Chapter 9 #3
Zaire’s eyebrows shot up. A slow grin spread across his face. Oh, he liked that. Loved when women went hard…as long as it wasn’t on him.
“Yes, I know what I said last time. No, it ain’t changing. No amount of zeros gon’ make me budge. Now leave me the entire hell alone.” She hung up so hard the phone bounced.
She didn’t breathe for a second…didn’t look at Zaire either. Her cheeks were pink. Her chest was rising rapidly. Something about that call hit a nerve deeper than she expected.
“You good?” Zaire asked carefully.
Meadow flinched. “Yea, I’m fine.”
She was lying.
He saw it.
She felt it.
Without warning, she turned off the stove and bolted toward the hallway. “Watch the food…please…I’ll be back.”
Zaire nodded but didn’t move until she was out of sight.
Then he turned off the last burner, slid the pan to the back and stood still for a beat.
Something was pulling him…something in her voice…something in the storm she was trying to hold down.
He followed it.
Looking around the kitchen, then at the trail of heat Meadow left behind, Zaire decided to go check on her.
The old place creaked as he made his way through the modest sized home.
Photos of a young Meadow lined the walls.
Her smile was so big and bright in all of them, except for one where she looked like she just finished crying and tried to smile for the picture.
She was with another girl who looked nothing like her.
As far as Zaire knew, Ray only had one child.
But he didn’t really know much about them, which reminded him why he kept his gun tucked.
If Crescent hadn’t taught him anything else, it taught him to keep his head on swivel at all times.
It was why the league felt he wasn’t clean enough to play on their green… to win on their green.
He rounded the corner and saw a flight of stairs, but before he could make it that far, a small, but firm voice pulled him into another room.
A voice so faint, it cracked between breaths.
Someone singing an old hymn under their breath.
Zaire stepped into the doorway.
A woman sat in a rocking chair near the window, wrapped in a shawl and looking out at the early morning light. Her hair was silver. Her hands fragile and folded in her lap. Her eyes seemed distant like she was watching a movie only she could see.
Magnolia turned her head just enough to see his shape. Her eyes softened in a way that tore straight through him. “Ray?” she whispered.
Zaire froze, his throat tightening. “Oh…” he murmured. “No, ma’am…I—”
“Ray,” she repeated again, reaching her shaky hand toward him. “Come here , baby.”
Zaire’s chest caved in. He stepped forward slowly.
She smiled - a small, grateful smile, one someone gives to the person they love most but haven’t seen in too long.
“You came back,” she whispered. “I knew you would. I been waiting on you all morning.”
Zaire gulped. His eyes burned still, as he crouched down beside her, hands trembling. “I ain’t him,” he said softly. “But I’m here. I’m right here.”
Magnolia brushed her fingers against his cheek the same way a mother touches a child she raised. “You look tired, Ray. You been carrying too much again.”
Zaire closed his eyes. Her touch steadied something in him he didn’t know was wobbling. Even if her words weren’t for him, her comfort fit the moment too well. “I’m alright,” he stuttered, “I’m alright, ma’am.”
She nodded as if she believed him. “You always say that. But you never fool me.”
His spirit shattered. Leaning forward, Zaire let her fragile hand rest against his cheek. He didn’t move or breathe. He just let himself be somebody’s love for the moment.
“Zaire?” Meadow’s question pulled him back to the moment and the reason why he was trekking through their home in the first place.
He opened his eyes.
Her silhouette filled the doorway.
Her face collapsed the second she saw it…her mama touching him like he was Ray.
Her Mama smiling
Her Mama present for the first time in days, maybe weeks.
Tears hit Meadow’s cheeks fast.
“Mama…” she gasped, stepping inside. “Mama, it’s me.” Meadow was always so desperate to be remembered.
Magnolia stared at her, confusion washing over her face. She pulled her hand away from Zaire and squinted. “I’m sorry, baby…have we met?”
Meadow’s strength broke.
Zaire stood up quickly, reaching toward her on instinct. But Meadow stumbled back, shaking her head, trying to hold herself together and failing.
“It’s me, Mama,” she choked. “It’s Meadow…your daughter.”
Magnolia stared at her, searching her face like the answer was buried there but she couldn’t find the right memory.
Zaire felt his chest tear wide open. He reached for Meadow again. She didn’t move this time. She leaned against him like her legs might give out.
He wrapped an arm around her and held her tightly. His calloused hands pressing into her skin. A touch she could feel even through her clothes.
Her breath hitched against his shirt, loud in the quiet room.
Magnolia smiled gently. “You’re very pretty, sweetheart.”
Meadow’s whole body trembled.
“Mama…” Meadow pleaded, voice breaking. “It’s me.”
Zaire’s eyes burned again.
He spoke into her hair, voice barely there. “I got you.”
Meadow’s fingers curled into his shirt.
She was fragile and hurting in a way she never let anyone see.
He pulled her into him without hesitation, guiding her out the room.