Chapter 39 Farrah
Mekhi came home different. He seemed quieter, heavier. He walked through the door with something on his mind. Whatever it was, was worrying him bad. My unbothered not-boyfriend was bothered.
I felt it when he touched me. I was used to Mekhi teasing me, handling me with an edge.
Not exactly rough, but not gentle. This time, though, he moved differently.
He seemed urgent, but not rushed. No ripping clothes off.
No taunting me, no slick comments, no aggravating back-and-forth.
It’s like he needed it, needed me, needed to touch something, feel something.
He fucked me with an edge, with quiet desperation and something that looked like sadness in his warm, chocolate eyes.
Now the room was dim, light leaking in through the blinds, stretching across the floor and up the bedspread. His arm wrapped around me tighter than usual, holding me to him like he thought I might go.
That wasn’t happening.
His chest rose and fell under my cheek, the rhythm steady.
His heartbeat calmed me, even though I knew that beneath it, there was turmoil.
He didn’t talk. He didn’t sleep either. He just stared at the ceiling fan like the blades might whirl out some answers.
I slid my fingers across a scar on his ribs, wondering how he’d been hurt.
Usually, he’d snap out something, tell me to quit feeling him up.
I’d tell him he liked it. This time, all he did was exhale.
I knew he wasn’t one to share much, but I had to at least try.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, letting my fingers trail against his abs and back up to where I could feel his heartbeat.
“What you mean?”
“You just seem… preoccupied.”
I could feel him looking down at me. “You don’t think I got enough to be preoccupied about, Little Thug?”
I blew out a soft breath. “That’s not what I’m saying. You seem extra preoccupied today.”
“Damn, a nigga slipping,” he mumbled.
“Because you showing emotion?”
“Hell, nah. Because this dick didn’t put ya annoying ass to sleep.”
I rose enough to smack his chest with my open palm. His lips twitched, curving into a smirk. It looked like a tired one.
“I went to see my uncle today,” he said finally, his voice thick, rough.
I waited, let him get his words together. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, but I could tell he wasn’t really looking at it. He was seeing something else entirely.
“Mekhi,” I murmured, bringing my hand to his jaw, brushing my thumb along the line of it. “You can talk to me.”
He turned his head then, and his eyes met mine. There was so much in that cocoa gaze.
“That nigga Trell…” he started, then stopped and swallowed hard. “He ain’t just some random problem, Farrah. He’s family.”
My stomach dropped. “Family like blood family?”
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, gravelly. “My uncle’s son. KeAndre.”
I blinked. “The same uncle you visited today?”
He nodded.
“And he told you straight up that Trell is—”
“He didn’t say the name first,” Mekhi corrected softly. “But when I described him, tall, dark skinned, that birthmark, he knew. That birthmark… I think Gillian knows, too.”
He dragged a hand down his face, eyes closing for a second like the truth was too much.
“His middle name is, was Kentrell,” he said.
It took me a second. A sinking, sick second before the word formed in my mouth.
“Trell.”
He nodded.
I felt my whole chest tighten with sympathy. “Khi…”
“Shit is crazy. I been running around tryna figure out who this man is, why he coming for me, for you.” His voice shook a little. “And the whole time, it was blood.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Nigga mad at me ‘cause his daddy and my mama, they were on some foul shit, Farrah. Fucking snakes. Thinking about how my daddy must’ve felt, his brother and his wife…”
His voice broke, then. I pushed myself up and eased my leg over his hip, straddling him so he had to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m so sorry that people you trusted didn’t deserve it.”
He let his hands rest on my thighs but didn’t grip them like usual. He didn’t try to pull me closer. He was thinking too hard.
“That ain’t all, Farrah,” he said. “There’s more shit they never told me. Something about my father. Something that happened the night he died.”
The way his jaw clenched, tight enough that a muscle ticked, made my heart squeeze. Time passed in silence. Finally, I spoke.
“Mekhi… tell me.”
“She always said it was a break-in. Some drugged out nigga looking for a come up, ’cause my pops was doing good for himself.
He and my uncle were building something, getting out of the hustle.
One fucked up nigga… and he was gone. We were in the house.
Heard the screaming. Heard the shot. I wanted to get us out, me and my sister.
But I was too scared to walk out the door.
A fucking coward while my daddy lay bleeding out because I knew who ever shot him was out there. I couldn’t see another way—”
“That’s why you count exits,” I said under my breath.
“That’s why I count exits. All that time. She had us scared, traumatized. And it was her. I think my mama killed my daddy, Farrah.”
His voice cracked, his lashes sweeping down to hide his suddenly damp eyes. I’d seen Mekhi Venzant without clothes, but I’d never seen him naked, not like this. My heart broke for him.
“You remember what you told me about Marissa?” I began softly. “You were a kid. A child who was scared. There was nothing you could do.”
I stopped suddenly, wouldn’t let myself say his mother was a selfish bitch for ever putting him in that position. Instead, I kissed him, slow and sweet, letting my lips say all the things my mouth wouldn’t.
He exhaled when I pulled back, a long breath that I prayed released some of his tension. His hands finally tightened on my hips, pulling me down into him.
“You shouldn’t be in this shit,” he said quietly. “None of this should be touching you. You supposed to be studying, going to class, living your life—”
“And I am,” I cut in. “But I’m also here. With you.”
“Annoying the hell outta me,” he teased.
I kissed my teeth. “And you like it. I’m not scared of no Trell,” I continued. “And any of the shit he brings. You make me feel safe, Mekhi.”
His lips brushed my forehead in a soft kiss. It felt like a thank you.
“Good. Took yo’ irritating ass long enough to admit it!”
Smiling, I settled back down on his chest, back over his heart.
The low, steady beat of it was becoming my favorite rhythm.
I hadn’t lied to him—his presence made me feel safe.
And now that Trell had a name, had an origin story like other villains, I trusted that it was only a matter of time before we caught him.
The room was quiet except for our breathing. I was used to arguing with him, fussing at him, used to some kind of noise between us. But right here, in this bed, wrapped up in silence, wrapped up in him, I was content.