CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
NAJEE
Najee leaned back against the headboard, plate balanced on his lap, watching Jackie destroy another chicken wing like it was her last meal on earth.
They had already gone three rounds. Back-to-back, no breaks, no mercy — and somehow, she still had the energy to fix him up a full Sunday feast at damn near dawn.
He would’ve normally been at the gym by now.
That was his usual rhythm. Up before the sun, cold shower, iron, discipline.
But last night that rhythm had been completely thrown off.
And for once he didn’t even mind. After the third round they had showered together, remade the bed with fresh sheets, and now here they were.
Tangled up under the covers, eating leftovers like they hadn’t just fucked each other senseless for hours.
Najee’s plate had stuffed chicken breast, roasted asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes, and two thick slices of lemon blueberry pound cake.
And of course, Jackie didn’t believe in microwaves.
“That shit causes cancer,” she explained seriously while heating everything up on the stove.
“Not to mention the food be petrified as hell. I told you, you didn’t have to come down here,” she added.
“It’s only gone take me ten minutes tops to heat this up. I know it’s cold down here.”
Najee leaned against the sink and stayed quiet, watching her talk fast.
That was her tell. Knowing Jackie, she was either lying or embarrassed.
He was betting on the ladder. The house was noticeably colder than it had been earlier.
He’d watched her drag a space heater into the bedroom, cursing under her breath the whole time.
Now, they were back in bed with full plates, the vibe felt delicate and domestic.
Especially with how she looked in that Moo-moo with nothing underneath.
Right now, she was rocking a purple satin bonnet, thick slouch socks, and those tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose while some old episode of Invincible played on the TV.
But Najee couldn’t let it ride forever. “Jack,” he said quietly, setting his plate on the nightstand.
“What’s going on with the heat?” She shrugged, not looking at him.
“It be acting up. My neighbor Juan knows how to play around with it.”
“The drunk old head from across the street?” Najee questioned.
“I thought he fixed cars.” Jackie paused. “He do.” Najee studied her profile.
“Does he specialize in HVAC or something?”
“No,” she said, then paused again. “But he fixes stuff.”
“Not anymore,” Najee said calmly. “I’m gone call my licensed HVAC guy later today and see what he can do.
” Jackie’s back stiffened slightly. He could feel her discomfort from across the bed.
That’s when he sat his fork down, moved closer, and pulled her back against his chest without a word.
His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her securely.
“Tell me what’s really on your mind,” he murmured against her ear, voice low and steady.
Jackie remained silent for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh.
“I don’t want to be a burden,” she said quietly.
“And I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. ”
Najee turned her gently in his arms until she was facing him.
“Look at me.” She didn’t at first, but eventually she looked up.
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Jackie,” he said, eyes locked on hers.
“I admire you. You’ve been able to survive, maintain, and thrive despite everything life has thrown your way.
You are one of the strongest women I know.
” He brushed his thumb across her cheek.
“But in this moment? Your strength is not needed. I want you rested and relaxed. You don’t have to figure anything out.
That’s for me. Okay?” She nodded, eyes soft.
Najee leaned down and kissed her deep, slow, and thorough—the kind of kiss that said everything he didn’t need to repeat.
When he finally pulled back, a playful smirk tugged at his lips.
“Now we gone finish watching this violent ass cartoon you seem to like,” he said, voice dropping lower.
“Then I’m gone go do the dishes. And by the time I come back…
you better be ready to ride this dick. He slapped her ass hard enough to make it jiggle.
“You told me you needed an hour. I gave you two. Now I need dat.”
Jackie let out a surprised laugh, eyes sparkling with that mix of mischief and desire
“Yes, Dr. Amin-Rashid,” she said playfully. “Say that shit again,” he growled, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her in for another kiss. “Dr. Nigel… fuck.”