Chapter 14 #2
Sevyn chuckled, trying to shake it off. “Nobody comes before you, boo. Don’t get jealous now. I’m just like that with all my clients. Say something sideways about Xavier, and I’ll give you the same look.”
“Wait, hold up—Xavier’s one of your clients?” Harper’s mouth dropped open. “That’s how you know that nigga? Girl!” She slumped dramatically in her seat. “Why do I keep surrounding myself with fine, crazy-ass men?”
“He’s not crazy!” Sevyn snapped, then softened. “You don’t have to be crazy to go to therapy, Harper. That’s half the problem with how our people see healing.”
“You right,” Harper admitted. “But your type of therapy? The men who come to you? They’ve been through some shit. So what’s Xavier’s deal? PTSD? Bipolar? Schizo? Just batshit nuts?”
Sevyn sighed, debating. She shouldn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything. But Harper was her best friend—and despite all the tough talk, Sevyn saw the way she looked when Xavier name was spoken.
“Why you wanna know so bad?” Sevyn asked, smirking. “You don’t even like him, remember?”
“I don’t,” Harper snapped. “But I gotta deal with the nigga four times a week for two-hour sessions, so I need to know what the hell I’m dealing with.”
Sevyn hesitated. Then caved. “He has IED. Intermittent Explosive Disorder. But he’s working through it. And he’s trying to get better— that’s what matters.”
Harper went quiet. No eye rolls. No jokes. Just a small nod and a quick glance out the window.
She already knew that look. Harper might not have been ready to admit it, but something about Xavier had her curiosity hooked—and her gu ard up.
And Sevyn? She’d be damned if she let her best friend walk into something blind.
“No judgment,” Harper started, her tone cool but decisive. “But I’m definitely not going on a date with him now.”
Sevyn smacked her lips, throwing her a look. “Why? Because he has anger issues?”
Harper’s head turned slowly, eyes locking with hers. “Look, Sev. You might’ve grown up with loving parents, in a safe-ass neighborhood, went to top schools and shit, but I didn’t.”
“First of all, yes, my parents are solid,” Sevyn fired back. “But I went to hood public schools my whole life. I might’ve been privileged, but I ain’t blind to real life or stuck up.”
Harper blinked, surprised. But she shook her head and kept going, her voice more grounded now, realer.
“Still. You don’t get it. I never saw both my parents in the same room.
Hell, I don’t even know the woman I came out of.
My father? Pimped her out. Strung her out.
Got her pregnant and dipped—leaving her to die.
He chose drugs over me, every damn time. ”
Sevyn swallowed, her heart tugging at the vulnerability in Harper’s tone. But Harper wasn’t finished.
“I grew up watching my cousin—who I love like a brother—become one of the coldest, most dangerous men I’ve ever met. And yeah, I love Hassan, but Sevyn, that man is not normal. Whether you want to defend him or not, he’s unstable.”
“Harper—”
“No, let me finish,” she said quickly. “So when it comes to Xavier, I’m sure he’s sweet, I’m sure he’s working through his issues. But I’ve already lived in chaos. I’ve already survived mental instability and emotional neglect. I’m not trying to date it too.”
She paused, then added quietly, “I want peace. I want something— someone—that don’t feel like survival.”
Sevyn nodded slowly, the weight of Harper’s truth settling between them like fog. She didn’t take it personal. She couldn’t. Harper wasn’t coming from a place of judgment—she was coming from experience.
“I get it,” Sevyn said softly. “I really do. And I hope you get that kind of love, Harp. The kind that’s quiet in the best way.
Safe. Steady. Real. The kind that doesn’t remind you of where you came from, but where you’re going.
Someone who sees you beyond your trauma and loves Harper Gaines for exactly who she is now. ”
Harper smiled through watery eyes, sniffling. “Bitch, your ass is good with words.”
Sevyn laughed. “No, hoe. You just sensitive. You the most crybaby- ass gangster I know. ”
Harper cracked up because it was true. All bark, big bite—but soft as baby wipes underneath it all.
“I thought that was Dorian,” she joked.
Sevyn looked at her sideways. “I’ve known Dorian since the womb. That bitch don’t cry. If she ain’t smiling, she’s mad—and somebody getting their face beat in.”
They both burst into laughter.
“You two swear y’all weren’t raised in money. Y’all act like straight hood babies.”
Sevyn grinned. “We might’ve had money, but the hood raised us right.”
Harper rolled her eyes, but deep down, she was grateful—for the laughs, for the love, and for a friend like Sevyn who never judged her, only held her down.
Their conversation was interrupted by Dorian FaceTiming. “Speak of the devil,” Sevyn muttered with a smirk, answering the call as Dorian’s face filled the screen.
“Bitch, why can’t I see you?” Dorian demanded—no hello, just vibes.
“Because you’re on CarPlay,” Sevyn laughed. “What’s up?” “Girl—I finally got that bitch!”
Harper instantly cracked up in the passenger seat, but Sevyn squinted, confused. “Who?”
“Ariel,” Dorian said like it was obvious. “That bitch wanted to fuck for legs, so I broke her down like Sebastian was watching.”
That sent Harper into a full cackle. “Did she really just compare her to the little mermaid?”
“Is that my bitch?!” Dorian shouted when she recognized Harper’s voice.
“Hey, boo!” Harper sang back through her laughter.
“Back to you breaking down Ariel,” Sevyn cut in, her voice sharp with curiosity now. “When did this happen?”
“Girl, like fifteen minutes ago. I was at the bank to meet with Kayla about some investment stuff and boom—there go her raggedy ass. I forgot that was her daddy’s bank.”
Sevyn’s stomach dropped. She knew Dorian’s version of revenge was... explosive. “Is she still alive?”
“Who the hell is Ariel?” Harper asked, still trying to catch up. “Unfortunately, yes. Roman stopped me.” Dorian rolled her eyes like it was a personal betrayal.
“I choked that bitch out for you, baby,” Roman called in the background, his voice calm, like he didn’t just say something criminal. “If you wanted her dead, you should’ve said the word.”
“Wait—you with Roman?” Harper raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin forming.
Sevyn’s head was spinning now. “Hold on—you fought Ariel, Roman choked her out, and now you’re just... chilling at his house?”
“Yes, girl,” Dorian said like it was nothing, curled up on Roman’s couch like she paid the bills.
“Wait. Choked out?” Sevyn repeated in a whisper, clutching the steering wheel a little tighter.
“Come to Roman’s. I’ll explain everything,” Dorian said, waving her hand like Sevyn was being dramatic. “You know I don’t do this phone shit.”
“You can’t just be inviting people to that man’s house—” “Girl, he don’t care,” Dorian and Harper said in unison. “Right, Roman?” Dorian asked, smug.
“Call me daddy and I might change my mind,” Roman joked from somewhere behind her.
Dorian rolled her eyes. “Fuck no.”
“She good. Harper always welcome. And since Sevyn my new sister-in-law, she basically family too,” Roman added smoothly.
Harper blinked. “Sister-in-law?” Dorian’s eyes widened. “Sister-in-law?”
Sevyn froze. “He just talking,” she said quickly. “He’s been making dumb jokes ever since he saw me coming out of Hassan’s office.”
The way both Harper and Dorian stared back at her in suspicious amusement made Sevyn instantly regret opening her mouth.
“Oh, we got a lot to talk about,” Dorian said with a knowing smirk. “You got my location.”
Sevyn groaned quietly. She really needed to stop slipping around these two.
The ride to Roman’s house was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft bass of the music vibrating through the car—but the silence between the women?
Loud. Thick with unspoken thoughts and side- eyes.
Harper kept glancing over at Sevyn, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips like she was dying to ask what really went down with Hassan. But she held her tongue.
Sevyn, on the other hand, refused to look her way. Her eyes stayed glued to the road, jaw clenched, pulse racing. The smirk she could feel coming from Harper was louder than the music. She just focused on getting there in one piece.
When they finally pulled up to Roman’s estate—massive, gated, intimidating—Sevyn felt her chest tighten.
She knew she was about to walk into the fire.
And she wasn’t sure if she had it in her to come out unburned.
?? ?
Sevyn was back at her place in no time, but peace?
That was nowhere to be found. Not with Dorian and Harper camped out in her guest rooms, buzzing with energy and questions.
The short time spent at Roman’s house had been intense—almost overwhelming.
From Dorian’s blow-by-blow recap of nearly killing Ariel in the bank parking lot, to Roman choking her out like it was just another Tuesday, to both of them digging into Sevyn’s “situation” with Hassan—there had been no room to breathe.
Thankfully, she dodged most of their questions about Hassan by sticking to her story: she was only at his office to drop off his jacket and leave.
Simple. Safe. Nothing too revealing. She couldn’t exactly say they shared a blunt and had an impromptu therapy session—that would throw up red flags Roman might not be chill about.
Especially since it was supposed to be confidential.
Harper, to her credit, kept her word. She promised not to tell anyone about Hassan going to therapy—not even their grandmother. That secret was still intact… for now.
But Sevyn knew another storm was brewing.
One that came in the form of her father.
Because despite everything Ariel had done— betraying her, sleeping with Braxton—Ariel’s father, Henry, was still close with Sevyn’s dad.
Both personally and in business. And once word reached him that Dorian had rearranged Ariel’s face in public, Sevyn knew she’d be getting a phone call.
Or worse—a family meeting. Growing up, if Dorian got in trouble, Sevyn got questioned.
Didn’t matter if she didn’t throw a punch; everyone knew if Dorian was acting up, Sevyn wasn’t far behind.
They were adults now, but somethings never changed.
Still, tonight? She was pushing all that to the back of her mind.
Because somehow, Harper and Dorian had suckered her into going out. Again. Another club. Another night. Another round of shots and trouble waiting to happen.
And for once, Sevyn didn’t even mind.
Sevyn might not have been in the mood to get drunk and throw ass, but she damn sure looked the part.
She stepped out like she had something to prove.
Her dress—brown, skin-tight, and sheer in all the right places—clung to every curve like it was made just for her.
It stopped just above her ankles, giving her gold Tom Ford heels the stage they deserved.
Each step she took screamed confidence, elegance, and “don’t play with me. ”
Her hair, freshly laid days ago, was styled in a long jet-black body wave that cascaded down her back like silk. With her beat face, glossy lips, and lashes long enough to fan the haters away, Sevyn didn’t just look good—she looked unreachable. And she knew it.
Once the girls were dressed, they slid into the black Escalade like they w ere stepping into a music video. The three of them? Bad bitches on a mission. Heads turned before they even made it to the club, and they hadn’t even gotten out the car yet.
It had been a minute since Sevyn let herself have a real night out.
The drama with Braxton. The blowout at her parents’ house.
Her tension with Hassan that she couldn’t even begin to untangle.
She was overdue. She didn’t want to think about love, heartbreak, or healing. Tonight wasn’t about any of that.
Tonight was about drowning in the bass, moving like her problems didn’t exist, and reminding herself—and the world—that Sevyn Love wasn’t broken. She was reborn.
Harper and Dorian had one mission: to get Sevyn drunk, dancing, and going home with a fine-ass distraction. But Sevyn? She wasn’t looking for another nigga to disappoint her. She just wanted to feel free. Laugh loud. Move wild. Be seen. Be her.
Because sometimes, healing looked like therapy.
And sometimes, it looked like a sheer dress, gold heels, and a night full of reckless abandon.