Page 1

Chapter

One

Iswear the best part of any morning is a hot shower. My day can’t officially start until I smell my coconut and cocoa butter body wash and feel hot water cascading down my back. And this morning, I really need it. Langston, my boyfriend of two and a half years, got on my nerves last night until I closed my eyes. I swear he goes out of his way to piss me off. Last night, we argued over cookies, fucking Oreos.

After any long and emotional shift at the dispatch center, all I want is my comfort food—a minimum of six lemon Oreos and a glass of ice-cold almond milk—and silence. That’s it, but no, he ruined it. The bastard ate my Oreos with no remorse. The pantry is filled with those crunchy chocolate cookies he likes but he chose to eat the last of my Oreos. By the time I ordered some on the Munchies app, my last nerve had been trampled on and I blew up. We argued and I went to bed stressed out with an empty belly.

My shower this morning is much needed to say the least. If I didn’t have to take my nana to the nail shop for her monthly manicure before I start my shift today, I would remove this shower cap and let the water course through my 3C hair and really relax.

“Can I join you?” Langston’s tenor says at the same time I feel a cool breeze hit my body. He opens the shower door and steps in. However, I stop him. As much as I’m enjoying my shower, I don’t want to shower with him.

After cutting the water off, I say, “Sorry. I’m done.” I step forward and he backs up. When I grab my robe from the hook outside of my shower, he touches my arm.

“E, I said I’m sorry,” he says.

“And I told you that changes nothing,” I snap before slipping on my robe. “I lost a caller yesterday and I needed my Oreos. You never eat them,” I tell him, getting angry all over again. “My job is hard, very hard, but I love it. Nine calls out of ten are me helping someone, but when I have that heartbreaking one, all I want are my cookies and silence. You took both of those from me last night. So, please, keep your apology.”

“I love you, baby. Just say you love me too,” he has the nerve to say.

“I can’t because I haven’t in a long ass time and you know that. And right now, I don’t even like you,” I admit easily. “Take your shower. I need to get dressed to get Nana.”

He grabs my hand then says, “But you’re not going to leave me though, right?”

Yes! I’m leaving.

We’re not working anymore.

There’s no need for me to be here.

Sirens go off in my head and my internal thoughts scream for me to leave, but as always, my words betray my thoughts. As much as I know what Langston and I have needs to come to an end, for some reason, I can’t ever say the words or bring myself to leave. I feel stuck…trapped…and I can’t wrap my head around any logical reason why.

I’m so much better than this shit.

“No, I’m not leaving,” falls off my lips as I walk out of the bathroom, shaking my damn head.

Ugh! What’s wrong with me?

Because I’m going to work right after my nana’s appointment, I dress in code, business casual. I throw on dark denim jeans, a black, department-issued Hollow Grove Emergency Dispatch Center polo, and kicks. When I return to the bathroom to moisturize my hair and apply my makeup, Langston is still in the shower.

“I’m leaving,” I tell him once I’m looking better than I feel. “Don’t wait up. I’m probably going to dinner with Shae,” I say, referring to my cousin and best friend.

I really don’t feel like arguing again tonight, plus Shae likes lemon Oreos as much as I do. Hopefully, he’ll be asleep when I return.

“Baby,” he pleads.

“Langston, I’ll see you later,” I say more sternly then rush out of the bathroom. I may not be able to leave him but I can definitely avoid his ass when needed.

Before walking out of our condo, I grab my keys and mini tote, leaving my lunch kit behind. I’ll grab something for lunch on my way in.

The moment I’m in my Jeep, I dial my grandparents’ number. They are the only people in the world who still have a landline and the same number. I’m twenty-eight and for my entire existence their number has been 107-688-2713.

“You on your way, Peanut?” she answers, calling me by the nickname she gave me in honor of the peanut-shaped birthmark behind my left knee.

“I’m in my ride now. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Oh good. You know I hate to be late and we might need to get gas. Your papa never keeps gas in that car.”

“It’s gas in there, honey,” I hear Papa yell.