Sianni McWashington-Maddox
“Breaking news—Florida Vipers star wide receiver Kyrie Maddox was shot at his home earlier tonight. Authorities have confirmed he sustained a gunshot wound to the arm and is currently receiving medical attention.
“Sources close to the situation say the shooting may have involved someone known to Maddox, though details are still limited at this time.
“We’ll continue to follow this developing story and bring you updates as more information becomes available.”
The words kept echoing through the room, loud as hell, but somehow still not loud enough to drown out the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
My fingers tightened around my phone, grip trembling just a little as I stared at the screen. I blinked once, then twice, like maybe the shit would change if I looked at it long enough.
It didn’t.
A shaky breath slipped past my lips, my chest rising and falling a little too fast as I fought hard as hell to keep it together. Tears burned behind my eyes, threatening, pressing, ready to fall, but I refused to let them.
He got shot, but he was not dead. They ain’t say he was dead. It was just his arm.
Just his arm… I kept repeating that shit in my head like it was supposed to calm me down, like it was supposed to make this feel any less real.
It didn’t.
My jaw tightened, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I shook my head, pacing once, then twice, as if I could walk this feeling off.
I wasn’t even in love with him. That’s what I told myself. But my chest wasn’t getting the memo. Because the thought of something happening to Kyrie? That shit twisted something deep inside me, something I didn’t even wanna name.
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling slowly, but it still came out uneven.
“Damn…” I muttered under my breath, voice low, almost cracking before I caught it.
We weren’t even like that. Not for real. But being around him? The way he carried himself, the way he looked at me like I already belonged to him, and the way he kept pushing past every wall I tried to throw up.
Yeah, I felt that. More than I wanted to. No matter how hard I tried to fight him and this, I wanted him.
And that realization hit me harder than anything else.
I looked down at the rock on my finger, twisting the band round and round until the metal bit into my skin. This whole “wife” thing was still hitting me in waves, but looking at the hospital tiles, I knew the shit was officially real.
I was stuck in that waiting room limbo, staring at the double doors and praying for a doctor to appear. My phone vibrated against my palm, the screen lighting up with Drayla’s name. I swiped the bar and pressed it to my ear before the first ring even finished.
“Sianni, girl, I just saw the news,” Drayla’s voice came through, thick with panic. “Are you okay? Is Kyrie okay?”
“I’m holding it together. Just waiting for them to come out and tell me something.” I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes.
“Okay, well, I’m on my way up there. I’m bringing you some clean clothes.”
“Aight.”
I hung up, staring at my lap. I appreciated her coming through, but my mind was spinning like fucking crazy. Ten minutes later, the double doors swung open, and Drayla marched in with a bag of clothes in one hand and two steaming coffees in the other.
“Here you go, boo,” she said, offering a small, sympathetic smile as she slid a cup my way.
“Thank you.” I took a sip, the heat hitting the back of my throat, but I couldn’t sit still. I stood, gesturing to the bag. “Let me go change. I’ll be right back.”
I retreated to the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror.
I looked a mess. Kyrie’s blood was dried dark on my clothes.
There was so much of it that you’d think he’d been hit in the chest instead of his arm.
I stripped out of the stained fabric, feeling a weight lift as I pulled on the fresh clothes.
When I walked back out, Drayla was already waiting.
“Feeling better?” She handed my coffee back to me.
“Yeah, a little.” I sank into the plastic chair beside her.
She nodded, her eyes searching mine. “So… did you see who did it?”
“Nawl. By the time I got there, it was just Kyrie.”
The lie felt heavy on my tongue. A part of me wanted to spill everything to her, but I knew Kyrie. If my husband wanted the streets to stay out of the business, I had to play my part. I wasn’t about to go against his word.
“Hmm. That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, real crazy. I just hope whoever did it catches what’s coming to them.”
I started to say more, but two shadows fell over us. I looked up to see two tall, Black men in slacks looking way too official for a hospital waiting room.
“Mrs. Maddox?” The one with the dreads asked. He had a professional-ass smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“That’s me. And you are?” I kept my voice steady, though my heart started a slow drum against my ribs.
“Detective White,” the other one said, the one with the clean fade. He was nice-looking, but he had that “cop” energy you could feel from a mile away. He held out his hand.
I reached out and gave him a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Same here,” I replied.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about the shooting.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” I folded my arms, trying to look like a grieving wife, not a woman holding back a secret.
The dreadlock detective pulled out a notepad. “Where were you when the incident happened?”
“I was out with her.” I pointed over to Drayla. “We’d been out for a minute, just trying to get out of the house.”
“Okay. And do you know who did this? Was anyone there when you arrived?”
“Kyrie mentioned a name, but I couldn’t quite make it out,” I lied, my voice smooth as silk. “He was losing a lot of blood.”
White leaned in. “Do you know someone named Jamal?”
“Yeah, he’s on the team.”
“Do you know if he and Kyrie have any issues?”
I shook my head, keeping my face blank. “No. Is there a reason you’re asking me all this?”
Before he could dig deeper, the doctor emerged from the back, clipboard in hand. I felt my heart drop straight into my stomach. I stood up so fast, my coffee almost tipped.
“Mrs. Maddox?” the doctor asked, stopping in front of us.
“Yes, I’m here.” I held my breath, praying he wasn’t about to break me.
“The surgery went very well. Kyrie’s arm will be in a sling for a while, but he’s stable.” He checked his notes. “We’re keeping him overnight for monitoring.”
“Monitoring, why?”
“Just hospital protocol, nothing to worry about. We’ll have him out of here in a day or two.”
The air finally rushed back into my lungs. “Can I stay with him?”
“Of course.” He gave me a genuine smile this time and walked off.
I took a deep breath, finally feeling the tension leave my shoulders. He was okay. My man was actually okay.
“Alright, Mrs. Maddox,” the detective with the faded smile said, breaking my relief. He handed me a business card. “We’re gonna let you go be with your husband. But if you remember that name he mentioned, don’t be scared to call.”
“Thanks.” I took the card and tucked it deep into my purse without looking at it.
As soon as they cleared out, Drayla leaned in, her eyebrow arched halfway to her hairline. “You don’t think Jamal really did that, do you?”
“Girl, I don’t know.” I shrugged, keeping it low. “But Kyrie did tell me they got into it at practice.”
“Well, that ain’t shocking,” Drayla said, shaking her head. “Them niggas get into it all the time. Put ’em all on one field, and that ego starts doing the most.”
“I see that now.”
“Anyway, I’ma head out and let you be with your man. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I stood and pulled her into a tight hug.
She’d come through when I needed her, but now, I just need to see Kyrie. We went our separate ways, and I headed toward his room. Ready to see my husband.