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“No.”

His eyebrows pulled together.

“You’ll text me about the kids.”

“Sam—”

“You will not come here unannounced again.”

“This my⁠—”

“Finish that sentence.”

He stopped.

“If you show up here drunk again, banging on my door, waking my children up and putting your hands on me, I’m calling the police.”

“I ain’t put my hands on you like that.”

I laughed once.

“There is no like that.”

“I grabbed your wrist.”

“Exactly.”

He stared at me.

I stepped closer to the open doorway.

“You’re not gonna turn into one of those niggas with me.”

His face changed.

“I would never hit you.”

“Then make sure I never have to wonder.”

Silence.

“Get out.”

This time he left, I heard his footsteps recede downstairs.

I shut the door.

Locked it.

Deadbolt.

Chain.

Then stood there listening until I heard the downstairs door close.

I stayed standing for a second.

Then looked down at my wrist.