Malcolm continued. “And I want y’all to feel it. Smell it. Stand in the same spots. Let it sink into your bones before we shoot.”

Love blinked. “Wait, you mean today?”

“Yeah. Flight’s in two hours. Just a quick there-and-back. One hour there, hour and a half tops.” He scanned the room. “Everybody cool?”

The cast nodded, most were hyped up. A few actors fist-bumped.

Tara shot Love a knowing glance. Love maintained a straight face, but on the inside, her stomach bubbled with anticipation and anxiety.

Going back to a place where she once felt joy and teenage love was one thing, but doing it with the estranged ex-lover you once knew and cherished was another.

Zay shifted behind the sound tech table and rubbed the back of his neck.

“We gotta go all the way to Detroit for that?” he asked out loud, more to himself than to Malcolm.

“It’s part of the process,” Malcolm answered regardless, eyeing him. “You ain’t scared of a little homecoming, are you?”

Love glanced at Zay, also anticipating his answer. He smirked, but she caught some tension behind it. “Nah, just ain’t been back in a while is all.”

Love didn’t say anything. She looked down at her hands and fiddled with her fingernails. Malcolm glanced between the two of them, then chuckled.

“You two the only ones acting like it’s a funeral.”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Love replied, her head still down.

Malcolm held up both hands. “Okay, okay. It’s just one stop. Y’all’ll be back before dinner. I promise.”

Love slipped on her denim jacket and gathered the scripts from the table in front of her and slipped them in her tote.

She handed the tote to Tara, placed sunglasses on her face, and followed the rest of the cast out of the room.

Zay stood from his seat, eyeing Love as she walked out the door, and trailed behind the rest of the cast.

The crew walked out of the studio into the mid-morning sun while conversations and last-minute phone calls filled the air.

Two black sprinter vans lined the curb with the engines running.

They all piled in—Love in the first van and Zay in the second —and settled into their seats.

Laughter bounced between them from the moment they pulled away from the curb, until they arrived at the private terminal of the airport.

The private jet hummed low as it sat awaiting their arrival.

The entire cast and crew boarded. When Love stepped in, she was instantly taken aback by the luxury and beauty of it all.

Inside was polished and sleek, neutral tones that whispered quiet wealth.

Gold accented trays folded down, and it smelled like Jo Malone poured through the air vents.

The leather seats had champagne flutes in every cup holder.

Deuce playfully pushed his way to the back row, joking the whole way like it was his stand-up hour.

“I ain’t gon’ lie,” he said, leaning into his phone like he was livestreaming. “This jet smell like light-skinned privilege.”

Laughter erupted.

Deuce grinned and buckled himself into the seat. “Yo, I’m serious. It smell like the lobby of a divorce lawyer who only represents NBA stars. I’m scared to touch anything. If I breathe wrong, this seat might charge me.”

“Boy, shut up!” One of the stylists hollered and threw a napkin at him.

Deuce caught it midair and pretended to wipe fake tears.

Zay slid into a window seat in front of Deuce, and Kam plopped down beside him. Deuce continued to joke with the crew, but the sounds were muffled as Zay’s thoughts took over his mind.

“You good?” Kam asked, voice low.

Zay nodded. “Yeah. Just . . . I ain’t been back to the D in a minute.”

Kam smirked and pulled a protein bar out of his hoodie. “That, or you worried about running into old ghosts?”

He didn’t answer.

“I mean, it’s been what? Over a decade?” Kam went on, pausing between bites. “Besides, the only ghost from Detroit you worried about is already sitting on this plane.”

“Man, shut up,” Zay muttered. He sat stiff.

Kam caught his body language, smirked and then nudged him. “You still ain’t read the book, huh?”

“Nah,” he replied, puzzled. “Was gonna get around to it. Why?”

“Because everybody say it read like an autobiography. Real specific. Like it’s about somebody she used to love.”

Zay’s jaw tightened. “I ain’t pressed.”

“Right,” Kam said, leaning back. “That’s why you been checking for her every five minutes since we walked in.”

Across the aisle, Love sat with her head on the window next to Tara, who was texting with one hand and sipping a green juice with the other.

“You okay?” Tara asked, never taking her eyes off her phone.

“I’m fine,” Love said too fast.

“You sure? ’Cause your fine sound real ‘he’s here again and I don’t know how to breathe.’”

Love scoffed. “Can we not?”

Tara grinned. “Just sayin’.”