Kyrie Maddox
Sianni and I stood in the kitchen making some shit she had seen on Facebook. Shawty stayed finding recipes on social media and forcing me to try them. Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, it didn’t matter. If she saw it online and it looked good, she was making it.
I wasn’t complaining, though. The shit always ended up bussing. Plus, watching her in the kitchen did something to me every damn time.
She stood at the stove, stirring something in the pot while music played low through the speakers. I stayed behind her, messing with her every five seconds instead of actually helping.
“You gonna help or keep being in my way?” she asked, cutting her eyes at me over her shoulder.
“I am helping.”
“You just ate half the damn cheese already,” she said, shaking her head.
“That’s because I’m making sure it tastes right.”
“That's not helping.”
“In my world, it is.”
She shook her head, trying not to laugh while turning back toward the stove. Damn, I loved seeing her comfortable around me like this now.
A couple of months ago, shawty barely wanted me breathing near her. Now we were in the kitchen together, like some regular-ass couple.
“So, baby, how was rehab today?” she asked, glancing over at me while stirring the pot again.
“It was straight,” I replied, leaning back against the counter. “We ain’t really do too much today.”
Today had been one of the lighter rehab days, thank God. My shoulder was still sore as hell from earlier in the week, but at least I was finally starting to feel more like myself again.
I hated sitting around, feeling limited. And honestly? Getting back on the field wasn’t even the only thing on my mind anymore. Now, every time I thought about getting better, I thought about her too.
And being able to protect her. Take care of her and touch her without feeling pain shooting through my damn arm every five minutes.
“You sure you’re not overdoing it?” Sianni asked softly. “’Cause you been acting like Superman ever since they took the cast off.”
I smirked instantly. “Baby, I am Superman.”
“No, you’re hardheaded.”
“That too.”
She laughed under her breath while I walked over behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist carefully.
The smell of the food mixed with her perfume immediately shifted my whole mood.
“You smell good as hell,” I muttered against the side of her neck before kissing it once.
“Kyrie…” She laughed softly. “I’m trying to cook.”
“And I’m trying to mind my business, but you keep standing over here, looking thick.”
She ain’t say nothing. She just smiled, and she shook her head while standing at the stove. I grabbed a handful of her ass, squeezing slowly. That shit was soft as hell, too.
“Kyrie…” she moaned quietly, making me smirk.
“What?” I chuckled against her ear.
“Stop.”
“Stop what, mami?” I asked, my voice lower this time.
For some reason, she loved it when I talked in her ear. Every time I did it, her whole body reacted as if the shit had flipped a switch in her or something.
“I’m trying to cook,” she muttered, trying to sound irritated even though I could hear the smile in her voice.
“And I’m letting you cook.” I grinned while sliding my hand over her hip.
“No, you not.”
Before I could say something slick back, my phone suddenly started ringing on the counter.
I let out a breath before walking to grab it. The second I saw Thomas’ name flash across the screen, my mood shifted a little.
“Yeah?” I answered, sliding the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Kyrie, what you doing right now?” Thomas asked.
“I’m at the house with Sianni. What’s up?”
There was a pause.
“I just got a call saying Jamal got released.”
“What the fuck?”
My voice came out louder than I meant it to, making Sianni jump slightly behind me.
“Yeah,” Thomas continued. “They said it wasn’t enough evidence, and now he claiming self-defense.”
I felt my jaw tighten instantly.
This was exactly why I ain’t wanna involve them people in the first damn place. I already knew they wasn’t gon’ do shit.
“Bet,” I muttered, biting my bottom lip while nodding slowly.
“Kyrie,” Thomas warned. “Don’t do no stupid shit.”
“I ain’t doing nothing,” I replied, even though my mind was already moving. “But good looking out.”
“Man, I’m serious.”
“I hear you.”
The second the call ended, I slammed my phone down on the counter hard enough to make Sianni flinch again.
“Kyrie…” She frowned. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered quickly. “Everything straight.”
“No, it’s not.” She turned the stove down before looking at me fully. “Your whole demeanor changed. What happened?”
I rubbed my hand over my beard for a second.
Truth was, I ain’t even wanna tell her. I already knew this shit was gon’ stress her out. But at the same time, I wasn’t about to keep shit from my wife either.
“Thomas just called and said they let Jamal out.”
“What?” Her eyes widened instantly.
“Yeah. They saying it wasn’t enough evidence, and now the nigga claiming self-defense.”
She let out a slow breath before shaking her head. “See? This is exactly why I told you to tell them everything.”
“Sianni, that shit wouldn’t have changed nothing,” I snapped, frustration creeping into my voice. “You see what the fuck just happened. They let the nigga walk anyway.”
“Yeah, but you have cameras around here, Kyrie,” she argued. “They could look at the footage and clearly tell he was the aggressor.”
“Man, fuck all that,” I muttered, already walking out the kitchen. “I’ll handle this shit myself.”
Because at this point? That was exactly what the fuck I planned to do.
I already knew who to call, too.
The second I made it upstairs, I pulled my phone back out and dialed Marvin.
He answered on the third ring. “Yeah, nigga?”
I laughed a little despite how pissed off I was. “Damn, nigga. What the fuck you doing?”
“Working out. What’s good?”
“I need you to hit up Zeek for me. I’m gon’ call CJ.”
There was a pause. “Why? What happened?”
“That fuck nigga Jamal just got outta jail.”
“What the fuck?”
“Exactly.” I rubbed my jaw hard enough to feel the tension in it. “Nigga talking about self-defense.”
“Man, that shit don’t even sound right,” Marvin muttered. “How the fuck they let him out already?”
“’Cause the system is weak,” I replied, pacing across the room. “That nigga should’ve never even had a chance to touch daylight again after what the fuck he did.”
“Facts.”
I rubbed my hand over my beard before glancing toward the bedroom door. My whole body still felt tense as hell.
“Nigga lucky I’m trying to stay focused on football right now.”
“Nah,” Marcus snorted. “That nigga lucky you married now. Old Kyrie would’ve been crashed out.”
“Who said I still won’t?” I muttered.
That made Marcus laugh a little before his tone turned serious again. “What you want Zeek to do?”
“I need him to find out where the nigga at first,” I replied calmly. Too calmly. “After that? We gon’ handle it.”
“Aight. I’ll hit him up.”
“I’m finna call CJ too.”
“Say less.”
The call ended a few seconds later, and I stood there staring out the window for a minute, jaw tight as hell.
All I could see was that night.
The gunshot. Sianni screaming. Blood everywhere.
That shit instantly made my mood darker. Because one thing about me?
I could deal with somebody coming after me. But the moment that nigga put my wife in danger, that shit had me pissed off.
“Kyrie?”
I turned around and saw Sianni standing in the doorway, watching me carefully.
Shawty had that look on her face again. The one where she was trying to figure out what was going on in my head before I said it out loud.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
I looked at her for a second before exhaling through my nose.
“Nawl,” I admitted honestly. “But I will be once this shit is handled.”
“Kyrie,” she said softly again.
I looked over at her. Shawty was still standing there, staring at me hard as hell like she was trying to figure out what was going on inside my head.
“You thinking too much,” she muttered.
I let out a dry laugh before turning my attention back toward the window.
“Nawl,” I said quietly. “Niggas just got me fucked up.”
The room went quiet for a second after that.
Then I heard her footsteps behind me.
The second her arms slid around my waist from the back, some of the pressure sitting on my chest eased up just a little.
“You need to relax,” she murmured against my back.
“I will once this shit is handled.”
Her grip tightened slightly after that. And for a minute, neither one of us said anything else.
All I could hear was her breathing behind me while my thoughts kept running wild.
That nigga shot me at my own damn house. Could’ve killed me. Could’ve hit Sianni too. Now they’re talking about self-defense?
Man, that shit wasn’t sitting right with me at all.
“I guess,” she sighed softly after a while. “Now, are you coming downstairs to eat? I finished cooking.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I’ll be down in a few.”
She stayed behind me for another second before finally letting me go.
Then, shawty turned around and headed downstairs without saying anything else, leaving me standing there alone with my thoughts again.