Chapter 10
My parents’ house hadn’t changed in decades.
The same red-brick colonial with its white trim, black shutters, and perfectly edged lawn.
My father’s Steelers flag still hung from the porch like a wartime standard—even though the season had ended weeks ago and he was still sulking about Tomlin stepping down.
Nineteen seasons and it hit him like a betrayal.
The door creaked open before I could knock a second time.
“Look who remembered she got people that raised her,” Dad grinned, pulling me into a hug that smelled like Old Spice and all the best childhood memories.
“You’re so dramatic,” I murmured against his chest, but I held him longer than usual. His arms still felt like safety.
“And you’re glowing,” my mother called out from the kitchen, her voice full of tease and truth.
I froze.
“What?”
She rounded the corner with a dishtowel in her hand and that look she gave when she knew something before you did. Her eyes ran over me—hair freshly done, skin warm, lips still a little swollen.
“Don’t play with me, Sanaa Ellison.”
I kissed her cheek to redirect. “You been talking to Jada.”
She scoffed. “I don’t need Jada to tell me when my daughter walks in here looking like she’s been deeply appreciated.”
“Vivian,” my father barked.
“What? She’s grown.”
I laughed, but my stomach flipped. Even here—in the quiet of home—I felt his fingerprints on me.
We moved into the living room. Dad launched into a passionate breakdown of draft prospects and coaching changes while Mom poured tea like we weren’t all carrying unspoken things. I nodded where I should, murmured agreement, but I wasn’t really there.
I was back in Tariq’s bed, the sound of his voice still thick in my ear. That late-night call had wrecked me. The bass in it. The need. The way he said he’d spend every Sunday inside me if I let him.
My thighs clenched at the memory.
And he wasn’t even mine.
The doorbell rang.
Jada didn’t wait for anyone to open it—just burst in with all her usual chaos and joy trailing behind her. “Hey y’all! We brought cookies!”
Being a school teacher meant being loud enough to capture the attention of little hellions.
My niece Aaliyah came bouncing through the door with pink barrettes and a voice that never stopped moving. Miles, smaller and quieter, followed with serious eyes and a dinosaur tucked into his little fist.
I dropped to my knees.
“There go my babies.”
Aaliyah hurled herself into my arms. Miles took his time, but once I opened the other side of my embrace, he tucked himself there like he always did. Why did the innocent smell so good, I thought as I held them tight.
Jada stood in the doorway watching, her smile too full, too knowing. She was the only one in this world who could read my pulse through my posture. And she knew. She already knew.
The moment the kids got swept up in my father’s stories and dinosaur battles, Jada slid into the kitchen beside me, arms folded, voice low.
“You look different.”
“I changed sweaters.”
“Sanaa.”
I sighed. “You gon’ pull it out of me like a confession?”
“Nope. You know I don’t move like that.” She leaned against the counter, waiting. Always creating space instead of pressure.
“I saw him,” I said quietly.
Her brows lifted. “Recently?”
I nodded. “Last week.”
Her mouth fell open. “Wait—what kind of saw?”
I didn’t answer.
“You fucked him?”
“Jada.”
“I’m asking for context!”
I turned away, but not before she saw the flush on my face. I’d worn it since I left him this morning. That stupid, aching heat in my body that no shower could scrub away.
“Oh my God, you did. And that explains everything.”
She stepped closer, all wide eyes and wide smiles. “Okay. How was it?”
“Where’s your husband?”
“You know he’s on call at the hospital—now spill it.”
I stared at the floor.
Her eyes widened again. “That good?”
“Jada, don’t—”
“No, no, I’m not judging. I’m praying for round two on your behalf.”
I rolled my eyes, but my heart pounded. There’s been two, three, fo’-five rounds, chile. But I didn’t spill all of that.
She calmed, resting a hand on the edge of the counter. “So how do you feel?”
That was the question. Not what happened, but what now.
“I don’t know if I can trust myself with him again,” I whispered. “Not just my body. My heart.”
“Because he pulled away before?”
I nodded. “And I stayed long enough to feel it happen.”
“You gave him everything.”
“I did,” I said. “And when it mattered, he folded.”
“But he’s back now.”
“Yeah. And I don’t know if it’s because he’s ready… or because I’m still the only place he feels safe.”
That truth sat between us.
Jada took my hand. “You’re scared you’ll love him harder than he knows how to hold.”
Tears swelled. I didn’t blink them away. I let them sit there—quiet and unshed.
“I don’t want to lose myself in him,” I said. “But I already feel it starting again.”
“You’ve always been fire and intuition, Sanaa. You don’t love halfway. But don’t forget who you are.”
“I haven’t,” I said. “That’s why I’m scared.”
She reached in and held me in the kind of hug only a big sister can give you. “Just remember—you’re not the same woman who waited around last time. You’re her evolved. Her healed. And that is a good place to start again.”
The sound of Miles roaring like a dinosaur echoed through the house. Aaliyah giggled. My father started a story about ‘back when defense meant something.’
Life was happening. And I was here, trying to make sense of how a man could break you once, then return with a voice that made you want to break again—just to feel his hands putting you back together.
“He didn’t say we were back together,” I whispered.
“But you feel it?”
My silence was the answer.
“When you say his name, it still sounds like home.”
I closed my eyes. It did.