Chapter 8
BAM-BAM-BAM!
The door rattled in its frame, and I shot up so fast my neck cracked. I pressed my palm flat against my chest where my heart thrashed against its cage, and glanced at my phone on the floor beside me.
The only soul on this earth who knew my address was Mrs. Mary, my ex-boyfriend’s mom. She wouldn’t come here at this hour.
Nobody had a reason to be at my door.
A moment later, while I was still trying to reacclimate to the world, I had the sudden urge to move. I stood, back aching as I cautiously walked through the dark apartment without turning on any lights. It was empty, so I didn’t have to worry about hurting myself.
At the door, I lifted on my tiptoes to look through the peephole. Someone was there, but I couldn’t make out much. Just a silhouette with broad shoulders, and a back wide enough that I could stretch my arms across it.
Could it be?
I shook my head. Nah. I never told him where I lived. But did I really have to?
That answer was no. Booda had a way of getting his hands on whatever information he wanted. I knew that, so his being on my doorstep shouldn’t come as much of a surprise.
“Who is it?” I called out, my hand on the doorknob.
“Open the door, Koko,” Booda replied, and through the peephole, I watched his shape shift closer to the door as if he leaned into it.
I froze as longing, love, anger, resentment, and the bitter sting of abandonment all fought for dominance. I loved him, but I hated him. I trusted him, but then again, I didn’t. Part of me wanted to let him in, and the other part wanted to leave him out to dry the same way he’d done me.
Booda must’ve felt my spirit because as soon as I made up my mind to walk away, he said, “I knocked out of respect. Let me in.”
I leaned my forehead against the door, my breath spiking. Hearing his voice cracked open doors I’d spent forever trying to seal shut. Made me forget he left me wondering if I was crazy for ever believing anything he’d ever said.
But I had to stand my ground. No more settling for scraps when I deserved the whole damn meal. I'd spent too many years putting Booda, with his sweet talk and promises, ahead of my own needs.
Those days were done. Weren't they? The woman standing here now was worth more than diamonds. At least that was what I told myself each morning. I was priceless, and it was time I treated myself that way.
"Go away," I said firmly, my voice betraying none of the war inside me.
“That’s not an option. You know I don’t move like that. Not when it comes to you. You still got all of me,” he said, and my treacherous fingers inched toward the deadbolt, muscle memory from all those times I'd welcomed him back.
Then, I remembered the loneliness I’ve felt over these past few months, and quickly snapped out of it. My hand fell away from the lock, and I took a step back.
“I can’t let you back in.” I wasn’t speaking only about the door.
He exhaled. “I tried to leave you alone. Even told myself I was doing the right thing. I should let you breathe, let you have your space.”
“But that shit don’t sit right with me. You know I don’t do distance when it comes to you.”
I took a step forward. Then another, and my palms flattened against the door as I leaned into it.
“It don’t matter where I go, what I do, or who I’m around,” he continued. “Everything in me still points back to you. Every time.”
His voice dropped, and I could tell he’d also moved closer.
“I refuse to move through this life or the next without you. You’re where my soul rests… and it’ll never settle anywhere else.”
My chest tightened, breath coming slower, heavier.
“So no,” he whispered. “I’m not going nowhere. Not when it comes to you.”
Silence stretched, then—
“Koko. Please.”
Please? That word undid me faster than any amount of begging ever could. Booda never said please, not to anyone, not once in all the years I'd known him.
I felt myself unraveling at the seams, wanting desperately to believe that after all this time, I'd finally cracked his armor. But I still had to wonder what game he was playing now.
And why was I still so ready to lose?
Before I realized what I was doing, I unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door. Then, for a second, I just looked at him. Really—looked—at—him.
Booda hadn’t changed the way I had expected. He was still tall, still broad, and still sexy with an aura that made the air around him feel denser. His chest was stout, his arms thick, and his hoodie did nothing to hide it.
His skin carried that same melanin-rich tone, smooth even under the moonlight. His taper was sharp, his waves lay neatly, and the gray in his mustache and goatee added to his handsomeness instead of aging him.
Tattoos climbed his neck and disappeared under his sleeves, and when his mouth moved, that dimple showed. His brows were still thick, and his lashes were still longer than mine. And I was still jealous of them both.
He wore a blue hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and there was something dark on his sleeve that could’ve been anything. It wasn’t my business. I didn’t want to think about what.
He didn’t step forward. Didn’t say anything right away either. Just stood there looking at me, waiting for me to make the first move.
But that wasn’t how things worked.
I had spent months longing to feel his hands on my skin, his breath on my neck, and at the same time, I felt sorry for him. Even in the darkness, I could see the exhaustion etched into his face. His brows were drawn in, and his jaw clenched so tight I saw the muscle working underneath his skin.
I broke eye contact before I lost myself in him. I hadn’t sought him out. He’d landed on my doorstep. I shouldn’t have had to break the ice, but I knew if I didn’t get the ball rolling, we’d stand here looking at each other all night.
“What happened to you?” I asked without opening the door any wider.
Booda glanced over his shoulder down the breezeway behind him, then his eyes locked with mine for a heartbeat before scanning the darkness of my apartment beyond the crack in the door.
“We need to talk. Inside.” He looked back at me, his eyes slowly moving over my body as if he were taking inventory of every part of me.
“No.” I couldn’t give in too easily.
“Koko—”
“No! Get the hell away from me!” I shouted. “It’s four in the morning, and I’m exhausted.”
“Koko—”
“Save it!” I said, cutting him off before he could say anything more.
“I hurt you, and you obviously have questions. Move away from the door.”
I shook my head, still not ready for him to invade my space.
Booda never came empty-handed. He brought time. He brought attention. He stepped in before I finished figuring things out, and most of the time, he got it right. I didn’t have to chase him down or wonder where I stood. He made himself clear without making it a conversation.
Groceries showed up without a list. My car stayed full without me having to stop for gas. Small things, but they added up until I got used to not reaching for anything myself.
And that was the part I couldn’t trust.
The last time he decided he didn’t want to deal with me, he didn’t say it to my face. Matter fact, didn’t say anything at all. I got word by messenger.
I had to sit with that heartbreak while trying to figure out who I was. He and our relationship were all I remembered for months. Then, when I finally remembered his mother, she delivered a devastating blow at his request.
I never found the reason for his betrayal. There was no argument to point to, no line I could trace it back to. Just him, there one day, gone the next.
That wasn’t how he had ever handled me before.
And that was what stayed with me.
I had spent the next few months getting used to doing things on my own again. Making my own choices, even when they were small. Sitting in a quiet that didn’t come with somebody stepping in to fill it. It took time to get comfortable with that again.
If I opened that door, I knew how it would go.
He would walk in like nothing had changed. He would take over the room without asking. I would let him. Not because I had to, but because it felt easier than fighting him on it.
And I didn’t trust myself to stop once I started.
“How could you do me like that? I would’ve mopped the ocean with a napkin for you, and you knew it, but you still hurt me.”
Booda bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes glistened, and he lifted his hand as if he wanted to reach for me. Then, thought better of it and dropped it to his side. The emotions I’d seen had vanished as quickly as they had come.
That was the thing about Booda that always got under my skin. He had this way of absorbing his feelings without letting them touch him. He’d learned a long time ago that reacting to emotion was a waste of energy, so he never did.
“I know,” was all he said, and that pissed me off.
“Get the fuck away from my house. I hate you, nigga.”
“Man, stop. You and I both know that shit’s a lie.”
My eye twitched, and heat flooded my face. “Don’t fucking tell me how I feel!”
“I don’t gotta tell you. I can see it,” he said, his voice so calm it was like a balm to my soul.
“See what?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“How much you still want me.”
A bitter laugh pushed out of me before I could stop it. “You are one cocky muthafucka.”
His mouth curved into that subtle smile I used to crave, the one that dug that damn dimple into his cheek and melted my heart simultaneously.
“You love me.” His tongue dragged slowly across his bottom lip, and my knees grew so weak I had to lock them.
Damn.
I hated that.
Hated that something that small could still get to me.
And for a second… it did.
I felt that old pull. The familiarity of his presence made everything else blur around him.
It pissed me off just thinking about how weak he made me feel.
I shook my head, trying to knock my brain loose for even considering. “It wasn’t enough to keep you from disappearing on me.” The words came out low, but they carried.