Look Out For Her
alyssa
It had been two weeks since Micah and I had loaded my car and pointed it South. We were staying at Simone and Raschad's place while I house-hunted, registered Micah for school, and learned the lay of the land of Lennox Falls.
It was Sunday, which I was learning meant Sunday dinner, apparently a standing Wade family appointment that rotated among different homes. Today was Simone's day to host, which meant a whole house full of Wades.
Music played low while Zaria got passed from hip to hip between Simone, Taryn, their Aunt Lorraine, and me as we worked in the kitchen. Micah and Zhaire had been chasing each other through the house for hours and were not showing any sign of slowing. Outside the men were grilling and hanging out.
“Alyssa, do me a favor.” Simone handed me a sheet pan. “Go see if any of the meat's ready. They out there talking instead of cooking.”
“Sure.” I took the pan and went out the sliding doors, and smoke and laughter flooded in. Tre was clowning Zion, Zion was clowning Tre, Raschad was laughing at both of them, while their Uncle Reggie shook his head, and over at the grill was Julian.
He was wearing a black tee and black joggers.
He had the kind of build a man only kept in his thirties if he was deliberate about maintaining it.
Tall with broad shoulders and chest, and leaner through the waist. His beard was lined up sharp and his hair was fresh in a low fade with slight waves.
He had the tongs in one hand, his rich brown forearms shining and flexing as he flipped the meat over.
His eyes found me. “Ms. Carter.”
“Mr. Suit and Tie,” I said, just to mess with him. “No tie today, though. I'm almost disappointed.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. For Julian, I had realized that twitch was basically a belly laugh. He looked at me. Or really, at my hair.
“You change your hair often,” he said offhandedly.
I raised my eyebrows. “You noticed?”
“Yes.”
His no-nonsense tone made me stand a little straighter. I brushed a braid over my shoulder. “Well, getting my hair done is one thing I don’t compromise on anymore.”
He gave me a nod. “Looks nice.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful to God for my brown skin, which meant he couldn’t tell a simple two-word compliment made me blush.
Dinner was loud. Plates passing, kids shouting, the men arguing about sports.
Every now and then I felt Julian's eyes. Not all over me, but like he was clocking me. I still felt bad about how I’d acted at football practice that time, and although I had apologized, I wondered if he still felt some kind of way about it.
After we ate, the house exhaled. The kids migrated to the game console. Zion started a dominoes game and he, Raschad, and Tre were talking trash. I stepped out to the back steps with a glass of water and enjoyed the quiet.
“Too much for you?” Julian’s deep voice from behind startled me.
“I like the noise,” I said, not turning around. “Means people are living.”
He came down the steps and stood beside me, with a considerate distance that made me more aware of him.
“You settling in okay?” he asked.
“As settled in as I can be still living with my suitcase open.” I sighed.
“Raschad and Simone say I can stay here as long as I need to, but I’m hoping to find a place in the next couple of weeks.
Rent for a while, before finding something permanent.
They want us here, but they're newlyweds with two kids. They need to find their rhythm without us around.”
He nodded. “Looking for a place near the school?”
“Somewhere safe. Quiet. A lot of natural light. But I’m not picky.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s true,” he said, completely straight-faced.
I laughed. “Okay, I'm…particular. About certain things.”
“Safety. Peace. Lighting.”
“And a decent bathtub,” I added. “A girl needs to be able to soak.”
“Noted,” he said, like he was internally filing.
We were quiet a moment. The cicadas turned up, and inside, someone yelled like a felony had been committed at the card table.
“Coach Julian!” Micah barreled through the door, socks half off, hairline sweaty. He stopped at the top of the steps, glancing between us like he'd interrupted state secrets. “They cheating!”
“Who is 'they'?” Julian asked.
“Zhaire and Mister Tre,” Micah said gravely. “They the worst cheaters. Smiling ones.”
Julian's mouth did that almost-smile again. “Let's go fix that.”
Micah's eyes flicked to me. “Hi Mommy!”He nodded hard at me then ran back inside. Julian didn't move.
“He calls you Coach Julian,” I said, amused.
“For now,” he replied simply.
He started to head inside then stopped to look at me. “So you're looking for a place. I will send you some options to consider.”
“CEO, Coach, and a realtor too?” I teased.
“Not a realtor. Real estate investor.” He sounded unfazed. “I know people. It's easy.”
“I appreciate that, Julian, but I know you're a busy man. Don't worry about it. I'm sure I'll be able to find something.”
“I'm sending them,” he said in a flat, firm tone. Like he was telling me he’d made a decision and that was that.
Who does he think he is? The boss of me? I had some choice words ready. But he was just standing there looking at me. Studying me. It threw me off so much that the words I had been about to deliver were not in my mouth.
“Okay,” I heard myself say. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Taryn's voice floated out: “Alyssa! You sitting out on the next round or what?”
“I'm coming!” I said, standing up, which put me directly in front of him.
“Send me your must-haves. Leave nothing out.” He stepped to the side, clearing my path to the sliders.
“You already got them.” I smiled, stepping past him to go inside. “Locks. Lighting. Bathtub.”
Behind me I heard the smallest sound that might've been a laugh.
julian
The noise inside Simone’s house was thick, pots banging, water running, Simone and Alyssa fussing over who was going to do the dishes. Taryn talking over everybody, like always.
I slipped out to the porch for some air. Raschad was already there, leaning on the railing with a beer in his hand, watching Micah and Zhaire chase each other around the yard. He glanced at me when the door closed behind me, with a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“So. You and Alyssa good now, after she lit into you at practice?”
I settled beside him. “Water under the bridge. I wasn’t offended.”
He huffed a laugh. “She doesn't hold back. Don't take it personal. Alyssa's been through heavy shit. That's just armor.”
Raschad took a long pull from his beer. The silence stretched comfortable between us, filled with the sound of the boys laughing.
“You know she's a widow,” he said quietly.
I didn’t turn my head.
“Husband was killed a few years back. Messy situation.”
I kept my eyes on the boys in the yard.
He shook his head. “Man was a snake. Cheating, stealing, living a whole double life. She found out the worst way possible. Cops at her door. News crews camping out front. Her whole life turned into gossip for people who never met her.”
My grip on the railing became tighter. I made it loosen and took a slow breath in through my nose. Let it out the same way. I didn't know what to do with the fact that this was making me angry when I hardly knew her.
“Took some convincing,” Raschad said. “But now she's here. She needed to get out of Jersey. Start fresh, find her footing.” He shook his head. “She's stubborn as hell, Jules. Got a lot of pride. Too much of it sometimes. She'll never ask for help, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need it.”
I nodded, still saying nothing.
“I'm telling you all this because I might need your help.”
I looked at him. “Help with what?”
“You know I got that NBA season commentating gig.
It's gonna have me traveling a lot over the next few months, two weeks at a time, sometimes. I know you, Zion, and Tre will look out for Simone and the kids whenever they can't travel with me.” He looked at me sideways. “But… if you don't mind, I’d appreciate it if you could look out for Alyssa and Micah too? Help her get settled, check in to make sure she’s not drowning trying to do everything alone.”
I had no business feeling happy that another man was asking me to look after his sister. “Not a problem. I can handle it.”
He nodded like he’d expected my response, but I could see the relief settle into his shoulders anyway. “Appreciate it, Jules. And I'll talk to her. Make her promise not to cuss you out again.”
“I can handle that too.”
He grinned, “I know you can.”
My house was too quiet when I got back. Normally I liked that.
Peace and quiet were my favorite sounds, but tonight my mind was running laps.
Raschad's words stayed with me. Widow. News crews.
He'd said it like it was common knowledge I should've already known.
I didn't. And now, I couldn't stop thinking about it.
I pulled out my phone, told myself not to, then I typed her name in the search anyway. The first headline popped up:
Attorney's Husband Killed in Cheating-Murder Scandal.
I sat forward. The story laid itself out in pieces over the next hour as I kept scrolling through articles.
Her husband shot in his mistress's bed. The mistress's husband on trial. The bank embezzlement and fraud. The five women who came forward in the months after, exposing him as a systematic predator. He’d used his position to seduce and exploit female employees across branches, embezzling nearly two million dollars.
The nickname the press gave him: The Corporate Casanova.
The deeper I scrolled, the worse it got.
Years of Alyssa’s life turned into public entertainment.
I came across a photo of Alyssa, standing somewhere with cameras in her face, and Micah clinging to her side.
Her eyes were dark, face carved out of stone, holding it together.
Every story said the same thing when it came to her. Alyssa Carter declined to comment.
She never said a word. Not once.
The financial fallout was devastating. Crime clips on YouTube showed her husband had forged her signature on loans, credit cards, and property, destroying her credit, leaving her with hundreds of thousands in debt. A trail of financial abuse that continued even after he was dead.
Having seen enough, I set my phone down and leaned back on my couch. She'd been through hell. Publicly. Had her marriage dissected by strangers, her judgment questioned, and her trauma turned into entertainment.
Yet she'd carried it all without breaking. She survived it and was coming out the other side. Moved to a new place to give her kid a normal childhood, away from the whispers and the true-crime enthusiasts who treated her pain like a hobby.
I could see her again on that field standing there with fire in her eyes. I'd thought it was audacity. Now I realized it was something else entirely. That wasn't a simple attitude. That was armor forged by fire.
I picked up my phone again and pulled up my thread with my assistant.
I need a list of available rentals in the area. Family-friendly. Secure. Safe area. Reach out to Cheryl over at LF Realty
Then I opened my contacts and found a lawyer I knew.
Any firms you know of in the area hiring? Civil rights, public interest, family law.
She hadn't asked for any of this. But knowing what she’d been through, and the way she'd carried herself, got to me.
Years of cameras in her face and gossip and not one comment. She’d buried her husband, gathered her son, and kept her head up, never letting any vulture put words in her mouth about what she had survived.
Some people lose what she lost and never come back from it. I have seen it. Watched a man go under the surface of a kitchen floor and never come back up. Seen grief and loss eat a person from the inside until there was nothing left but an empty shell.
But she buried what she had to bury and she kept going. I recognized the shape of that. Respected that. The decision you make in the midst of the worst thing that has ever happened to you: that the only thing you owe it is your survival. I’d been walking that line since I was nineteen years old.
I closed my eyes. I had not let myself think about it in a long time. Tonight it came up anyway, and memories began to surface.