Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
RHYAN
Iwalk back toward Chauncey’s room, my steps steady even though my mind isn’t.
The door’s cracked just enough for me to hear low voices inside.
Simmy stands first when I step in, stretching his back like he’s been posted up for a minute.
The room shifts the second I enter—too quick, too quiet.
Yeah… I’m definitely the topic of their conversation.
“Don’t stop talking on my account,” I say, cool and unbothered, even if I don’t feel it all the way.
My eyes flick around the room, taking it all in—Simmy, Coop, True… and then him. Chauncey. Awake. Watching. Always watching.
I don’t know how this is going to play out, and honestly, I don’t have the energy to play nice tonight.
Not after everything.
Not after him.
I adjust my bag on my shoulder, grounding myself.
One thing is clear—if Chauncey starts talking crazy to me, I’m out.
I don’t give a fuck about proving anything.
I don’t give a fuck about appearances. And I definitely don’t give a fuck about standing here playing the role of a wife just to make everyone else comfortable.
If he wants me here, he’d better act like it. I’m not about to bleed for a nigga who still doesn’t know how to hold me right.
“All right, Chauncey. We’ll slide back tomorrow. Try not to terrorize the nurses tonight.” True grins. “And don’t pull your damn IV out again.”
Coop daps him carefully. “Glad you still breathing, nigga.”
Chauncey just nods, lips pressed tight, eyes never leaving me. The three of them file out together, their voices low as they enter the hallway.
The door clicks shut behind them.
Silence swallows the space.
I cross the room slowly, slide my bag down, and sink back into the chair I abandoned earlier. The air feels heavier now—thick and humid with everything unsaid. Chauncey leans back against his pillows, eyes cutting through me like a blade.
“I’mma ask yo ass again. Where the fuck yo ass been all day?”
The words land like a slap.
Sharp.
Accusing.
My heart stutters, but my face doesn’t flinch. Because if there’s one thing Chauncey won’t get from me tonight, it’s the satisfaction of seeing me break. I fold one leg over the other, calm, controlled, even as my pulse hammers like it’s trying to escape my ribs.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I say softly.
His jaw flexes.
And just like that—the war begins.
Let’s go nigga.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I say, my voice low and measured.
His eyes narrow like I just lit a match on his chest. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I would.”
“Too bad, nigga.”
“Don’t play with me, Rhy.”
“Then don’t question me like I’m one of your little hoes.”
His jaw ticks. The monitor beeps faster as his pulse quickens.
He notices.
Doesn’t care.
“You got jokes,” he mutters. “I’ve been in this bed fighting for my fucking life, and you out here… what? Taking coffee breaks and long walks down memory lane with another nigga?”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Watch yours,” he snaps.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
I lean back, arms crossed, calm as I practiced. “Out. Breathing. Something you couldn’t do a week ago.”
“That’s real cute,” he growls. “You left me for dead.”
“I didn’t leave you, Chauncey. I saved you. But you’re too damn proud to see it.”
“I see the marks on your neck.”
My heart jerks—but my face doesn’t flinch. “Oh yeah?” I say coolly.
“Oh yeah,” he bites, eyes locked on me. “I might’ve been down, but I ain’t blind. You had a whole lot to say when you thought I was dead… now I’m right here. Say that shit again. Say it to my fucking face.”
His voice drops, rough, controlled, dangerous.
“You wanted me to fucking hear you, right? So, talk.”
This nigga pauses for a beat.
“I know you’ve been gone for three days. I know damn well you weren’t in a hospital cafeteria.”
“Careful,” I murmur. “You sound just like a jealous ass nigga.”
“I am jealous!” he explodes, voice cracking with the weight of it. “Because you’re mine.”
“I was yours,” I correct softly. “You let me go.”
His chest heaves. “You walked.”
“Because I was drowning.”
“And you let another nigga fucking save you.”
“And you were too busy destroying me to notice I needed saving. You are the nigga who was supposed to fucking save me. Don’t sit here and play the fucking victim.
You never came for me once, but the moment shit wasn’t looking good for you.
I put my pride aside and caught a flight to see about you, something you have never fucking done. ”
The words slice out of me before I can stop them.
And they hit—I see it in the way his eyes flicker, pain cutting through the fury like lightning. He’s quiet now, fists knotted in the blanket, jaw locked like he’s chewing broken glass.
For a moment, the only sound is the monitor beeping steadily like a countdown.
Then, softer—barely more than a rasp: “I almost died, Rhy.”
“I know.”
“And all I wanted… was you.”
I blink.
Because for the first time tonight, he sounds less like a monster… and more like a nigga who’s terrified he already lost me. His words hang in the air, ragged, bleeding.
“I almost died… and all I wanted was you.”
I don’t move.
I don’t breathe.
Because if I do, I might fall apart right here.
Chauncey swallows hard, his gaze locked on mine like I’m the only thing tethering him to this world. And for once… there’s no fire in his eyes.
Just fear.
“You ain’t said it,” he murmurs, voice low, hoarse. “Not once.”
“Said what?”
“That you still love me.”
“You haven’t said it either.”
My heart stutters.
He shifts, wincing, forcing himself upright like he’s trying to meet me where I am—even from that bed.
“I’ve been lying here thinking about everything I fucking did,” he says. “Every way I broke you. Every time I let the streets matter more than you.”
His voice softens, cracks under the weight of memory.
“I remember you crying in our kitchen… remember you walking out with your ring on the counter like it ain’t mean nothing no more.” A pause. “And I let you.”
That lands harder than anything he’s said all night.
“I let you leave, Rhy… because I thought you’d come back.”
My throat burns.
“I thought you’d still be mine when I woke up,” he whispers. “But you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking stranger… like I’m just some nigga you used to know.”
I press my palms together in my lap, holding myself still—because if I reach for him now, I might not pull back.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” he admits, eyes glassy, voice stripped bare. “I don’t know who you love, Rhy.”
Damn, Chauncey paused for a beat.
“I just know… it used to be me.”
My chest starts to ache, tight and unfamiliar, like my body’s reacting to something my mind ain’t ready to face. I wasn’t expecting this.
I wasn’t expecting Chauncey to be awake when I walked back in here today. Not after spending the last few days with Kosh… not after finally feeling like I could breathe again.
Now all of this?
It’s too much.
Too fast.
Too real.
I don’t know if I can do this. I love Chauncey… I still do. That ain’t something I can lie about, no matter how much I want to. But loving him and losing myself trying to prove it?
I’m not doing that again.
And I damn sure ain’t about to stand here and pacify this niggas feelings like mine don’t matter too.
Not this time.