Sianni McWashington-Maddox
The room was quiet, and the only sound was the hum of the machines and the soft rise and fall of Kyrie’s chest. The sound was the only thing keeping me grounded.
My phone buzzed in my hand, the vibration cutting straight through the silence. My eyes dropped to the screen, and my stomach tightened instantly.
It was Lex, and I stared at her name.
We hadn’t talked in a minute, and honestly, I was cool with that. Every time she called, it was the same shit. Her trying to push me back toward her brother, like I ain’t already decided.
Like I ain’t already seen enough, finding out he got another bitch pregnant. Yeah, that did it for me. I swallowed hard, my jaw tightening as the memories tried to creep in. I gave that man pieces of me I couldn’t get back. My time. My energy and my loyalty. All for him to play in my face.
He used to complain about us not having sex but never stopped to think that maybe I was exhausted. I was out here working, pulling long hours, stressing over bills, and making sure we had somewhere to live and something to eat. I was holding us down.
Meanwhile, he was building a whole new life behind my back.
I let out a slow breath and finally answered the phone. I kept it short with her. She asked how I was doing, if I was okay, and all that shit.
As soon as the call ended, I tossed my phone aside and grabbed the thin hospital blanket, shaking it out before curling up on the small couch beside Kyrie’s bed. My eyes flicked toward the door.
Security was posted up heavy outside. You’d think the president was in here the way Kyrie’s agent had it set up. But after tonight, I understood.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin, my gaze drifting back to him. The ring on my finger caught the light, and for a moment, I stared at it. My life had changed overnight.
My past was messy as hell, but this was different. I wasn’t dealing with any more half-ass love. No more broken promises, and no more settling.
I said a quick prayer under my breath, then finally closed my eyes. And somewhere between the silence and exhaustion, I drifted off.
? ?
“…Sianni…”
My eyes snapped open, and for a second, I didn’t even know where I was. My heart was already racing, and my body was going on high alert before my mind could catch up.
“Sianni.” I heard the voice again.
I turned my head fast and pushed myself up on the couch. Kyrie’s eyes were barely open. They were heavy, as if he were fighting to stay awake, but they were on me.
“You good?” His voice came out rough, low, and strained.
Relief hit me so hard, it damn near knocked the breath out of me. I rushed to my feet, moving straight to his side. “Kyrie, oh my goodness.”
I hovered over him, my hand coming up before I even thought about it, brushing lightly against his arm.
“You had me scared,” I whispered, my voice cracking just a little.
His eyes stayed on me, slow and focused, as he heard more in that than what I actually said.
“I’m aight,” he muttered.
But the way he was looking at me didn’t match what he was saying.
I exhaled, shaking my head. “No, you not. You just woke up in a hospital bed after—” I cut myself off, swallowing the rest down. I wasn’t about to stress him out the second he came back to me.
“Sianni, I’m good. I promise, ma.”
He leaned his head back against the thin hospital pillows, but the way he watched was too intense for someone who was supposedly ‘good.’ I let out a long, heavy breath, my gaze wandering over the monitors.
I wanted to believe him; I needed to, but my mind was still spinning from the chaos of the night.
“I guess,” I sighed, not fully buying it.
Nothing about this felt normal, but he said he was good. What else could I do? He cut his eyes over at me.
“Don’t guess me, ma.”
His voice dropped low and rough enough to make my stomach tighten for no damn reason.
I rolled my eyes, a playful smirk tugging at my lips despite the room’s antiseptic smell. “I guess,” I said again.
A slow, dangerous smirk pulled at his lips. “You keep guessing me, and I’m gon’ fuck yo’ lil’ ass up.”
“Boy, please.” I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “You’re not doing anything. You on bed rest. You can’t even move like that.”
“Yeah?” His tongue dragged across his lips as his eyes dropped to my mouth before sliding back up. “Just ’cause my arm fucked up don’t mean there's something wrong with my dick.”
His eyes dragged over me slowly after that, like he wasn’t joking as much as he was pretending to.
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh, but it still slipped under my breath. This man was lying in a hospital bed, and he was talking like this.
Crazy.
“Kyrie, we’re not even on that level yet.”
The words came out quick, but my body ain’t back them up.
“Okay, and?” He shrugged his good shoulder, looking at me like I was the one being difficult.
“Kyrie, my man, how are you holding up?” the agent said, stepping further into the room.
“I’m good, man,” Kyrie snapped, his face scrunching in irritation. “What you doin’ up here?”
“Checking on my star player, making sure you’re solid.” The agent adjusted his cuffs, his eyes darting toward me before landing back on Kyrie. “And we need to talk about a few things.”
“Can’t it wait?” I stepped forward, closing the gap between the bed and the door. I knew Kyrie was hurting, even if he acted like he wasn’t. He needed to heal, not talk business.
The agent sighed, looking at me with forced grace. “I understand the concern, but this is urgent.”
“How urgent?” I pressed.
“Urgent enough that I need to know if he knows who did this. We need to get the cops involved immediately.”
“Nawl.” Kyrie’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He sat up straighter, ignoring the wince that flashed across his face. “We ain’t getting the law involved in this. Leave their ass out of it.”
“Kyrie, be reasonable. We need to get this guy off the streets.”
“Nawl, let me handle it.” Kyrie leaned forward, the hospital gown slipping slightly, revealing the tension in his chest. His eyes were cold and void of the playfulness he’d just shown me.
This wasn’t the man flirting with me a few minutes ago.
This was the man who his agent felt like needed to be under control.
“This nigga got a problem with me? He shot me? Fine. But I’m taking care of this my way. ”
“But Kyrie, you’re better than this,” the agent pleaded, his hands held out as a peace offering. “You have too much on the line. You can’t bring street shit into the league. Think smart.”
“I am thinking smart.” Kyrie’s jaw set, a hard line of muscle jumping in his cheek. He pointed toward the door with his good hand. “Now, if you ain’t got nothing else, get out. I’m tired.”
The agent opened his mouth to argue but saw the ironclad resolve in Kyrie’s stare and gave in to it. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and walked out without another word.
The silence that followed was heavy. Kyrie didn’t relax; he just stared at the closed door, his mind clearly miles away, plotting justice that didn’t involve a courtroom.
I let out a long, heavy breath, my shoulders dropping as I searched his face. “Kyrie, I think you should go and talk to someone about what happened.”
His hand dragged over his mouth like the whole idea irritated him.
“I ain’t talking to no law.” A quiet breath pushed through his nose, and his gaze dropped for a second before lifting back to me. “They ain’t gon’ do shit.”
The words sat heavy between us. Then, he leaned back, his eyes settling on me, different this time.
“Besides.” His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, making his jaw flex. “I got people, and they’ll handle that shit.”
“I guess, but the police came up here while you were in surgery,” I muttered, the weight of the secret pressing down on my chest.
Kyrie’s head snapped toward me, his brow arching so high it disappeared into his hairline. “And what did they say?”
“I told them I didn’t know nothing,” I said, looking down at my lap before glancing back up. “But they started asking me about Jamal.”
A slow, chilling smile spread across his face—the kind that didn't reach his eyes. “Good. Keep it that way.”
“But Kyrie, ain’t this type of shit going to come back and bite you in the ass?” I bit my inner lip, the anxiety bubbling over. I couldn’t have us both caught up on a withholding charge, and the thought of him catching another case for whatever he had planned for Jamal had my stomach in knots.
Kyrie let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated through the bed frame. He reached out, his tongue tracing his bottom lip.
“Don’t worry about me, ma. My people know how to take care of this shit.” He patted the small space on the mattress next to him, his smirk growing wider, more wicked. “Now, come over here and lie with big daddy.”
I should’ve told him no. I should’ve stayed right where I was, but instead, I moved.
I shook my head and laughed. This man was a mess. Climbing into bed next to him, I cuddled up beside him and finally drifted back off to sleep.