CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
JACKIE
All Jackie heard was you can’t stay at your house anymore.
The words hit her like a slap she saw coming but still couldn’t dodge.
She sat frozen in the passenger seat, the truck’s heat blasting against her bare thighs, the leather dress suddenly feeling too tight, too short, too everything.
Her heart started doing that thing it did when fear crept in.
She felt her old armor sliding into place before she could stop it.
Anger. It was always the easiest thing to grab.
She stared straight ahead through the windshield, watching the city lights smear across the glass, but all she could see was that old North Philly rowhouse.
The only home she ever had. The same house she fought tooth and nail to keep after Max Sr.’s family tried to take everything.
The one that had given her and her boys shelter when she had nothing and no one else.
The only thing in this world that truly belonged to her.
The pipes were ancient, the basement had seen better days, but it was hers.
The first thing she’d ever owned outright.
The one place where no one could tell her she didn’t belong.
The one place where she could just be Jackie.
And now Najee was telling her she couldn’t stay there anymore.
She felt the words rising before she could swallow them. “You got me fucked up,” she snapped.
“Take me home.” Her voice came out sharper than she meant it to.
“So this was the news? You just decide I can’t stay in my own damn house? Because what? It’s cold? Like it’s that simple?” Najee kept one hand on the wheel, the other still resting on her thigh. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t snap back. He just glanced over at her, calm as ever. “Jackie—”
“No.” She cut him off, the anger bubbling up hot and fast. “You don’t get to do that.
You don’t get to roll up in here, drop off some dick, pay for some dinner, and then tell me I gotta leave the only thing I got that’s mine.
I fought for that house. I cried in that house.
I raised my sons in that house when everybody else tried to take them from me.
And now you just… what? Decide it’s not good enough? ”
Her chest was tight. Her hands were shaking.
She hated how small she felt saying it out loud, but the fear was louder than the shame right now.
Najee pulled the truck over slowly, parking on a quiet side street.
He turned the engine off but left the heat running.
Then he shifted in his seat so he was facing her fully.
He didn’t look mad. He didn’t look sorry, either.
He just looked at her — steady, patient, like he had all the time in the world to wait for her to stop swinging.
“I’m not saying it’s not good enough,” he said quietly.
“I’m saying it’s not safe. Not for you. Not for Max.
I had an expert come in and not only did he find issues with the hot water heater.
He found black mold, foundational issues, old pipes and other issues.
The good news is everything is fixable, babe.
You just can’t be in there. Look, I believe the house is trying to tell you something, Jackie.
And you not listening. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you ignore it just because you’re scared to let somebody help. ”
Jackie laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Scared? You think this is about me being scared? This is about me knowing how this shit goes. People come in talking about ‘helping’ and the next thing I know I’m the one with nothing again.
I’ve been here before, Najee. I had a whole life with my late fiancé, and they took every piece of it.
Then Marcus took my son from me. After taking everything the fuck else.
People are always taking things from me.
All I had left was that house. And now you’re telling me I can’t even have that?
” Her voice cracked on the last word. She hated it.
For a second she wanted to snatch her hand back, open the door, and walk the rest of the way home just to prove she still could.
She hated that she was sitting here in a three-hundred-dollar dress, in a Porsche truck, with a man who kept trying to take care of her, and all she could do was push back like she was still twenty-eight years old, rocking a four-month-old in a cold living room with nowhere else to go.
Najee reached over and took her hand. He didn’t squeeze hard.
He just held it, thumb brushing slow circles over her knuckles like he was trying to steady her heartbeat.
“Baby, I’m not them,” he said, voice low and even.
“I’m not trying to take anything from you, Jackie.
I’m trying to make sure you and your boys have something better and safer.
Something that doesn’t make you fight every single day just to keep the heat on.
“She looked away, eyes stinging. “I know it’s hard to let somebody in,” he continued, still holding her hand.
“I see you, baby. I see how much you’ve had to carry by yourself.
How much you’ve had to fight for. And I’m not asking you to stop being strong.
I’m just asking you to let me stand next to you while you do it.
” Jackie’s throat felt tight. She wanted to snap back.
Wanted to tell him she didn’t need saving.
Wanted to remind him she had been doing this shit alone for years and she was still standing.
But the fight was draining out of her, replaced by something heavier — something that felt a lot like relief and terror at the same time.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.
“I don’t know how to let somebody take care of me without feeling like the other shoe gone drop.
” Najee leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her temple, then rested his forehead against hers.
“Baby, I’m here for the long haul,” he murmured.
“You’re letting somebody see you. All of you.
And I’m still here, Jackie. I’m not going anywhere.
” She closed her eyes, letting his words settle over her like a blanket.
The anger was still there, simmering low, but it wasn’t swallowing her whole anymore.
It was then, she could finally hear him.
“So are you going to come upstairs and see the apartment?” he asked gently.
Jackie looked up at him, closed her eyes for a second, then nodded her head yes.