CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
JACKIE
Jackie had been at this practice for hours… and low-key, she was ready to go.
Practice had started late as hell, and by the time the team finally took the field, the “practice” didn’t even look like a practice anymore. It looked like media day for the damn Eagles.
The sidelines were crowded with influencers, streamers, and reporters in windbreakers, each of them dragging whole-ass camera crews behind them like they were covering a draft pick instead of little league football.
Ring lights were clipped to fences. Boom mics hovered too close.
Even the local radio station had pulled up with a van and was broadcasting live like this was a preseason game.
And the crowd? It wasn’t just parents. It was politicians, socialites, business owners, and people who liked being seen.
Half of them weren’t even watching the boys.
They were shaking hands, exchanging cards, getting photo-ops, and laughing too loud for something that was supposed to be about “the kids.” They’d even roped off a VIP section of bleachers near the field like this was some exclusive event instead of a Pop Warner practice.
The who’s-who of the city’s “community leaders” were out in full force, and right in the center of it sat Cash’s bougie-ass momma… Sister Malika.
Sister Malika seemed cool when Jackie first met her.
Syxe had always spoken highly of her, and the few times they discussed Max, or rather his behavior, she’d seemed genuinely concerned about getting him help.
Initially, Jackie thought the therapy suggestion was punitive.
Something invasive and meant to label her son.
Later, she could admit the gesture had been thoughtful—kind even.
Especially once Sister Malika looped in Najee and now Dr. Ish. But lately? Something felt different.
Jackie couldn’t quite put her finger on when the shift happened.
Especially considering Max had been consistent with therapy.
His behavior had improved tremendously, and Jackie had been cooperative every step of the way.
Yet something felt off. For instance, today Jackie had waved twice, and both times Sister Malika barely tilted her chin in acknowledgment.
But every so often, Jackie could feel eyes on her…
her eyes. Not in a warm or welcoming way, either.
But in that quiet, assessing way that made Jackie sit up straighter, adjust her posture, and pretend she wasn’t freezing her ass off on metal bleachers.
Sister Malika had never been outright rude, but Jackie knew when she was being judged.
And in Jackie’s mind, if her own momma didn’t get to judge her walk, neither did this old bitch.
So instead of hovering around the VIP section like the other parents, smiling too hard and trying to kiss the ring, Jackie kept her distance and focused on the field.
The day had finally caught up with her, and Jackie was dog tired.
The dampness in the air had worked its way through her leggings and settled into her bones.
Her body felt heavy, and deep down, all she wanted to do was go sit in her car, lock the doors, recline the seat, and close her eyes for ten uninterrupted minutes. But she couldn’t.
She had to sit her ass there, clap when it was appropriate, and yell “That’s my baby!
” like she wasn’t running on pure fumes.
Thankfully, Najee had thought ahead and packed hand warmers and sock warmers to combat the cold.
The temperature had dropped twice since the morning, each time more disrespectful than the last. Luckily, Jackie Brown was true to this, not new to this.
She popped open a few of those hand warmers, stuffed one into each side of her bra, two into her pants, and waited as they warmed her up like tiny miracles.
Najee had also sent a throw blanket. But not just any blanket.
This one was soft in that quiet, masculine way that made you want to curl into it without thinking.
It looked like it belonged in somebody’s lake house, draped over a leather armchair in front of a fireplace.
Jackie could tell it was expensive, nothing about the throw screamed T.J.
Maxx or Target. Still, she wrapped herself in it and tried her hardest to ignore the fact that the blanket still carried a scent.
His scent. Najee had also sent enough lunch in the cooler to feed half the team.
Jackie was hoping to salvage a little of it for dinner, but the cooler barely lasted an hour once Fat Daddy started dragging random kids over to eat.
“Mom, he ain’t bring nothing. Mommy, this my friend…
Mommy, we got extra?” Jackie gave it all away, because for once, it felt good not to be the parent scrambling.
She had more than enough to share, and the look on those little boys’ faces when she handed them something to eat?
That did something to her chest she couldn’t quite name.
Jackie tried to tell herself it wasn’t that deep, that she was just paying it forward and being a resource.
But she knew good and damn well she wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without that FaceTime call.
Without him. It was then Jackie opened her phone, snapped a quick selfie wrapped in the blanket, and posted it to her Instagram story with a caption that read: Just what the doctor ordered.
She stared at the screen for a second longer than she meant to, her thumb hovering like she might send it directly to Najee too.
Just a little “look what you did” text. But before the thought could settle, a long wave of applause rippled through the bleachers as another drill wrapped.
Jackie’s eyes drifted across the crowd again, and that’s when she saw her.
Zambia. Jackie hadn’t seen that heffa since that night at the club.
And if she were being honest? A small, immature part of her still wanted to gangsta lean that bitch.
But Jackie knew better, because the person she was really mad at wasn’t even Zambia at all.
It was him… Cassius. Her gaze slipped right over Zambia, and there he was, standing on the field like he owned it.
Because technically… he did. He was dressed casual but polished.
Black hoodie. Fitted joggers. Fresh sneakers.
Something expensive on his wrist. His posture was easy and relaxed.
But his eyes? His eyes were scanning. Watching everything and everyone.
And for a split second, just one, they locked, and the air shifted.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod, didn’t even acknowledge her in any obvious way.
But his eyes lifted, and that was enough.
Jackie looked away first. Because she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing anything on her face.
She’d spent too many nights replaying that club scene in her head.
Too many nights pretending she didn’t care.
But the truth? She cared. And once upon a time, she thought he cared too.
At least enough to see her. The real her. Now she knew better.
Still, watching him, surrounded by cameras and limelight, with Zambia hovering not too far behind…
Jackie felt like an idiot for ever allowing herself to believe that.
“Mommy! Did you see that?!” Max yelled, sprinting toward her and snapping her back to reality.
Jackie blinked and mustered a tired smile.
“And did!” she called out, standing to clap.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Big Max, not the little one.
” Max beamed before burying his little body into hers.
And in that moment, Jackie realized nothing else mattered.
Not Zambia, not Cash, and not even her raggedy-ass car that had been on her mind since the last whistle.
Just her son, and his happiness. Jackie let out a deep breath, and for a few seconds, she let herself stay right there in it.
Ignored the noise of the field and just held her son.
When practice finally ended, and the crowd started thinning out.
Jackie walked toward the field just as Cash was finishing up with Max.
“Mommy, Coach Cash said I did good today and I listened. Can we get ramen on the way home?” Jackie kept her face neutral, even though her heart was beating too fast. “We’ll see,” she said, ruffling his helmet hair before he broke away and ran toward a crowd of his teammates.
For a moment, it was just her and Cash standing there.
A tight silence slipped between them. Cash exhaled, the sound low and tired.
“Max did real good today,” he said finally.
“He listened, followed directions, and helped his teammates.” Jackie nodded, her pulse kicking up despite herself.
“That’s good.” Another uneasy silence settled in before he spoke again. “Look… about that night,” he started. Then paused. “I fucked up.” Their eyes met. “I should’ve deaded it, but—”
“But you didn’t,” Jackie cut in. It came out sharper than she intended. Cash looked like he was about to say something else when Max came barreling back toward them. “Mommy, can I please play in the leaves before we leave? The big pile by the car?” Jackie blinked, grateful for the interruption.
“Yeah. Go get your stuff first,” Jackie responded, as a small breath slipped out of her chest as Max took off again.
“Don’t bring this back on my field again, Max,” Cash said, reaching into his pocket and handing Fat Daddy back his beat-up iPhone.
“I won’t, Coach!” Fat Daddy promised, just as Jackie shot him a look.
“I thought I told you to leave that in the car, Maximus.” He gave her that quick, sheepish half-smile he used when he knew his little ass was caught.
That was when Cash’s eyes met hers again.
They shared one last look. Brief and weighted.
Almost like he wanted to say more but couldn’t.
Jackie broke the gaze first, then grabbed Fat Daddy’s hand and turned to leave.