Chapter Four Corlin Crown Alexander
One thing about Solae, her alarm was going off at seven o'clock on the dot every damn morning. If it didn't, her whole day would be off track, and everybody around her would catch hell.
I cracked one eye open when I heard the shower running upstairs.
She was already up and moving.
I wasn't though.
A damn catastrophe could've happened outside, and I would've slept through it.
By the time I finally dragged myself off the couch, Lae came strutting down the stairs like she was headed to a fashion shoot instead of her momma's house.
Meanwhile, I had just thrown on whatever clothes I kept in her guest room.
Typical man shit.
That burnt-orange silk halter hugged every curve she had, showing just enough side boob to make a grown man lose focus. Her fitted jeans did her no favors either, and those heels clicked against the hardwood like they knew they looked good.
Lord, help me. I kept my face straight.
My phone lit up and I was thankful for the distraction.
Fuck!.
I looked down at the screen and sighed.
“I wish she'd stop fucking calling.”
I declined the call and shoved my phone back into my pocket.
She didn't ask questions. She hated Kaylani, and I damn sure didn't blame her.
She knew better than anybody that if I wanted to talk about it, I'd bring it up when I was ready.
“Your car or my car?” she asked.
I already knew some smart shit was about to come out of my mouth.
“Ain't nobody trying to drive your thot mobile.” I chuckled even harder when she rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, okay. Better to drive one than be one.” she giggled.
I looked over at her.
She'd been hanging around me too damn long.
Truth be told, I was driving anyway. Solae's driving would have anybody gripping the dashboard and stomping imaginary brakes from the passenger seat. I'd rather take my chances behind the wheel.
The second she stepped outside, she froze.
Marcus had spray-painted her pink KIA from one end to the other, like a damn toddler left alone with a Sharpie.
“I can’t even believe this bitch.” Lae stomped her feet in frustration.
I laughed and shook my head.
“What you expect from a dude soft as cake?”
She shot me a look, but she knew I wasn't lying.
“I'll get one of my best men to clean it up when we get back. Don't even stress it.”
I walked around and opened the passenger door to my Charger for Solae, giving the area a quick once-over before making my way to the driver's side.
“Notice something?”
She frowned.
“What?”
“He did that shit to your car.”
I started the engine.
“Not mine.”
She stayed quiet.
“Lae, you gotta choose better.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
She reached over and cranked the music up before I could say another word.
I just smirked.
One thing about Solae, she'd claim damn near everything I owned like it belonged to her.
Looking over at her dancing in her seat made me smile because if anybody deserved to be happy, it was her. She had a bad habit of attracting dudes who sold her dreams and told her everything she wanted to hear.
I couldn't count how many times I'd had to pull up to her house because Marcus was talking to her crazy or had her in shambles. He was sneaky and Solae just let it be what it was.
See, the real issue was her hyper-independence.
She'd spent so much of her life carrying everything on her own that letting somebody else lead felt foreign.
She'd probably never be fully happy until she met a man strong enough to make her feel safe enough to take the back seat and know, without a doubt, she'd be okay.
Here I was, a grown-ass successful man, and Kaylani still had a hold on me that I couldn’t figure out.
That was the part I hated admitting, even to myself.
People saw the money, the business, the discipline, and the way I carried myself like nothing could shake me. They saw the man I became, but nobody really understood the shit that built me.
Real shit, I learned a long time ago that depending on people came with consequences.
My mom taught me that lesson without ever meaning to.
She loved me the best way she knew how, but her best was inconsistent.
One minute she was my mother, and the next she was chasing liquor, attention, men, and whatever else made her feel young and alive.
I spent most of my childhood raising myself.
I learned to survive off instinct. I learned to read a room before I walked into it, spot a lie before it left somebody's mouth, and recognize disappointment long before it arrived.
Kids are supposed to feel safe in their own homes.
I never knew what that felt like.
I knew what it felt like to pray the lights were still on when I got home from school.
I knew what it felt like hearing my mother stumble through the front door with liquor stuck to her skin like perfume at two in the morning.
I knew what it felt like pretending not to hear strange men arguing through the walls.
Some nights I slept with my back pressed against my bedroom door.
Some nights I didn’t sleep at all.
Then there was Mrs. Sherline. She was an amazing woman and the closest thing I ever had to a mother figure.
Her house became the only home I ever knew.
I still remember the first time she fixed me a plate without asking questions. No pity. No judgment. Just warmth.
She treated me like I belonged.
Her daughter did too.
She had this way about her that made life feel easier. Even as kids, she made space for me in ways nobody else did. She never treated me like the boy with the fucked-up mamma. Never made me feel unwanted.
Around her, I didn't have to prove anything. I didn't have to be tough.
I could just be Corlin.
As I got older, I turned pain into ambition.
I worked harder than everybody around me. Hustled harder. Built a life that looked nothing like the one I came from. Money became security. Discipline became peace.
Control became comfort. That was probably why Kaylani fucked me up so bad.
I let her in too soon.
She was there through college and through the trenches of my teenage years. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that history guaranteed loyalty.
I gave her consistency, patience, and a version of me I'd never offered anybody besides Solae.
Then she turned around and made me feel like that little boy sitting alone in the dark all over again.
Her excuse? I worked too much.
Betrayal hits different when abandonment already lives in your core memory.
That kind of pain doesn't just break your heart.
It rips open wounds you spent years trying to close.
So yeah...
I moved on mentally, made money, kept my head down and kept building.
But emotionally...
Part of me stayed trapped in that moment with a gun in my hand and enough rage to destroy everything I'd worked so damn hard to become.
Maybe that was why love never came easy. Trust cost too fucking much.
Still...I was hopeful.