Page 11

“Ryan.”

And there was another fucking name that I knew nothing about. He was into so much stuff that I don’t see how he kept up with it all. All of this showed me that I really truly did not know my son.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” he reassured.

Something told me I absolutely did. The phone stopped vibrating, leaving the apartment quiet again. Giovanni walked over and stuffed it into the pocket of his sweats before returning to his bags. I watched him reach for the duffle, and that was when it became clear that the shooting wasn’t the only thing my son was running from. Whatever was waiting on the other end of that phone had him just as worried as what was playing on the news.

MALIAH

I stood outside my father’s hospital room for a few seconds before I could make myself walk inside. Mama had already warned me that seeing him was going to be hard. She told me about the machines, the tubes, and everything else I would see before I stepped through the door, but none of that prepared me for actually laying eyes on him. My daddy had always seemed larger than life to me. Even when I was grown enough to know better, some parts of me still believed Malik Browne was untouchable. He was the person everybody else called when something went wrong. The one who handled problems, protected his family, and somehow always knew what to do even when the rest of us didn’t. Seeing him lying completely still in a hospital bed didn’t look right.

I slowly walked farther into the room, barely noticing Mama get up from the chair beside his bed until she wrapped her arms around me. I rested my head against her for a moment and closed my eyes.

“He’s still sleeping,” she whispered. “The nurse said that’s normal.”

I nodded against her shoulder. Mama kissed the side of my head before pulling away.

“I’m going to give you a little time with him,” she added before breaking our embrace.

“You don’t have to leave,” I said as I looked at her.

“I know.”

She gave my hand a squeeze before walking toward the door. Once it closed behind her, the room became so quiet that every little sound seemed louder. The steady beeping from the monitor. The soft hiss of air. Even my own breathing. I walked over to the chair Mama had been sitting in and lowered myself into it.

For a while, I just looked at him. There were a million things I wanted to say, but none of them seemed right. Sorry felt too small, thank you didn’t even come close, and telling him I loved him seemed obvious because there had never been a day in my life when I doubted that he knew. My eyes eventually settled on his hand resting beside him. I reached for it and carefully slid mine underneath. His hand felt warm, and that nearly broke me. I lowered my head and stared at our hands together as everything from earlier came rushing back. I could still feel the steering wheel underneath my palms. I still heard the gunshot and still heard Daddy yelling at me to get down.

One second, I had been driving, and the next his body was covering mine. He hadn’t hesitated. He hadn’t tried to save himself first. My father heard bullets coming toward us, and his first instinct had been to use his own body as a shield to protect me. A tear landed on the back of his hand. I quickly wiped it away.

“You’re so crazy,” I whispered.

My lips trembled as I looked at him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Even saying it sounded stupid because I knew my father. There wasn’t a version of what happened where he would’ve done anything differently. If those bullets came through that car a hundred more times, Malik Browne would’ve covered me a hundred more times.

That thought made the pressure in my chest worse because they shouldn’t have hit him at all. I was the one driving. I was the reason we were at that complex. Daddy had only been there because he was adamant about seeing how Tahari lived. Now he was lying in a hospital bed after being shot three times, and the doctors were already talking about rehabilitation and teaching him how to walk again, all because of me. The door opened behind me. I wiped my face before turning around. Tahari stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was that he still hadn’t left to change clothes. I told him earlier that he could, but he insisted on not leaving my side. Daddy’s blood had dried into his shirt, leaving dark stains across the fabric. Seeing it made my stomach twist, but I tried not to stare.

His eyes moved from me to Daddy before settling back on me.

“You alright?”

I nodded even though we both knew I wasn’t. Tahari walked over and stood beside my chair. His hand settled against the back of my neck before he leaned down and kissed the top of my head. That was all it took. I released Daddy’s hand and wrapped my arms around Tahari’s waist.

He pulled me against him immediately. I buried my face against his stomach and let the tears come. I was tired of trying to hold them in. Tired of people asking if I was okay. Tired of thinking about bullets and blood and doctors and whether my father would ever walk the same again.

Tahari didn’t tell me everything was going to be okay, and I was grateful for that.

He just held me. His hand moved slowly over my back until I finally got myself together enough to pull away. I wiped underneath my eyes and looked up at him.

“Sit down,” I said softly.

He pulled the other chair closer and sat beside me. For a few minutes, neither of us said anything. Tahari stared at Daddy while I watched him. Something was different. I had noticed it before he left the waiting room with Uncle Sha, but there had been too much going on for me to think about it. Now that we were sitting alone, I could see the tension on his face.

“What did Uncle Sha want with you?” I asked.