Chapter Six
Flip Side
Lincoln
“First of all, Ebony is not thinking about your old, sorry, tired ass.” Josiah hurls the basketball at me so fast, it knocks the wind out of me, causing me to stumble out of bounds.
For a beat, I stare at him. He mean-mugs me, breathing all hard.
Since he arrived at the court— late —with nothing more than “I got next” to say to us, Dom and I figured he was on one. But Josiah is one of those people you can’t force to talk. He’s got to come around when he’s good and ready.
I guess that time is now. I think.
“You all right, bro?” I ask.
“Are you?” he snaps back, stretching his arms the full length of his massive wingspan. His thick, dark eyebrows braid together. “Thought you were supposed to be prime time…out here playing like this is a warm-up, as if we don’t know what’s up.”
On the bench, Dom winces, covering his mouth with his hand, like he’s secondhand embarrassed for me.
I scratch my temple, barely stifling my laugh as I chance a look at this gargantuan, six-feet-seven, sweaty Black hulk with his lumberjack beard and thick neck, out here throwing a temper tantrum. In this heat?
“Use your words,” I tease.
“ Daaaannnnnngggg! ” Dom, the master instigator that he is, falls out laughing on the bench.
Josiah waves us off, pacing the sideline.
The thing is, with my guys, we’ve got our roles in this friendship.
By the sheer brute size of him, you’d think Josiah’s that competitive athlete, always challenging someone, keeping score.
But nah. This man is an introvert through and through.
He’s introspective as hell, listening more than he speaks.
Whereas Dom lives for the drama. And the celebrity gossip blogs.
I chalk it up to an occupational hazard with his sitting in front of screens all day, developing software.
He’s about as scandal-free as it gets. He’s the wild card, bringing chaos via crazy dares or some last-minute “adventure trip” he swears will be fun, but never is.
And me? I’m just the loyal one, who’s got their backs. I pay attention to the details, to what they say. In Siah’s case, I also pay attention to what he doesn’t say.
For damn sure, this isn’t about Ebony.
Before his next pass crushes my ribcage, I tuck the ball under my arm. “Is it the long hauls you’ve been flying?” I ask, deciding to try a different tactic. “Everything’s good with Jade?”
Work or a woman—which is it, my guy ?
He shoots me a death glare. “Man, get the hell out of here with all that nonsense. Are we going to play or you going to just stand there, hogging the ball all damned night?”
“So it is about Jade,” I say, knowing if I’m wrong, and he’s frustrated about work, he’ll correct me.
And three, two , one—
“And no, it’s not about Jade, Mr. Know-It-All.
” He does a full about-face, his hard stare fixed on me.
“If you really want to talk about something so bad, use your words, Linc. What’s happening with Ebony Livingston ?
” He drags out every syllable of the last name, and while I know he’s deflecting, that emphasis speaks volumes about what’s been bothering me since she left my office last week.
She’s one of them.
With or without the ring, not like us, he means.
Nothing has ever come easy to us. In this town, our names—Bridges Heritage Conservation, Carter Aviation, Owens Signature Software—stand for hard work and harder determination.
It’s not about clout and status. We’ve built from the ground up.
Our family’s histories have the deepest Ellswood roots, but somehow, the town’s residents have slowly uprooted them.
In its place, they’re rewriting history. Erasing us.
It’s why we can’t let up.
“I’m listening,” I say, meeting his stare.
The court floodlights flicker ominously as Josiah steps toward me slowly, sizing me up.
Even though every muscle in my body is tense, and my heart is racing, not knowing where his head is, I match his pace.
Is he really this mad? About what?
“Aw, hell.” Dom pushes his tall, lanky frame upright, taking wide strides to reach the center of the blacktop before us. “Why don’t y’all walk it off for a few minutes or—”
“Nah, I’m good,” I say. “At this point, I’m genuinely curious what’s got Josiah so bent out of shape.” Where ’s he going with this line of questioning?
“Yeah, aight…” Dom scrapes his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “Neither one of y’all is good, if you ask me.”
I let out a quiet harumph.
“Unlike some folks, I don’t have a problem being upfront about what’s happening in my life. I’m an open book.” I shrug like this is the easiest thing in the world for me. “What would you like to know?”
Josiah steadies his stance, drawing back his shoulders, chin up, throat bared. “That woman done married a whole other man, then ghosted you when you tried to warn her that he was in the streets. Yet you’re still running behind her, settling for crumbs.” He chuckles. “Pathetic.”
“Oh, I’m pathetic now. Got it.” I nod, the corners of my mouth tugging downward, lower lip protruding.
“Did I know I’d be linked up with Ebony to plan a wedding when I signed on for the restoration of a building that’s part of my family’s legacy?
Nope. Should I give up on the job just because you think—”
“No, I know,” he says, matter-of-fact. “You need to give up on that uppity, money-motivated Zion & Zara she-bot. But we all know that’s not how you’re built.” Josiah’s tone drips with disgust. Then his expression softens as he adds, “It’s time,” and I know exactly what he means.
Way back when, I had a thing for Ebony King.
She was vibrant and alive, with a laugh that I felt in my soul.
We used to talk about everything under the sun, read books together, watch sports, and just find fun and joy in the mundane stuff.
When she dreamed out loud about visiting waterfalls and beaches, getting back to swimming and collecting seashells and conch shells, I was with her.
This woman listened without a hint of judgment as I shared my family’s stories about Ellswood, and how they built this town from the barren ground up.
So when we finally blurred the friendship line, I knew there was no going back. She was it for me.
I begged her not to let them water her down—to choose me.
At the end of the day, I wasn’t her choice. I had to let go. No matter how hard it was.
And I did.
For almost ten years, I just settled for being friends to keep her in my life.
Then I warned her about Julian, and she asked never to see me again.
I respected that. I stayed away. Even when the news about Julian and Nora Whitfield broke, I found myself writing a bunch of texts and letters—maybe a dozen or so.
I opened her contact a million times. I stalked her website and social media.
But in the end, I didn’t reach out. I stuck to my word, kept respecting her wishes, dated women here and there—nothing serious—and ended up married to the job instead.
I haven’t had the time, or passion, for a woman…until now.
Damn.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I nod at Josiah, letting the tension drain from my shoulders. “It’s long overdue.”
Dom releases a relieved sigh. “Man, you all had me scared for a minute.”
Josiah shakes his head, laughing. “Relax. We’re boys. We can’t be out here body-checking each other like this.”
We don’t sugarcoat or hold back with each other. It’s raw, loud, and raucous, but when it’s done, it’s done.
“Nah, but for real, what are you going to do?” Dom asks. “The streets have been talking.”
“And by that, you mean the blogs?” I chuckle.
He sucks his teeth. “Say what you want, but the blogs have been posting photos of your girl, so something’s definitely brewing.”
Josiah and I both burst out howling with laughter.
“My guy, you need better pastimes.” Josiah claps a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “Mind the business that pays you.”
Dom ducks out of his grip, backing away. “That’s how I stay in the know. You should be thanking me, Linc. And if you ask me, all that ultra-professional, keeping-her-distance-at-your-office role play… She’s clearly hiding how much she wants you.”
“That’s what we’re not going to do. We’re not going to glorify this like some rom-com movie,” Josiah says, attempting to nip that theory in the bud.
But it’s too late.
“Remember that lawyer from Buckhead?” Dom lifts his eyebrows like that says it all. He groans when he’s met with our blank stares. “Petite, thick, had that pet snake?”
“Is that a euphemism for—” Josiah starts, but Dom isn’t having it.
He sighs loudly. “Whatever, man. My point is, she helped me review some of the legal stuff with that house I was renting out, and she was into me. It was obvious—body language, eye contact, everything. She wanted me but wouldn’t cross that line.
” He dips his chin, clearly gearing up to make some elusive point, which I assume he’ll deliver any second now.
“A month after the business was done, she reached out. Full admission. She’d been fighting it the whole time. ”
Josiah and I nod, barely suppressing our laughs.
“Well, that’s it, then.” Sarcasm coats my tone.
But Dom continues, driving his point home. “Tell me Ebony’s body language wasn’t there. That in that restroom, she wasn’t a deer in headlights, checking out your junk?”
“You mean his family jewels,” Josiah corrects him, and it’s the last straw. His smooth expression cracks.
These fools sprint a lap around the blacktop, howling and cackling, gasping for air at my expense.
“It’s cool. Y’all got jokes.” Shaking my head, I turn toward the bench, not about to stand here and watch.
Josiah runs me down, grabs his water bottle, and takes a long swig. “So, again. At the risk of harping on the same point, where’s your head? What are you going to do?”
Dom walks over in time to catch the tail end of his sentence, so now the full collective weight of their stares is on me.