CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
JACKIE
The water hit Jackie like a reset.
Hot and steady, pouring down in a way that made everything else fade into the background. Jackie stood under the stream with her eyes closed, letting it run over her face, her shoulders, her chest, like it was peeling the day off her in layers she hadn’t even realized she was carrying.
For the first time all day, she felt herself soften.
Not just physically, but mentally too. Her head tipped back slightly as the pressure worked down her neck and along her spine, settling into muscles that had been tight for hours.
The shower was perfect for more reasons than one.
Which is probably why she ended up standing there a lot longer than she needed to. A slow breath slipped from her lips.
The sake was still in her system. Not heavy, but enough to sit low in her stomach, calm and even, and that softened the edges of everything.
It made her body feel lighter, more aware, like she could actually feel herself again.
Jackie shifted beneath the water, turning slightly to let it hit somewhere new, one hand braced against the tile.
Her breath caught softly, and before she could stop it, her mind drifted to him.
Cash. To the way he’d watched her on that couch.
Not casually or out of courtesy. But with a quiet intent she could no longer dismiss as something she’d imagined.
Jackie swallowed, her fingers pressing harder into the tile because she recognized that look for exactly what it was.
Want. And it did something to her. Something she wasn’t ready to examine tonight.
Because if she were being honest, Jackie liked feeling wanted.
Not needed. Not relied on. But wanted. Her eyes closed again as the water slid down her body, and her breath evened out slowly.
She knew she should’ve called a locksmith and taken Max home.
It would’ve been inconvenient as fuck, but it would’ve made sense.
Instead, it was after midnight, Max was asleep in Cash’s guest room, and she was naked in his shower trying not to think too hard about why she hadn’t left.
At the same time, she was actively trying to suppress her intuition that was telling her to take her ass home.
Just then her thoughts began to shift, and all she could hear was his voice.
Najee. And the way he spoke to her. She could still feel the weight of his words.
This ain’t the doctor talking to you. This the man.
Jackie exhaled slowly, her head dipping forward beneath the spray.
The sake had lowered her guard in the worst way, leaving her too aware of the tension simmering beneath her skin.
And that was the whole problem because if she was keeping it real?
The last time she felt this seen… this turned on…
and this wanted—had been with him. Her thighs pressed together instinctively at the memory, and Jackie let out a quiet curse beneath her breath.
Meanwhile, she was slightly drunk, emotionally open—and low-key hoping lightning would strike twice.
Maybe she was messy, because Najee felt safe, and not just in a boring way.
But in a clear say what you mean and mean what you say—kind of way.
And still… here she was. In his cousin’s shower.
Thinking about both men at the same damn time.
Jackie reached for the body wash, working it over her skin slower than necessary, her movements unhurried.
“You need to leave,” she muttered to herself.
But of course, there was zero conviction behind her words.
Her body was buzzing, and her heart was actively ignoring her head.
There was something unspoken and inevitable in the air and Jackie was tired of ignoring it.
She was used to doing things for the plot.
Tonight, she wanted to do something for her.
Even if it was a little reckless. The sake had her comfortable.
So comfortable Jackie was willing to cross a line that she would otherwise never even stand next to.
She stepped back beneath the stream, allowing the water to rinse over her skin, in hopes it would wash away these feelings—but it didn’t.
If anything, it only made her more aware of it.
Because this wasn’t just physical. It was tension wrapped in need.
And whether Jackie wanted to acknowledge it or not, she was making a choice by staying.
A choice she probably wouldn’t be able to walk back from once she stepped out that bathroom.
And Jackie didn’t know if that scared her or turned her on more.
It was well past one in the morning when Jackie stepped out the shower.
Thick steam drifted through the bathroom, fogging the mirrors and blurring everything around her.
The sake was still humming low beneath her skin.
She wasn’t drunk, but it did leave her warm, relaxed and detached.
So detached the entire night began to feel slightly unreal.
She reached automatically for the towel waiting inside the warmer.
Because of course this nigga had a towel warmer.
The floors were heated too, warming the bottoms of her feet the second she stepped onto the tile.
Quietly, Jackie made her way down the hallway toward the guest room Cash had pointed out earlier.
The second she stepped inside, something in her slowed.
The room looked different from the rest of the condo.
The difference wasn’t drastic. Still, something made Jackie’s Spidey senses tingle. This space felt softer, warmer and more lived in somehow. Nothing like the room Max was sleeping in. Now, that room matched the aesthetic of the condo. It was masculine, sleek, and fit the overall vibe of the home.
This room was different. Feminine in a way Jackie couldn’t quite put her finger on.
There was a Herme’s throw blanket folded across the foot of the bed, candles lined neatly along one shelf, and a faint scent of something fragrant woven into the room itself.
Jackie could smell the notes of Jasmine, Saffron and Amber the moment she entered.
The scent was lingering in that deep way certain expensive perfumes always were.
Jackie’s eyes narrowed slightly, because this smell didn’t feel accidental…
it felt embedded. Like it was a part of the rooms DNA.
Jackie tried to dismiss the thought as her eyes drifted toward the clothes folded neatly at the foot of the bed.
Cash had laid out a crisp white wife beater fresh out the pack, a printed pair of Ethika boxers, and a black silk bonnet laid out neatly like he’d planned this ahead of time.
Jackie paused, before glancing toward the top of the dresser.
A partially used container of Cecred hair oil was placed next to an unopened jar of Youth To the People moisturizer, a straightening brush, and a silk scrunchie.
Little things. Womanly things. Details that instantly shifted the energy of the room.
Cash told her Zambia didn’t come here, and maybe she didn’t, but this room still carried traces of a woman somewhere in it.
It wasn’t obvious, yet in certain elements felt intentional instead of decorative.
The realization didn’t hit hard enough to ruin the night, but it did clear some of the haze she’d been floating around in since dinner.
Still, Jackie reached for the moisturizer anyway, rubbing it slowly into her skin and glancing in the dresser mirror before pausing.
What in the Goldilocks are you doing? Jackie closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.
She knew what it look like. Knew what it smelled like.
And for one weak second, Jackie understood exactly how women talked themselves into staying places they had no business getting comfortable in.
Jackie did an about face before slipping into the wife beater that hugged her body just enough to make her pause.
She glanced back at the Ethikas and decided it would be a no panties kind of night.
Just then her phone buzzed against the window seal, and it was him.
Najee. Immediately, something in her chest tightened.
She picked the phone up slowly. Najee: Brunch in the morning. Me, you, and Max?
Jackie stared at the message quietly, while the room around her suddenly felt smaller and more closed in. Her eyes lifted toward the mirror again before drifting back toward the dresser, toward the expensive skincare and the little traces of another woman’s presence she couldn’t help but notice.
The sake was wearing off fast, and Jackie was finally seeing the small traces of for reality finally settle in around the edges.
That should’ve made her want to leave. Instead, Jackie set her phone back down on the dresser without responding and turned toward the bedroom door anyway.
The hallway was quiet when she stepped out…
too quiet. Jackie closed the guest room door behind her, bare feet soft against the floor, the air cooler now that she was out of the room.
The wife beater hung low against her thighs, her skin still warm, still sensitive, still carrying that soft buzz from the shower and everything else.
Her heart beat a little louder than it should’ve as she moved down the hall, slower than necessary, like she was giving herself time to think.
Or turnaround. She didn’t. Because the truth was, she had already made the decision the moment she walked out that room. Even if she hadn’t said it aloud.
Jackies fingers brushed lightly against her thigh as she walked, her breath steady but just a little deeper than normal.
She knew what she was doing. And she knew she shouldn’t be doing it.
Tonight though, she didn’t feel like being the careful one.
The one who always pulled herself back before something could even start.
She deserved to feel something too. Even if was temporary.
Jackie exhaled slowly as she reached the end of the hallway, her steps quiet as she turned the corner toward the living room.
And then— she heard it. A voice, sharp, familiar, and angry. Zambia.
“I know she in here, Cash.” Zambia yelled. Jackie froze. Her body went still before her mind could catch up. Cash’s voice followed, lower and more controlled. “You can’t be serious.” Jackie didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stood there listening. “You’re sloppy as fuck,” Zambia snapped. “
You move how you want, when you want, and I’m just supposed to what?
Accept it?” Jackie’s fingers curled slightly at her sides.
Because suddenly— everything she had been feeling all night—shifted that instant.
“And what is it you think I’m doing?” Cash asked.
His tone didn’t rise. But something in it hardened.
“Don’t do that,” Zambia shot back. “Don’t act slow with me.
” Jackie took a small step back instinctively, her shoulder brushing lightly against the wall as she stayed just out of view.
Hidden. But not gone. Jackie swallowed. Because now—she could see it.
Cash stood in the doorway. Blocking the entrance.
Zambia just outside of it in the hall, her posture tight, her presence loud even without stepping fully inside.
He hadn’t let her in. That much was clear.
But he also hadn’t shut it down or ended it.
He hadn’t chosen anything. And that…felt familiar.
“Somebody called me,” Zambia went on, her voice cutting through the space.
“Told me you got that bitch and her kid up in here.” Jackie’s breath caught.
Her stomach dropped straight through her feet.
“She lying?” Zambia pressed. Cash didn’t answer right away.
And that silence—said enough. Jackie’s fingers curled tighter at her sides as heat rushed up her chest. She wanted to show herself because she felt like a coward hiding in this hallway.
But she knew she was wrong, and despite all the things he said to make her comfortable.
She knew better. That soft, reckless feeling from earlier?
Gone. Now replaced with something much heavier and sharper. Guilt.