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He stopped, and I didn’t ask him to finish. I moved closer until our shoulders touched and rested my head against him. He squeezed my hand. I had imagined meeting his family before. Not seriously, but enough to wonder what his mother was like in person or whether his father would be one of those dads who stared at you until you got uncomfortable. I’d wondered if his sisters would like me and whether walking into the Browne house as MJ’s girlfriend would feel awkward.

I never imagined the first time I came here would be because somebody tried to kill his father.

“You don’t have to talk about anything else tonight,” I told him.

MJ looked down at me.

“I mean it. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you don’t, we can sit right here,” I said just above a whisper.

His thumb moved across the back of my hand.

“And if you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

To be honest, I was a little sleepy from driving over, but if he needed some space, I would splash my face with some water and take the drive back. His eyes held mine for a few seconds.

“Stay.”

There was no hesitation in his words.

“Okay,” I nodded.

That seemed to be all he needed. MJ leaned back against the couch, and I settled beside him. After a while, he shifted lower until his head rested against me, one arm stretched across my lap while I ran my fingers slowly over his low haircut. Neither of us talked. The television wasn’t on. There was no music playing. It was just the quiet hum of the house around us, and MJ’s breathing gradually became slower as some of the tension finally left his body. I looked down at him, and his eyes were closed.

I wasn’t sure if he was asleep yet, and I didn’t ask. Instead, I kept running my fingers gently over his head. For an entire day, I had wanted nothing more than for MJ to answer me. Now I understood why he hadn’t. And more importantly, I understood what he’d meant when he finally did. I need you. He hadn’t needed me to fix anything. He just hadn’t wanted to be alone. He just wanted me near him, and here I was.

TRIGGA

The sun was starting to come up by the time I stepped outside. I hadn’t slept. After leaving Ms. Gia’s, I went straight back to the hospital. By then, Mr. Browne had already been moved into a private suite, and Mali was still there even though she looked like she could barely keep her eyes open. I eventually convinced her to leave with me, but only after promising I’d take her right back when she woke up. She hadn’t said much during the ride. Neither had I.

By the time we got back to my apartment, she had enough energy to shower before climbing into my bed and falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. I wished I could’ve done the same. Instead, I stood outside with my hands shoved into the pockets of my hoodie, staring at the aftermath of yesterday. Daylight made everything look worse. The parking lot had mostly returned to normal, but there wasn’t anything normal about seeing the damage left behind. Pieces of shattered glass still glittered in spots against the pavement despite somebody having cleaned most of it up. Bullet holes marked places where they had no business being, and the sight of them made my jaw tighten.

I looked toward the area where the car had been. That shit was going to stay with me for a long time. I walked farther into the parking lot and rubbed a hand over my face. I was tired enough that my eyes burned, but every time I tried to close them, my mind found something else to keep me awake. All my problems had been connected, and I had been stupid to think I could keep one problem from eventually running into the other. Ghost was my biggest problem, but now the FBI had entered the chat, and I didn’t know how to feel about that. Before yesterday, I would’ve trusted Ghost to take whatever came with that shit before he dragged anybody else into it. Today? I didn’t know what the fuck that nigga was capable of anymore.

I had spent years believing there wasn’t much Ghost could do that would make me completely turn my back on him. We’d been through too much together. Done too much together. Even when we fell out, there was always some part of me that believed eventually we’d figure that shit out. Then he came to my home and shot into a car with Mali inside. Everything after that was different. If Ghost could do that because he was angry at me for choosing her, I couldn’t keep telling myself there were lines he wouldn’t cross. Especially with federal time hanging over his head. My stomach tightened. There was one move Ghost could make that would solve part of his problem.

All he had to do was give Ryan something bigger. Give him Mr. Browne. Ghost had brought that shit up before. He knew telling Ryan where the bricks really came from could take some of the heat off him, but doing that meant bringing MB’s Auto and Mr. Browne directly into a federal investigation. At the time when he brought it up, Ghost hadn’t wanted to do it, and back then, I had believed him. Standing here now, looking at bullet holes left behind because my brother had tried to kill the woman I loved, I wasn’t willing to bet Mr. Browne’s freedom on what Ghost had been unwilling to do before. Too much had changed. I needed to tell Mr. Browne all of it. Not just that I thought Ghost was responsible for the shooting. I had to let him know about Ryan too.

He deserved to know there was another problem coming his way, especially now that Ghost was missing and desperate. The door to the apartment building opened behind me. I turned and saw Mali stepping outside. She had changed into one of my T-shirts before she went to sleep, and it hung low on her thighs. She also had on a pair of my pajama pants and a pair of my Nike slides. The slippers swallowed her size six feet. Her hair was pulled back messily, and sleep still sat heavy in her face as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“What are you doing out here?”

She must have looked out the window before coming down and seen me out here.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted.

She looked at the brightening sky before bringing her eyes back to me.

“You didn’t even try.”

I didn’t answer because she was right. She walked toward me, but the farther she came into the parking lot, the slower her steps became. I knew the exact moment she started seeing what I had been looking at. Her eyes dropped toward the pavement, then moved across the damage. Yesterday came back across her face without her having to say a word. I walked over to her.

“Mali?”

“I haven’t really looked at it.”

Her voice was quiet. When we got in a couple of hours ago, she was so damn sleepy that she probably didn’t even pay outside any mind. Plus, it was still dark outside then.

I stood beside her as she stared toward where everything had happened. For a while, neither of us spoke. Then she looked at me.