Simmy
“What?”
“Your people just turned Palisades into a damn fight club.” Security rushes. “We need you up here—now.” I close my eyes slowly.
“Rhy…”
Across the room, Chauncey looks up.
“What happened?” I hesitate.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Don’t play with me,” Chauncey snaps, already shifting like he’s about to get up. “What happened?”
I exhale.
“Our wives just laid some hoes out at Palisades.”
Silence.
Then—Chauncey rips the covers back, ignoring the pull in his body.
“I’m going.”
I stepped in front of him immediately. “No, you are not.”
“Move.”
“I said no,” I replied, firm now. “You ain’t even healed yet. You go out there like that, you gon’ do more damage to yourself than anybody else.”
Chauncey’s chest heaves, eyes wild. “She out there fighting over me?—”
“No,” I cut in. “She’s out there because she’s done.”
That lands, heavy and ugly. I’m keeping it Real.
“I’ll handle it. You stay your ass in this bed and get right.”
Chauncey clenches his jaw so tight it aches. Every instinct in him says go. Go see her. Go stop it. Go remind her—but he can’t.
And that?
That’s what really eats him alive.