Chapter 26
Meadow stood behind Zaire with her arms folded, watching him line up a shot like he had all the time in the world.
“Your feet crooked,” she teased.
He didn’t even look back. “Ain’t nothin’ crooked but the curve in this dick. You know that”
She smirked. “Just hit the ball.”
His mouth could be so filthy sometimes and she liked to pretend she didn’t like it.
The club cut through the air and the ball took off in a perfect arc like even gravity knew better than to interfere with him. Meadow rolled her eyes only because she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how fine he looked doing something he was born for.
Zaire adjusted his stance, relaxed his shoulders. The sweaty tee pulled across his back just enough to make her stare longer than she meant to. He dragged the toe of his shoe across the grass like he owned every inch of it - like this land wasn’t just Ray’s but somehow belonged to him now too.
He turned the club in his hand, spinning it with that lazy confidence the league hated. When he finally glanced over his shoulder at her, it wasn’t even a smile he gave.
It was a knowing look, a slow, smug, full-body knowing glance. As if he could feel her watching him…as if he liked being watched…as if her attention was his favorite thing he’d earned all day.
He licked his bottom lip, subtle and unhurried. “You keep starin’,” he called her out, “I’m gon’ start thinkin’ you in love.”
Meadow cleared her throat, trying and failing not to be impressed. “Whatever.”
“You love me,” Zaire muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.
She nudged him with her hip. “You wish.” They both knew she loved her some him, but she liked to pretend that she didn’t.
Zaire reached for another ball, his brow raised. “I don’t ever gotta wish for what’s already mine.”
Meadow rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. Four days back in Juniper Falls and they kept finding little pockets of joy like this…quiet mornings, laughter, teasing, Magnolia’s soft spells, Lesha’s jokes, Ray’s steady presence. It felt… peaceful in a way that scared her.
Zaire set up his next swing. Meadow leaned against his back, pretending she wasn’t doing it on purpose.
Zaire’s lips twitched. “Get off me before you distract me.”
“That’s the point.”
He kissed his teeth and swung again.
The ball cracked so perfectly Meadow had to hum. “Okay…show off.”
Zaire smirked, finally turning to her. “Your turn.”
“Hmmm, no. My arm hurts.”
“You full of-”
He stopped.
Not mid-sentence…but mid-air.
His entire body went still.
Meadow frowned and followed his gaze.
At first, she didn’t understand what she was seeing.
A blur…movement beyond the tree line.
Something metallic reflecting sunlight.
Then her pulse flipped.
Cameras…a line of them.
Then another flash.
People spilling onto Ray’s land like ants…reporters climbing over the fence, moving fast across the grass, microphones raised, tripods in hand.
“What the hell -?” Meadow whispered.
Zaire’s jaw flexed like a heartbeat. “Nah…nah, cuh…how’d they even-”
More cameras pushed through the trees, a whole wave of them now, swarming the open green like they owned it.
They didn’t walk toward them, they rushed, shouting before they were even close enough to be understood.
Zaire stepped in front of Meadow so fast he almost knocked the club out of her hand. “Stay behind me.”
“Zaire -”
“Stay behind me.” His voice wasn’t angry, it was lethal.
They backed up until Meadow’s spine hit the golf cart. Zaire’s arm stayed stretched across her, shielding her as the reporters closed in.
“Zaire, comment on the unpaid property taxes!”
“Is it true she owes sixty thousand dollars?”
“Is Meadow Rain your girlfriend or your dependent?”
“Is she using you?”
“Are you paying her bills?”
Meadow froze. Her soul slid down her legs and hit the ground. This couldn’t be happening, especially not now…not when she’d fallen for him, and he’d claimed to have fallen for her. Now, was the worst time for all her dirty secrets to hit the fan.
Zaire took one step forward, his eyes flashing dark.
The reporters surged two steps closer.
He grabbed the nearest camera and shoved it back. “Aye, back the fuck up.”
More cameras swung toward him.
Zaire’s nostrils flared. “This private property.”
“Is Meadow bankrupt?”
“Are you rescuing her financially?”
“Did she hide it from you?”
“Why didn’t she tell you?”
Meadow’s breath caught, she grabbed her throat, then her chest. So much was happening so fast, it felt like her whole body was failing. Her knees weakened and her heart fell out her chest. All she wanted to do was disappear.
Zaire saw it…felt it. His entire body snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight.
He reached behind his waist and Meadow’s scream ripped out before she could stop it. “Zaire, DON’T!”
It was too late. He’d curled his hand around the handle of his gun as rage swept over him.
None of the reporters saw it coming. The draw was quick and clean in a way that only men who grew up around danger could do without thinking.
It was second nature to Zaire. Touching a gun at five would do that to anyone.
Everything went silent. Terrifyingly silent.
Cameras dropped and microphones trembled. There wasn’t a question in sight.
“You got three seconds to get the fuck off her property cuh,” Zaire barked.
“Ziare!” Meadow, yelped grabbing his arm. That mouth and that skin, had already gotten him in enough trouble with the PGA. She didn’t want him to get into more trouble.
He kept his eyes focused on the crowd. “If you don’t move…I swear to God, cuh…”
A single tear dripped from Meadow’s eye. “Please, Zaire,” she choked out.
Lesha’s voice cut through the air so hard even the reporters were startled.
“Ziare!” She ran across the porch in slippers, with her bonnet on and the tail of her robe flying behind her.
She pushed through the green like she’d been preparing for this her whole motherhood. “If you don’t put that gun down!”
Zaire didn’t even blink. All he saw was red and the red he saw wasn’t just a color. It was warm and changed colors when it hit the ground.
“Zaire.” Lesha’s voice boomed.
Movement finally flickered in him. It wasn’t anger, it was pain. Deep, scared, old pain he had never learned how to hide.
Lesha placed one hand on his cheek, the other on his wrist. “Baby…you not him…you not your Pops…you not for the streets…you not what they want you to become.”
He exhaled like someone was squeezing the air out his chest because that’s what it felt like.
Meadow stepped closer, shaking. “Zaire…come back.”
His hand trembled.
The reporters backed up slowly…cameras retreating, bodies stumbling.
Zaire finally lowered the gun…not all the way, but down.
Lesha grabbed the weapon out of his hand like she’d been doing it since he was fifteen, because she had in fact been doing it that long…maybe longer. “Go inside,” she ordered. “Now!”
Zaire’s pulse raged and his nostrils flared as he grunted shit under his breath. He looked at Meadow with an intense stare showing a mixture of someone broken, furious, and scared all at once. The hurt in his eyes…the betrayal he felt…the humiliation…the fear.
Meadow took a shaky step toward him, her voice barely holding up. “Zaire…”
He stepped back like her touch would burn him. “Did you know?” he asked quietly.
That question split her in half. “Zaire, I-”
“Did…you...know?” His pink tongue jutted over his lips to cool his skin. Cool his words.
She swallowed hard with glossy eyes. “Yes, but—”
His face twisted, with rage and heartbreak. He’d told her to pay the bills. Now, her pride had run over into his life.
Reporters yelled in the distance. “Just a statement… that’s all we need.”
Zaire flinched, his heart aching and snapping him back to the present.
He couldn’t take it. Not in front of strangers…
not in front of his Mama…not in front of Meadow…
not in front of his own self. He’d never folded for the cameras and he wasn’t about to start now.
He walked off quickly toward the guest house.
Meadow chased him, her short legs unable to keep up. “Zaire! Please let me explain!”
He didn’t turn around…didn’t even slow his steps. What he did do was, slam the front door hard enough to make the windows rattle.
Lesha held Meadow once she’d caught up with her. “Baby…give him a minute.”
Meadow covered her mouth, tears spilling like mad tears.
Lesha rubbed her back, voice soft but sure. “He ain’t mad at you.”
Meadow sobbed. “Then who is he mad at?”
Lesha exhaled a long, sad, knowing breath. “A Black man who just realized he can’t protect everything he loves.”
It was dark now and most of the reporters were gone, though a few still lingered. They weren’t afraid of Ray’s old shotgun he threatened them with. Rena turned around and went back home when she saw the mess, telling Meadow she’d call her later to let her know if she would be returning.
Meadow knew Rena’s decision was more so about Zaire not being on the market, than the actual reporters. Still, she was too emotionally exhausted to argue with Rena right now.
Ray had been fussing all day and Magnolia was just confused. Lesha handled everything like the seasoned mom of a celebrity.
Meadow knew it was better to talk about the incident than just pretend nothing happened, so she ran across the yard in the rain to the guest room.
The moment Meadow stepped into the house, the walls felt wrong.
..too quiet…too tight…too small for the weight sitting on Zaire’s shoulders.
He was standing by the tiny counter with both hands braced against it.
His head was down, he seemed to be gasping for air like somebody cracked open the chest he spent years fortifying.
He was also staring at his phone as voices came over the speakerphone.