Chapter 11 Orion
Orion
My heart was still beating like a drum when I stormed through the door.
My shirt was sticking to me because of my sweating.
I caught Cayla’s eyes, wide and scared, with her phone half-hidden in her hands.
For a second, I thought about lying. I thought about telling her it wasn’t what it looked like.
But the truth was heavy on me, heavier than the blood that was on my damn clothes.
I dropped down on the bench at the foot of the bed and ran a hand over my face.
“It’s done,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Me and Omari handled it.”
Cayla just stared at me like she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest. But I couldn’t stop. The words poured out of me like a confession.
“I’ve been moving really smart since my moms was put in the ground.
I didn’t know how to catch this nigga Fresh because after the shooting, he became a ghost. He moved out of his crib, leaving his wife and everything behind.
It was hard to find this muthafucka, so when one of my boys told me they saw him coming out of this damn motel on Atlantic, I knew it was now or never. ”
I leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees, trying to remember the heat of it. All the details weren’t important. The point was that he was gone now.
“I put my gun right to his chest and made him look me in the eye. I told him this was for Olivia, and then I pulled the trigger.”
She sat there silently as I thought back to that moment.
I must have blacked the fuck out because the next thing I knew, Omari was pulling me away, and I was clicking a gun that no longer had bullets.
I could still hear the shots ringing in my head.
Still see the way his body dropped and bounced with each bullet that entered.
“Me and O wrapped it up clean,” I finished, my voice low and steady. “Ain’t nobody gon’ find him. And if they do, it won’t come back to us. That chapter’s closed.”
I finally looked at her, and the fear in her face cut sharper than any bullet could.
“You wanted to know what I did? That’s what I did. He took my mother. So, I took him. An eye for an eye.”
I couldn’t read her. I just saw her press a button on her phone, and I prayed it wasn’t her calling the police because then I would have had to put her ass down too.
My feelings for her were growing stronger by the day, but I wasn’t about to go to jail for anyone.
She placed her phone down and then stood from the bed.
I didn’t know what I expected from her after I laid it all out.
Maybe she would run or scream. But Cayla didn’t do any of that.
She just stood up quietly and came to me.
“Come on,” she said. Her voice was soft, but I could still hear the slight tremble in her tone.
Her fingers were gentle but firm as she pulled at my shirt, peeling it off me like it was poison.
The dried blood tugged against my skin. It was sticky and dark.
She didn’t flinch, not even when her hands came away red.
She just balled it up and tossed it aside.
Same with my jeans. Every layer of me reeked of what I’d done, but she handled me like I was something worth saving.
She hooked her arm around mine, guiding me toward our en-suite, her bare feet padded against the hardwood.
My body felt heavy, weighed down with more than exhaustion, but she never let me stumble.
When we stepped into the bathroom, the scent of her lotion still clung to the space.
Her Bath she moved carefully, wiping away the evidence like she was determined to take the weight with it.
I closed my eyes and let the water beads flow down my body, and for the first time since that gun went off, I felt my hands stop shaking.
It wasn’t from fear but relief knowing that I had finally avenged my mother’s death.
Cayla’s touch was tender, almost reverent, like she knew the war going on inside me.
I didn’t deserve her treatment. Not her patience nor her comfort, but she gave it anyway.
When she tilted my chin up and brushed the cloth across my face, her eyes locked with mine.
She took her time washing my beard. As I stared into her brown orbs, I saw no judgment.
Just this quiet strength I didn’t even know I needed.
And in that moment, standing under the water with her washing the blood off me, I realized that Cayla wasn’t just staying. She was carrying me, too.
Omari
I sat on the edge of the bed, letting the anger inside swallow me whole.
The silence in here was thick, heavy enough to choke me.
Fresh was gone. And honestly, I thought my fury would be cured with him being dead, but no, it wasn’t.
I didn’t know what to do since Moms passed.
I was still here, caught in the middle of the wreckage like it was my punishment.
Lucia moved around the room behind me, her perfume trailing close, sweet and dangerous.
“Baby, you should eat something,” she said softly, placing her hand on my shoulder.
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
The truth was, I couldn’t stomach anything.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ma lying out, cold.
And every time I thought about Fresh, my blood boiled.
He took our mother from us, and he’d paid the price.
Still, knowing I’d been with his wife long before his body hit the dirt…
it had me questioning what kind of man I really was.
Knowing I didn’t have my mother because of the actions I partook in as a man, I began to question this relationship I had been entangled in.
Lucia slid closer, resting against my side.
“You’re carrying too much,” she whispered. “I know you are.”
Her touch was warm and welcoming, but it didn’t ease the storm in me.
I kept thinking about how Ma would’ve looked at me if she knew.
She always wanted better for me. And here I was, tangled up with the widow of the man who helped put her in the ground.
With a woman who was the seed of even starting this beef.
“I gotta carry it all,” I muttered. “Orion needs me. We are both hurting, but we can’t let it break us. I can’t afford not to carry it all when this shit is my fault.”
Lucia tilted her face up at me, her eyes soft, searching.
“And what about you, Omari? Who do you lean on?”
I didn’t have an answer. All I had was this pit in my stomach and the feel of her hand sliding into mine, even though I knew it was wrong.
Grief and desire. Shame and comfort. All of it tangled together in this one room, and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold it together.
Lucia’s fingers tightened around mine, her body leaning into me like she could pour herself into my cracks and make me whole.
But there was no way a bitch who was responsible for breaking everything could put the pieces back together again.
“You don’t have to carry this alone,” she whispered as her lips brushed the side of my jaw. “I can be here for you, Omari. I am here. Fresh is gone now… It’s just us.”
Her words sank in like poison, burning in my chest. I jerked back and stared at her.
“Us?” My voice came out sharp and beastlike, almost like a growl.
She flinched but didn’t let go.
“Why are you acting like this? We always wanted him gone. You know that. I can be all yours—”
“Don’t,” I snapped while standing up so quickly the chair nearly toppled.
I never wanted her all to myself at the cost of losing my mother. My chest heaved, and I was so angry that it felt like heat was crawling up my neck.
“Don’t fucking stand here and act like this is some kind of blessing. Like Fresh being gone is a green light for us. Are you even fucking paying attention to what I lost?”
Her eyes glistened, but I couldn’t stop now. Everything I’d bottled up came spilling out.
“If we never crossed that line, me and Fresh wouldn’t have had beef. He wouldn’t have stolen from me, and Orion wouldn’t have had a reason to steal from him. He wouldn’t have set this shit off. And maybe…” My voice cracked, but I forced the words out. “Maybe Ma would still be alive.”
Lucia shook her head while tears streamed down her cheeks. “You can’t blame me for that—”
“The fuck I can’t!” I roared, slamming my fist into the wall so hard that pain shot through my knuckles. “Every time I look at you, I see the mess I made. I see the reason my family’s broken right now. You think I can be around your ass and act like things are regular?”
Silence choked the room. Lucia stood there trembling with her lips parted, but she didn’t speak again.
I turned my back on her. My body was shaking, and I was about to see red; I felt it.
The grief, the rage, and the guilt were all too much.
I wanted to tear the whole room apart. Instead, I buried my face in my hands and forced out the truth I hated most.
“I can’t even look at you without hating myself.”
Lucia stepped toward me, slow and careful, like she was approaching a vicious animal. Her hands reached for me, trembling, but steady enough to brush against my arm.
“Omari…” she whispered. Her voice was soft and pleading. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just… I just wanted you. I still want you.”