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I looked down.

My right hand was fucked up.

Knuckles swollen. Skin split across two of them. Little dried blood still caught around one cut even though I’d washed my hands a few times since yesterday.

Xavier’s hard-ass fucking head.

I flexed my fingers.

“Hit it against something stupid.”

She frowned.

“Something?”

“Yeah.”

“Something with a face?”

I looked at her.

“Could’ve been.”

She laughed.

“You crazy.”

“Nah.”

I reached for my sweats.

My hand hurt like a bitch when I closed it.

Worth it though.

I could still see Xavier hitting that concrete at the construction site after the first punch. Confused as fuck. Looking up at me like he couldn’t understand why his big brother was beating his ass over some money.

And that was exactly what I wanted him to think.

Twenty thousand dollars.

Interest.

That was the explanation I gave him.

Let him think I was mad about bread.

Let him think every punch was because he owed me.

He ain’t know that while I was hitting him, all I could think about was seven fucking years.

Seven years sitting behind a wall while that nigga came to see me.

Seven years of phone calls.

Money on my books.

Xavier asking if I needed anything.