Chapter 26 #3
“Don’t let fear take it from you,” Magnolia whispered, eyes drifting closed again. “Fear ain’t never loved nobody, especially not a Black woman.”
Meadow bent over her mother’s shoulder, crying as quietly as she could so she wouldn’t shake the bed. She still heard her.
Magnolia muttered dreamily. “I hope you find your Ray.”
The dam inside Meadow broke completely.
She kissed her mother’s forehead, wiped her own tears with shaking hands, and stood up. By the time she reached the hallway, her breath was still uneven, chest tight, heart splitting itself open.
Lesha stepped out of the bathroom, bonnet tilted, glasses on, towel over her arm.
One look at Meadow’s face and she knew she was needed. “You need me to sit with her?” she said immediately.
Meadow nodded fast. “Please…I-I need to talk to him.”
Lesha didn’t hesitate. “Baby, go. I got your mama. You ain’t got to explain nothin’.” She placed a hand on Meadow’s shoulder. “And just so you know…it’s almost like I came here for this. I used to do home care when Zaire was little. I know how to watch after somebody. Your Mama safe with me.”
Meadow nodded again, breathing shakily “Thank you.”
“All you worry about,” Lesha said, squeezing her shoulder, “is gettin’ my son.”
The rain had eased into a slow and steady downpour by the time Meadow stepped onto the green. The grass glistened under the floodlights, each drop catching the glow like stars had fallen and melted into the earth.
Zaire was already out there, hood up, shoulders broad, club in hand, looking like the storm was something he’d been arguing with.
He heard her feet before he turned.
His voice didn’t hold heat this time…just exhaustion and a low, rough edge that softened when it was her. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
“You shouldn’t be either,” she countered.
He didn’t argue. He was too tired to argue with her, especially not when he’d been arguing with her in his head for days now.
He didn’t move either.
Meadow walked closer, rain tapping her skin in chilly bursts. “Play me.”
This was so Meadow coded. So nostalgic Black love, coded.
Zaire’s brow lifted just enough for her to see it under his hood. “Play you for what?”
“A game…words. Give me yours and I’ll give you mine.”
“What kind of game?” His tone dipped into something dangerous, something she felt behind her knees.
“Strip golf.”
His mouth parted, then closed, then curved into a slow grin he tried to hide by lowering his head. “You play too much, cuh.”
“I’m serious, Zaire…play me for my words.”
“What about your trust?” he looked at her and she finally saw his eyes. They were tired and red, or maybe he’d smoked himself into that airy Cali vibe that he carried around in his pocket just to make small town girls fall in line.
“Trust…clothes…words…one for one,” Meadow’s tears fell but they blended in with the rain.
Zaire just stared out into space. He was sure there was a reporter somewhere watching, lingering, waiting for just a smidgen of anything. “Each hole?”
Meadow crossed her arms with a small nod, he barely caught.
“You think you gon’ beat me?” he asked, staring at her through the small glow of the moon.
“I think I got something worth winning.”
That did it.
He dropped his hood. Rain soaked his waves, darkening his curls and sharpening the line of his jaw. “Aight then…what’s at stake? Be clear.”
She swallowed. “If I win…you stop avoiding me.”
His eyes tightened at the corners. “And if I win?”
Meadow inhaled. “You can have whatever you want. You can leave.” She almost choked on that part.
Zaire stepped up, the night pulling taut between them. “Whatever I want?”
“Yes, Zaire.”
He chuckled low. “Baby…you gon’ regret that.”
Baby. The word she hadn’t heard all day and didn’t know how long she’d actually been holding her breath because of it.
“No, I won’t.”
He tapped the ball into place. “First swing.”
She stood back, arms folded, pretending she wasn’t watching every inch of him. His shoulders loosened, posture aligned, and he hit the ball in one clean stroke that echoed across the rain-wet grass.
It dropped in the cup like it was scared to disappoint him.
“Jacket,” he said, no-nonsense in his tone but also no warm melody she craved for, and hung on every time he opened his mouth.
This was already brutal. Regret started to snake up her body.
Meadow sucked her teeth. “You cheated.”
“How I cheat?”
“You hella talented and irritating.”
Zaire motioned with two fingers. “Words? Trust?”
If she wanted to play this stupid ass game instead of just apologizing, then Zaire was going to make her feel it.
Meadow unzipped her jacket. His eyes dropped to her braless chest and back to her face.
“You petty,” he uttered, swiping his tongue over his lips.
“You asked for this.” Her body shivered.
“Words,” he demanded.
Meadow inhaled. “I’m scared.”
“Of me?” he asked quietly.
“Of us.”
Zaire gave a clipped nod, but didn’t say a word. He just stepped into the next swing. Another perfect shot. “Pants.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t, but you want to.”
Meadow slid the leggings down her body. Rain kissed her thighs and chill bumps rose everywhere.
Zaire’s gaze dragged over her slowly…hungry, wounded, loving, and frustrated.
“Words.” He tapped his club against the ground again, waiting to hear what she had to say next. At the rate he was going, she was going to be naked sooner than later. He was hitting shot after shot and until he lost, she didn’t get to swing.
She swallowed. “I feel like a failure.”
Zaire’s throat flexed, but he didn’t comment.
Next hole.
Meadow sighed when his ball went in effortlessly. He didn’t need to coach the words out of her anymore. “I kept it from you… because I didn’t want the man I love,” her voice cracked, “to think I’m the glass slipper instead of the fairytale.”
It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.
Meadow was perfection to Zaire. She wasn’t fragile like she believed.
His Meadow was whole in his eyes. The quintessential version of Black woman love.
She was the calm to his sharp edges, the quiet steadiness that softened his noise.
Hearing that she worried about being something delicate, something meant to be worn instead of loved, made his lungs almost forget how to work.
The thought of her shrinking herself for him hollowed him out, left him bent inward, and aching to prove that she was never something he’d break.
She was the place he went to feel fixed. If anyone was broken, it was him.
“Next hole,” he whispered, but he didn’t move to swing.
He stepped toward her instead.
Rain slid between them.
Meadow’s voice trembled. “Why you ain’t swinging?”
“Because I want your words first.”
“Zaire…”
He tilted her chin up with his wet thumb. “Say the rest.”
“I love you,” Meadow sighed. “I love you so bad I can’t breathe half the time.”
Zaire dropped the club and pulled her into him like something primal.
His lips brushed hers, then the kiss deepened.
Their kiss didn’t glide into sweetness.
It dragged…It gasped… It took.
Meadow tasted rain and regret and that stubborn west-coast air that always lived in his mouth. Zaire held her face like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go. His lips moved against hers slow at first… then deeper, hungrier, like he’d been starving for this kind of truth.
But it wasn’t enough, not for either of them.
He broke the kiss first, sighing deeply. He flicked his thumb over her protruding nipple. Between the thin fabric of her shirt and the rain, she may as well been naked.
She gasped for air, for more of his touch.
“Trust?” Zaire’s voice dripped with desperation. “This doesn’t work if I don’t have your trust, Meadow.”
“I know and I’m sorry.” Apologizing never tasted so sugary sweet.
Zaire let his thumb fall from tweaking her nipple. Looking down, he grabbed his club, lined up two balls and hit them consecutively. They both landed exactly where they were supposed to. “Shirt, panties…I win.”
“Wait!” Meadow looked down at her body.
“Your rules, remember…anything I want.” Zaire towered over her, the rain letting up just a little.
“What do you want, Mr. Cooks?”
“A pole dance.” His eyes slitted into a sexy scowl, challenging her.
“Wait! Your Mama is in my room.”
“I’m ‘bout to put her ass out…I need to see you on the pole.”
She swallowed. “Okay, but do I have to take the rest of my clothes off out here?”
Zaire nodded.
Kissing her teeth, Meadow stripped down, only leaving her rain boots on. Her arms wrapped around her body to create some kind of warmth. Neither of them gave a damn about their parents looking out and seeing her naked as the day she was born.
Zaire ran his hand down the front of her body, teasingly. Coated in rain, he flicked his finger over her clit.
“Ugh,” her head fell forward, landing between his abs and chest.
“C’mon,” Zaire finally said after feeling her up. He removed his own hoodie to cover her body.
Before they could move, Zaire stopped her “Wait.”
“What’s wrong” she asked, concern on her face.
“Ask for my words.”
Meadow bent down to hit her own ball. Finally, she got her chance to play. It landed in the cup. “Words,” she smirked.
“I’m scared too,” he confessed.
“You don’t act scared.”
“My whole body is.” He tapped his chest. “You think this shit easy? Loving somebody while your past still tryna choke you? When the world’s watching? When I’m tryna keep my Mama proud and keep these demons quiet?”
She touched his face. “You’re not a demon.”
“I feel like one sometimes.”
“You’re not.”
That made him smile. “C’mon cause I really need that dance.”
The house was quiet when they slipped inside, both of them damp from the rain but warmer than they had any right to be.
Magnolia was asleep. Lesha was curled up on the couch in Magnolia’s room with her blanket pulled up to her chest. Ray was still in the shed, pretending to fix a hinge that didn’t need fixing.