Chapter 6 #2
“You seeing her tonight?” he asked.
“Kendra? Yeah.”
“Then go be clear,” he replied. “Don’t stretch something just because it’s been easy.”
I nodded once. “I’m about to head out.”
Marcus stepped toward the door, giving the space one more look. “This is good, though. You finally letting it be what it’s supposed to be.”
I followed his gaze. “It’s getting there.”
He opened the door.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked.
“No doubt.”
We finished our goodbyes with the expectation that we’d see each other for Sunday dinner.
He stepped out, letting the door close behind him.
I stayed back and stood there a second longer, looking at the room like it might answer something for me if I stayed long enough.
Then I grabbed my jacket and headed out, pulling down the gate behind me.
This time it cooperated, but I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.
I knocked, then slipped my hands into my pockets, settling back on my heels like I expected the door to open right away. It didn’t.
The hallway sat quiet around me, the low volumes of someone’s television bleeding faintly through the wall across from her place and footsteps passing somewhere down the corridor that faded just as quickly.
I shifted my weight once, then again, listening for movement on the other side of the door that didn’t come as fast as it usually did.
By the time the lock finally turned, I had already registered that something felt off.
The door opened just enough at first, then wider, and Kendra stepped back without the immediate joy radiating from her core that she usually led with. No smile that reached her eyes. No light comment to ease me in.
“Hey,” I said, straightening.
“Hello,” she replied, her tone even, already turning away from the door as she moved back into the apartment.
I closed it behind me, slower than I needed to, taking in the space before I followed her.
The place looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same.
The kitchen lights were off. No pots on the stove.
The living room lamp cast a soft, contained glow that left the room cast in shadows, like she had chosen exactly how much of this space she wanted to hold tonight and nothing more.
Kendra had already made it back to the couch, one leg folded under her, a glass of wine resting in her hand by the time I reached her living room, and it didn’t look like the first pour.
I stayed near the entry to the living room for a second, my hands still in my pockets, taking her in.
“You good?” I asked.
She glanced up at me, her expression composed, not closed but not inviting either.
“I’m good,” she said. “You?”
“Yeah,” I answered, easing into the chair across from her instead of the space beside her.
“Busy week?” she asked, bringing the glass to her lips.
There was no accusation in it, but it didn’t land like a casual check-in either.
“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting against my thighs. “I’ve been at the Archive most days.”
“I figured,” she replied, lowering the glass and setting it lightly against her knee.
I nodded, rubbing my thumb along the side of my index finger, a habit I didn’t think about until I caught myself doing it.
“I finally started going through everything I picked up at the auction house,” I said, leaning forward a little, my hands coming together loosely as I settled into it. “There were a couple long boxes I didn’t get to really look through out there. Stuff that didn’t look like much on top.”
She watched me, quiet, letting me get there.
“Early Hero for Hire runs,” I continued.
“Luke Cage before they figured out what he was supposed to be long term. A few Jungle Action issues that still had some life in them. And tucked in the back of one box, a first-print Hellblazer. Not pristine, but clean enough that somebody knew what they were holding on to when they kept it.”
Her brows lifted slightly as she registered what I’d said.
“That’s not the kind of thing people just let go of,” she said.
“That’s what I’m sayin’,” I replied with a small shake of my head. “It wasn’t random. It was curated at some point, even if it didn’t look like it on the surface. Somebody built that collection with intention, then… somehow it just ended up there.”
I sat back, the energy easing out of it just a little.
“That’s the part I keep thinking about,” I added. “Not just what it is, but how it got from being important to somebody to sitting in a room waiting to be picked through.”
“That sounds familiar,” she said, something quieter under the words.
I caught it but didn’t push back on it.
“For what I’m trying to build,” I added, “it matters. It gives me something real to start with.”
She nodded slowly, her fingers curling loosely around the stem of her glass.
“I’m glad you went,” she said. “It seemed important to you.”
“It was,” I said. “It helped me see things a little clearer.”
“And everything else that came with that day?” she asked.
There it was. The question didn’t rise. It settled. I held her gaze, then leaned back into the chair, my shoulders easing into it even while something in my chest stayed tight.
“It was a lot,” I said.
“That’s one way to describe it,” she replied.
A quiet stretched between us that wasn’t uncomfortable but definitely felt deliberate. I glanced down at my hands for a second before looking back up. “When we talked this week,” I said. “I didn’t think—”
“That there was anything to address?” she finished, her tone still even.
I exhaled lightly. “I didn’t think it needed to be a whole conversation before tonight.”
She nodded once, accepting that without agreeing with it.
“I didn’t push it,” she said. “I knew we were seeing each other tonight.”
She shifted slightly on the couch, setting her glass down on the table in front of her before leaning back.
“I’ve been noticing some things,” she said. “Not just last weekend. Pretty much how things have been moving for a while now.”
I sat back, letting her have the space to say it in her own way.
“I think you’ve been trying to show up,” she continued. “And I don’t question that when you’re here, you mean it.”
I nodded once.
“But I also think you’re dividing yourself in a way that doesn’t leave room for this to actually become anything beyond what it already is,” she said.
The words were measured and also very clear. I let out a slow breath, my hands coming together loosely. “That’s fair,” I said.
She studied me for a moment, her gaze steady.
“I don’t beg for attention,” she said in a voice that felt grounded. “And I don’t compete for it either.”
“I’m not asking you to,” I replied.
“I know,” she said. “That’s the point.”
That sat heavier than anything else she had said so far.
“I don’t want to be somewhere that requires that kind of effort just to hold it in place,” she added. “That’s not how I move.”
“It shouldn’t feel like that,” I said.
“It doesn’t have to,” she replied.
Another quiet settled in, deeper this time.
“I don’t think this is about timing,” she said. “I think it’s about alignment.”
I nodded slowly, my gaze dropping briefly before coming back to her.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think you’re right.”
She held my eyes for a moment, then asked it without hesitation. “Your preoccupation has nothing to do with the Archive. It’s Nova. Am I right?”
I leaned back slightly, my hand coming up to rest against the back of my neck, the tension there already familiar.
“I didn’t realize it was that clear,” I said.
“It isn’t,” she replied. “Unless you’re paying attention.”
A small, quiet exhale left me, not quite a laugh. I looked at her again.
“It’s not something I’ve been acting on,” I said.
“I didn’t think it was,” she replied. “That’s not what I’m responding to.”
She shifted slightly, her posture still composed, still steady.
“It’s the way you orient yourself around her,” she continued. “Even when she’s not there.”
“Yeah,” I said.
She nodded once, something settling into place behind her eyes. “I care about you. You’ve been thoughtful. Consistent… special. And I’ve appreciated that.”
“I care about you, too,” I said.
“I know,” she replied. “That’s why this isn’t going to be messy.”
We sat there in that for a moment, neither of us trying to turn it into something it wasn’t. Then she stood, smoothing her hands along her thighs in a small, absent motion. I followed.
At the door, she paused, her hand resting lightly against it before opening it. “I’m glad we didn’t drag this out,” she said.
“Me too.”
She looked at me, steady and clear.
“Whatever this becomes for you,” she added, “just let it be what it is. Don’t try to manage it into something easier.”
I nodded. “I hear you.”
“I know.”
She opened the door and I stepped out into the night, the air cooler now, sharper against my skin.
“Take care of yourself, Deion.”
“You too.”
The door closed behind me without hesitation. I stood there for a second, my hands still in my pockets, knowing that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to wait for me to get around to it. I needed to decide.