CHAPTER TWELVE
DR. NIGEL AMIN-RASHID(NAJEE)
Jackie sat across from him, eyes glassy, mouth trembling.
Almost like she hadn’t meant to let any of that out.
But she did. And now she was sitting there raw and real.
Gone was the attitude and the armor she started the session with.
Now she sat before him exhausted and aching from pain only years of survival and sacrifice could produce.
It hit different when a woman built like iron and steel finally let you see the rust underneath.
Not weakness. Just wear from weathering countless storms with no covering.
Najee had been doing this long enough to know when someone was at capacity.
Jackie wasn’t just a mother under pressure.
She was a woman stretched thin by grief, guilt, and grind.
And still, she showed up. For her son. For herself. Even when she almost didn’t.
Her voice had gone soft, unsure, when she asked if she was doing okay.
And in that moment, he didn’t see the IG handle Zambia clowned.
He didn’t see @MissJackieifyahnasty. He saw a mother clawing her way through a storm, trying to build something gentle in a world that had never been gentle to her.
She deserved softness. Not pity, charity or lecture.
Just Softness. “You’re doing more than okay,” he told her.
“You’re doing the best you can in a system that’s never cared to ask you what you need.
” She nodded slowly, wiping her face. He didn’t offer her a tissue.
Instead, he stilled, gave her his undivided attention, and held space for her to process her emotions.
Najee found that sometimes presence was more powerful than comfort.
After a few seconds, she stood, adjusting her bag, and finally slipping her sunglasses back in place.
“You good?” he asked. “No,” she said quietly. “But I’m here.”
He nodded once. “That’s enough for today.
” She gave a small, grateful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, then turned toward the door.
Najee watched her go. Watched the way she squared her shoulders just before stepping out, like she had to rebuild the armor she had taken off for him.
He had seen a lot of strong women sit across from him in that same chair.
But none quite like her. Jackie Brown was layered.
Tough and tired. Mouth sharp, heart soft.
And even though he knew better, he could already feel it.
The pull. The curiosity. She wasn’t just another case note. Not anymore.
That realization sat in his chest like a warning.
He tried to ignore it. But he knew better.
More importantly, he knew himself. Najee watched her disappear down the hallway, the soft sound of her shoes fading against the tile.
For a moment, he stayed seated, telling himself to let her go.
To let the session end where it ended. Keep this professional.
Ignore that familiar urge to intervene. But then he glanced out the window toward the schoolyard.
And there she was. Alone. Standing in the drizzle among a handful of parents waiting for dismissal.
Najee checked his watch. He had ten minutes until the bell rang, and the schoolyard filled with kids and staff.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he stood, grabbed his blazer and umbrella, and headed for the door.
When he finally stepped outside, the rain wasn’t mist anymore.
It was steady, and had picked up, significantly.
He jogged across the lot, careful not to startle her.
She looked lost in thought, arms folded tight, scarf damp at the edges.
“Thought you might need some cover out here,” he said, lifting the umbrella over her head.
She looked up, surprised, then gave a small, tired smile.
“Thank you,” she said softly. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Just the rain between them. “I think I owe you an apology,” she said finally. He glanced down at her.
“Yeah? For what?”
“I don’t know.” She exhaled, watching the rain drip from the edge of the umbrella.
“Maybe for how I came into the session. I was hostile and you didn’t deserve all that.
” Najee shrugged lightly. “It’s part of the job.
” She shook her head. “Still. I thought that session was gonna be you trying to dissect me and pick apart my parenting. I just want Max to get the help he needs. To get better.” Najee’s voice stayed calm.
“Helping you helps him, Jackie. You are a package deal. He’s an extension of you.
” She went quiet. But the way she looked at him now, like something finally clicked, said enough.
“Maybe,” she murmured, more to herself than him. Then she sighed.
“You ever had one of those days that just refuses to take its foot off your neck?” He smiled faintly.
“Only every Tuesday.” That pulled a soft laugh from her.
“I got this event setup tomorrow,” she said.
“Small birthday dinner. Thirty people. Some half-ass balloon garland, centerpieces, backdrop installs. Sounded like light work when I booked it. But now…” She rubbed the back of her neck.
“I might send the deposit back. I can’t have Max out that late on a school night. Not in that part of the city.”
“You’re thinking about canceling?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “The venue’s shady.
No parking. No security. I don’t even like riding through that area solo, let alone with my baby.
Plus, I’m dog-tired. I barely made it here today, and my whole crew got COVID.
” Najee nodded once, then said, “So let me help you.” She looked up quick, brow lifting even behind her shades. “Help me? Like… you?”
“Yeah. Me.” She smirked. “Respectfully, Doc, I don’t think it’s safe for you either.”
He chuckled. “Don’t let the blazer fool you.” That pulled a real laugh out of her.
“You really tryna blow up balloons and fold linen napkins, Dr. Nigel?”
“Call me Najee,” he said. “And yes. Why not?” She shook her head, still smiling. “But” he added, “if I could help get us out of there by seven… hypothetically… what’s in it for me?”
She tilted her head, amused. “You won’t be able to. But… hypothetically?”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll make you my famous brown butter bourbon peach cobbler,” she said casually. He blinked. “You cook?” She grinned. “I don’t wanna toot my own horn… but toot.” His mouth curved.
“But that cobbler?” she added. “That’s my ministry.”
“Done deal,” he said. She squinted at him. “I didn’t say I agreed to let you help.”
“I didn’t say I needed your permission.”
“Well… you do need the address,” she teased. “Well, you got me there.”
That made her laugh again. Louder this time. Warmer. The rain softened as the first bell rang. She looked at him for a long second. “You not what I expected.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “What were you expecting?” She smirked.
“A hipster motherfucker with a clipboard and a superiority complex.” Najee laughed. “Damn. What a glow-up.” She shook her head, that small smile lingering. “Seriously… thank you, Najee,” she said quietly. He paused at that. Hearing his preferred name from her for the first time.
“For what?”
“For not meeting me where I started.”
That quieted him. Then they heard it, sneakers slapping against wet pavement.
“Fat Daddy! Stop running, it’s wet out here!” Najee turned just as Maximus came barreling toward them, Syxe a few feet behind, very pregnant, umbrella in hand. “Mommy! Mommy!” he called.
“Auntie Syxe said I can spend the night with Micah and Imani!” Jackie looked at Syxe, who met her with a soft, knowing look. “Kormia called me,” Syxe said gently. Jackie swallowed, eyes shifting away. Najee stepped back, giving them space. “It was good talking to you, Ms. Brown,” he said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” she said, a faint smile returning.
He nodded and turned toward the building.
“Najee, your umbrella!” she called. “It’s yours,” he said without turning back.
He told himself to leave it alone, leave the session in the session.
But the truth was simple. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Jackie Brown since the moment she walked into his office two weeks ago.