Excerpt The Secrets We Hate #3
Scanning the immediate area, I noticed Harlow and Chaq standing close by, along with Mother Hawkins, Bobby, and a few other people. Without acknowledging her, I returned my attention to the once-empty grave. There was nothing she hated more than being ignored. And I intended to do just that.
“Hard to find that peace you were always talking about, Preacher?” she taunted, using the nickname my teammates had given me in high school.
Back then, I wore my faith on my sleeves. Before and after every football game, I recited a prayer. My friends started calling me “Preacher” as a joke, but it stuck. That nickname died with my sister, though, and I wasn’t the nice boy Nique remembered anymore.
“I loathed your fuckin’ dad,” she growled.
“He was a lame-ass nigga. Always so holy. Yet so wrong.” She tapped her chin.
“Kind of like you. Maybe if he would’ve kept his wife happy, she wouldn’t have been riding my daddy’s dick every chance she got, ruining our family name by getting pregnant with her worthless spawn. ”
The subject of Faith’s true paternity had rippled through our community, turned the gossips into vipers and backstabbers. Exactly what Nique had intended when she leaked the story to the newspaper, making my family the topic of town discussion.
Humphrey Rivers was a piece of shit, who had no intention of ever claiming Faith as his own.
On the other hand, my father had never wavered in his commitment to be the best dad to both of us.
The truth was, my parents’ marriage had been dangling on a thin string for years, even before we knew the identity of Faith’s real father.
And the facts never changed what I’d always known.
Faith was my sister. Faith was Odell Young’s daughter. End of story.
Nique’s patented scowl-slash-smile formed on her lips. “Unfortunately, Faith was a whore just like her mother,” she sneered.
“Watch it,” I warned, my resolve cracking under the weight of Nique’s words. The dig hurt because they were nothing alike. Faith was love and light. She was genuine and affectionate, she cared about others. My mother was detached and artificial on her best day, deceptive and hateful on her worst.
Nique stepped in front of me, pinning me with a glare. “There you are. Finally.” In the sunlight, her chestnut eyes almost looked red, like the demon she was. “You mad? What are you going to do next? Say a prayer? Kill me with kindness?”
I counted to ten. Slowly. When my heartbeat steadied, I took another calming breath and inched closer to her. I stared at her without blinking, enjoying her slow intake of breath, the way she averted her gaze for a second before meeting mine again. She was unnerved. Uncomfortable. I love it.
Swallowing, she retreated backward. But I stepped forward again.
“What is wrong with you?” she snapped. “Back the fuck up, Knox, and ask yourself this question. You’ve already lost so much.
How about I take everything else you have?
Your money, your father’s land. Everything.
” She peered at a point behind me, toward where Harlow and Chaq were standing moments earlier.
“And I won’t stop at you,” she promised.
“I’ll destroy that bitch, Harlow, too … and your son, leaving you with nothing but bad memories and regret. ”
The vitriol she’d hurled at me should’ve felt like a slap, like pouring salt over an open wound.
Yet, in this one moment, the only emotion I felt was the perfect peace that had evaded me all day.
It washed over me, coating every frayed nerve, every tense muscle, every wayward thought.
Every doubt. And I wasn’t going to let Monique Rivers take it away from me. Or anything else for that matter.
Smiling, I closed the distance between us and hugged her. “Thank you for your condolences.”
She struggled against me, but I didn’t loosen my hold. “What are you doing?”
“You mentioned my father being at peace in the arms of the Lord. With our sister. That is a comforting thought. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that heaven is their final destination.
” Leaning back, I tucked a strand of her blonde weave behind her ear, trailed my fingers down her neck, and squeezed it tightly.
She gasped as the hint of fear flashed in her eyes before she schooled her features. “Have you lost your damn mind?” she spat.
“Nah. Remember? My mom, your dad. Long-term affair. Sister in common. We’re old friends, right?
You wanted a prayer? How about a message?
” Leaning in, I whispered, “Take heed. Instead of worrying about my son, my Harlow, or where my family’s final resting place is, maybe you should be concerned with the fire and brimstone awaiting you in hell.
And who’s going to send you there to be with your father. ”
“You can hate me all you want,” she growled, “but if you cross me, I’ll destroy you.”
Finally, I let her go, pleased when she struggled to stay standing. “Stay safe.”
Then, I left her there, without a backwards glance.