Chapter 8 #2
Booda gazed at me, his eyes clear and focused, seeming to pierce through me and see all of my thoughts and emotions. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and fear at the power he held in that one look.
“Let that shit go so we can move forward,” he said.
My head snapped back. “Let it go?” I let out a short laugh, trying hard to keep my composure. “I woke up in a hospital bed by myself, Booda. All I had was you, and you know that! I have a reason to be pissed.”
“Be pissed! I won’t take that away from you. But you know damn well if I could’ve been there, I would’ve.”
I held his gaze, searching for something to tear into.
He closed the space between us, not touching me… but close enough that I felt him.
“Knowing that doesn’t make things better,” I shot back.
“I’m not tryna make things better. I’m just tryna talk to you.”
“Talking won’t erase anything.”
“It won’t. But it’s a start. Let me mend what I broke.”
“You shouldn’t have to mend it,” I replied weakly, feeling my resolve slowly melting away.
“Some of that was outta my hands… but this right here ain’t.” He gently slid his knuckles down the side of my face before cupping my cheek. “I miss you, baby. Talk to me.”
“Don’t,” I warned, even though I didn’t move away.
“Don’t what?” he asked.
“Don’t say things like that… or—”
“Or what?” he cut in. “Talk to you? That’s all I’m doing. I’m right here, Koko.”
The words sat between us, and I tightened my hold on the door like that alone was enough to keep me from doing something stupid.
I was supposed to be done.
Mad.
Over him.
But my body didn’t move.
Not back.
Not forward.
Just… there.
His eyes stayed on mine, not rushing me, not pushing either.
Just waiting.
He already knew how this was about to go, and I hated that too.
I exhaled slowly, my grip on everything, this conversation, the door, loosening just a little.
Because he wasn’t trying to argue me down.
Wasn’t trying to convince me.
He was just there.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
My hand dropped from the door, and before I could think too hard about it… I stepped back.
Just one step.
But it was enough.
He walked in like this was where he belonged. And just like that, everything I’d been holding together started slipping.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I stayed right where I was, facing forward, even though I felt him all over me: at my back, my side, everywhere. Smothering.
Too close.
“You can back up,” I said, my voice steady in a way I no longer felt.
“I could,” he replied, but didn’t move.
I turned to get away and walked straight into him. My breath caught, and I leaned into him, my body reacting faster than my mind could catch up.
His eyes dropped to my mouth for a second, and that alone was enough to make my knees lock in place.
Damn.
I folded my arms across my chest, more for myself than for him. “You doing a lot.”
“I ain’t doing nothing,” he said, his deep, sultry voice wrapping around me in a way I hadn’t felt in too long.
My chest rose and fell slower this time, but it didn’t steady, not with him standing there, not with the way his attention stayed fixed on me.
“Stop,” I muttered.
“Stop what?”
“This,” I said, even though I hadn’t walked away, hadn’t created any space between us, hadn’t done anything I knew I should have.
His hand came up, and when his fingers brushed my wrist, light as it was, it still hit too hard.
My body trembled, a current of electricity awakening parts of me I'd forgotten existed. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, his thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling the rapid beating there.
"You're still here," he said, his voice soft with wonder.
I snatched my arm away, taking a step back to create some space between us. "Of course I'm still here. Where else would I be?"
He didn't answer, just watched me with those eyes that always saw too much.
"Why now?" I asked, hating the crack in my voice. "Why contact me after all this time?"
Booda glanced toward my kitchen, then back at me. "You got anything to drink?"
I scoffed. "You not gon’ answer me?"
"I will," he said, brushing past me into the kitchen.
I turned and followed behind him, stopping at the threshold to watch him watch me.
“You gon’ stand there and look at me, or you gon’ get that drink I asked for?” He asked, flashing me a cocky smirk.
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, opened it, and drank half before setting it on the counter. Fuck him. I wasn’t handing it to him, and I didn’t want to quench his thirst, only wet his whistle.
Satisfied with myself, I leaned against the counter, arms folded tight across my chest as he looked at the bottle of water, then at me.
“Well? You got your drink. Talk. I need to understand why you abandoned me.”
He let out a hard breath and dragged his hand down his face. “I ain’t abandon you.”
“That’s what it felt like,” I shot back. “And last time I checked, that’s all that matters.”
“My momma told you what it was. I know she did.”
“She didn’t tell me why I couldn’t talk to you,” I said. “Or see you.”
“What would that have done? You think hearing my voice would’ve made that situation better?”
“It would’ve made it make sense.”
“Some things ain’t meant to make sense.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He paused for a moment, staring off into space as if he was thinking about what he wanted to say next.
Then…
“You still breathing,” he said, completely off subject.
My brows pulled together. “What?”
“You woke up. That’s what matters most.”
He gazed at me, and the look in his eyes threw me off.
“That don’t have anything to do with what I asked you.”
“It got everything to do with it,” he said. “Fuck worrying about me abandoning you, let’s talk about what led up to it.”
My jaw tightened. “I remember.”
“Nah. I don’t think you do. You was out for a minute,” he said, quiet but firm.
I stared at him. “So what? You think I’m dumb now?”
“Never that. I just need you to remember. Let me hear it.”
I swallowed hard, forcing my face to stay straight. “You fill it in since you got all the answers.”
He shook his head. “If I had all the answers, I wouldn’t be tryna get you to talk about it.”
“You make me sick,” I sneered, and he blinked slowly, clearly unbothered.
“Just start talking.”
“You already know what happened.”
“Refresh my memory.”
Something about that irritated me, but not enough to shut me up.
“I pulled up, and that little voice in the back of my head was screaming at me to watch my back that night. I remember that much.”
“Why?” he asked.
I frowned. “What do you mean by why?”
“If things didn’t feel right, why didn’t you leave?”
I hesitated, trying to grab hold of something solid. “…Because I was supposed to meet somebody.”
“For what?”
“I-I don’t know,” I snapped.
“Think harder.”
My lips pressed together, my stomach churning as I fought against the fog. “I think it was to make a drop. Did we sell drugs or something?”
The moment the words left my mouth, a flash hit me, sharp and sudden, like a needle to the eye. I saw myself in a car. It was dark. There was a duffel bag. Twenty kilos.
I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to hold the image steady, but it was like trying to cup water in my hands. It was there, but the more I reached for it, the more it slipped away.
Booda dragged his tongue along his teeth, then looked away for a second before his eyes found mine again. “Keep going.”
“I was there to make a drop,” I said, though I wasn’t exactly sure.
It just felt right.
Booda didn’t say anything. Just stood there, arms loose at his sides as he watched and waited for me to continue.
“I sat there too long,” I continued, more to myself now. “I should’ve left.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” I shook my head, gazing off into space. “Something was off—but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“What made it feel off?”
I looked at him. “I don’t know. It just did.”
“Don’t play with me. You know,” he said, sounding a little frustrated. “What was different?”
The noise around me faded, and I was back on that block. Cars passed by, but the sound didn’t match what I was seeing. Everything was a second off. I sat there, my eyes moving from one end of the block to the other as I tried to figure out why my chest felt so tight.
“Shadows,” I said, the word slipping out before I could fully grasp it. “There were shadows where there shouldn’t have been any.”
“Where?” Booda pressed.
“I don’t—” I stopped, frustrated. My head was starting to pound. “Between the buildings. On the left side. I remember thinking somebody was waiting, but I couldn’t see who.”
The migraine creeping in was a dull throb at the base of my skull that I recognized. This was what always happened when I tried too hard to remember. My brain would rebel, would lock down, would punish me for pushing.
“Keep going,” Booda said.
“…The street,” I said finally. “It was dead. I was the only person out there.”
“And?”
I opened my mouth, but my jaw just hung there, useless. Light splintered at the edges of my vision, and a vise clamped down behind my right eyeball, twisting tighter with each heartbeat.
“Damn…” I whispered, lifting my hand to my temple. “Hold on.”
“You good?” Booda asked, his voice laced with concern as he moved closer to me.
“I said hold on,” I snapped, holding out my arm to keep him at a distance. “This shit fucking hur—”
Pain tore through my skull, hot and sudden, like a surge I couldn’t outrun. It spread to my temple and locked my jaw. It radiated outward and wrapped around my temple, seizing every muscle in my body. My vision blurred as a haze crept in, and cold sweat broke across my skin.
For a moment, I was stuck, a victim of the migraine’s assault, and I couldn’t do anything but take it.
When I could finally speak again, I dragged in a breath, forcing my eyes open.
“I was looking out the window,” I said. “Not really paying attention, just… staring off into space. I think we fought right before that. My mind was preoccupied.”
The pressure pulsed again.
“Then—” I stopped, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?”
“I wasn’t looking. But I think something cut across my side. Then it disappeared—I think.”
“Then what did you notice?”
I pressed my fingers into my temple, thinking.
“…moonlight… another shadow?” I wasn’t sure about anything else, but the shadows… I could’ve sworn on my life they were there.
“Which side?”
I stammered for a moment. The answer was right there.
“…Left,” I said finally. “I think.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped, my hand still pressed against my head. “It’s not clear.”
“Somebody was there.”
“How close?”
“Close enough that I should’ve seen them,” I said. “But I didn’t.”
That didn’t sit right with me.
None of it did.
“My gut always warns me. I should’ve known better than to ignore—”
The thought broke off, and I sucked my teeth in frustration before pressing my fingers right back into my temple.
“Damn,” I breathed. “This shit’s not coming back right.”
“Then don’t force it,” he said.
“I’m not forcing anything. It’s just not—”
I paused as a hazy memory flashed in and out.
“…There was a sound,” I said.
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. It felt like something was about to happen.”
“And then?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Then it got loud.”
The words barely left my mouth before the pain spiked again. Hard.
“Damn—” I grabbed my head, my knees dipped, and the room tilted sideways.
My hand shot out for the counter, but I missed.
“Easy,” Booda said, moving to my side.
My shoulder hit the wall, and I pressed into it, catching myself.
“Don’t—” I started, pushing off it, only to end up leaning into him anyway. “I’m good.”
That was a lie.
The pressure behind my eye pulsed again, stronger, dragging everything to the side.
“You need to lie down,” he said.
I shook my head once, regretting it immediately. “Let’s finish. I’ll be okay.”
“Nah. Get some rest. We’ll finish this conversation tomorrow.”
I pushed off the counter and moved with one hand still pressed to my temple as I made my way down the short hall. He stayed close, but didn’t crowd me, and let me move on my own at my own pace.
I reached my room, sat on the floor, and snatched up my purse to grab my medication. I leaned forward, fumbling with the container for a moment before finally opening it. I shook out a pill.
“Water,” I said, and when I looked down, it was already there.
I didn’t question it. I took the pill, swallowed it dry first, then reached for the bottle to chase it down.
For a second, I sat there, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, waiting for it to ease up. It took a minute, maybe longer, to kick in. I didn’t keep track.
The edge dulled first. Then the pressure started backing off. Little by little, until I could finally lift my head without feeling as if it was going to split.
I leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath.
“The headaches always this bad?” he asked.
“Only when I push it, or when I’m tryna remember something that my head doesn’t want to be remembered.”
Unable to keep sitting up, I lay on the floor and pulled the blanket up to my neck.
“You can go,” I said, even though I didn’t look at him.
He didn’t listen. Instead, he lay behind me and pulled me to his chest before wrapping his arms around me.
“I ain’t going nowhere,” he replied.
I closed my eyes for a second, too tired to argue.
“Whatever. Do what you want,” I whispered. “Just be gone when I wake up. I still don’t fuck with you.”