Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Fumi
Ilie here, listening to Hood’s heartbeat: slow, steady, and peaceful. It’s funny—I used to think silence between two people meant something was wrong. Tonight, it feels like I’m supposed to be home with Hood. Neither of us rushes to speak; we’re just soaking up the moment.
There wasn’t anything left to prove. We want each other. Hood rubbed slow circles into my back. Some things never changed.
“Hood?”
“Hmm?”
“I owe you an apology.”
He looked down at me. “For what?”
“I stopped believing in you.”
Before I could finish, he shook his head. “You don’t owe me that.”
“I do.”
“No.” He smiled softly. “You believed in a nigga longer than I believed in myself.”
Now that hits different. I always wanted to live long enough to see Hood do it big outside the streets.
“I got tired, Hood. I couldn’t keep waiting and hoping.”
“I know.”
A tear slid across my cheek. “I was angry.”
“You had every right to be.”
“I hated you. I loved you too much to stay.” His arms tightened around me.
“I know.”
Damn... He wasn’t arguing with me or defending himself. He was accepting everything I’d carried all these years.
“I never stopped loving you.”
The words slipped out before I could catch them.
“I know.”
I looked up. “You knew?”
He grinned. “I was hoping.”
I laughed through my tears. “You’re so damn aggravating.”
“I missed hearing you say that shit.” I playfully smacked his chest. “Here you go. I’m trying to be serious.”
“Here who goes?”
“You, the real Hood.”
He laughed. “I been here.”
“I know. I just...I looked around the room and didn’t recognize you.”
He nodded. “I had to become somebody you could.”
Silence, but very comfortable.
“Hood?”
“Yeah?”
“I got another question.”
“Damn, you’re asking a lot of questions tonight.”
“I am.”
He grinned. “It’s cool. I’ll answer every one of ‘em.”
I traced the tattoos across his chest. “When you bought this house...did you think I’d ever see it?”
Hood took his time answering. “Shit, I told you earlier a nigga had hope.”
“Umm, that’s different.”
“It is… I stopped expecting and started preparing.” My heart ached.
“I told myself... whether you came back or not... I wasn’t going to keep living like I was waiting for life to start.
So I bought the house. Shit, I made a few investments.
I’ve been building a new life with concrete bricks instead of all-white bricks.
I prayed for help to keep my mind off you.
I prayed... if...” He looked down at me.
“...one day you decided to come home... I wanted to have one already.”
The tears I’d been holding back finally won. I buried my face against his chest, shaking as I cried.
“Don’t cry, Fumi.”
“I’m trying not to, but you know what’s crazy?”
“What?”
“I walked in here tonight... thinking I was looking for you.”
He smiled. “You did.”
I shook my head. “No. I think... I came looking for us.”
Hood closed his eyes. His chin rested lightly against the top of my head. “I never stopped looking for us.”
I wrapped my arms around Hood a little tighter. “I know.”
Outside, this crazy world kept spinning, but somewhere in the distance... my stubborn heart finally stopped running long enough... to realize... love had never needed to be perfect. Only brave enough... to come back.
The smell of bacon woke me before the sunlight did. I frowned. What the fuck... I slowly opened my eyes, taking in the vaulted white ceiling and the fresh, gray-painted walls. The ceiling fan was spinning on low. Damn... I slept well. Then I sat straight up, yawned, and stretched.
“Hood… Hood…”
A smile crept across my face before I could stop it. I looked beside me. The bed was empty. His side... already made.
I laughed. “This nigga...”
I climbed out of bed, stretched, and looked around the room once more. I still couldn’t believe this was Hood’s house. When we lived together, we had an apartment first, and then he upgraded us to a condo. I’m proud of him for no longer staying at his momma’s and for having his own house.
I slipped my feet into the house shoes he’d left beside the bed sometime during the night.
“He planned this?”
I laughed to myself. As I walked downstairs, the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee only grew stronger. I rounded the corner. Hood stood at the stove, wearing gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, his back turned. Music played low through a speaker on the counter. He didn’t even turn around.
“You finally woke up.”
I froze. “You knew I was standing here?”
“I heard your ass laughing upstairs.”
“So, you ain’t gonna speak?”
“I just did. Good morning.”
I walked into the kitchen, shaking my head. “Good morning. It’s too early for you to be irritating.”
“I missed hearing that shit too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Here you go.”
“Here you go?”
“The real Hood.” He laughed. Without looking at me, he slid a plate across the island.
“Sit down.”
“What if I don’t want breakfast?”
He finally turned around. “You’re lying.”
“I might be.”
“I know yo ass hungry.”
“I am.”
“Exactly.”
I climbed onto one of the barstools. Damn, this kitchen was nice. Really nice. I could see myself cooking and recording content here. I looked around as Hood finished scrambling the eggs.
“You’ve really been living like this?”
“For about two weeks.”
“You still ain’t unpacked them boxes.”
“I know.”
“So... What are you waiting on?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I grinned to myself.
Liar.
He was waiting for someone. I wasn’t going to say it. He set a plate in front of me—scrambled eggs, maple turkey bacon, grits, toast, and coffee. I could get used to this.
I looked up. “You really cooked.”
“Aye, a nigga told you he could.”
“I thought you were lying.”
“I’m cool on lies.”
“I see.”
I laughed so hard I almost dropped my fork. The first bite stopped me cold. I looked back at him.
“...Damn.”
“What?”
“This is actually good.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I know.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
We enjoyed a quiet breakfast together, exchanging occasional glances, neither of us breaking eye contact.
“So...” Hood broke the silence. “What? You still think I can’t cook?”
I pointed my fork at him. “You got lucky.”
“A nigga got seasoned.”
“I’ll give you that.”
He smiled. “I’ll take it.”
After breakfast, I carried my plate toward the sink.
“You can leave it.”
“I know.”
“But I’m not.”
He watched me rinse my dish, wipe the counter, and straighten one of his kitchen towels.
I looked over my shoulder. “What?”
“You’re already making yourself at home.”
“I’m just cleaning up.”
“You folded the fucking towel.”
“It was crooked.”
He laughed. “You’re lying like a motherfucka.”
“I’ve been told.”
I walked toward the living room and stopped at the large window overlooking the backyard. The morning sun stretched across the grass, and the scene was peaceful. Really peaceful.
“Hood?”
“Hmm?”
“I like it here.”
He looked at me instead of the backyard. “I’m glad.”
I turned around. “No... I mean... I like...” I looked around the house. “...this version of your life.”
His expression softened. “I do too.”
For the first time since Hood came home, I wasn’t wondering if he’d changed. I was standing inside the proof.