Chapter 30 Crown Gravehart
Crown Gravehart
I pulled up and sat out front of the mill, cutting my lights.
Being here almost felt nostalgic. This life felt miles away from where I stood now.
When we first started coming to the mill, we used to sit inside cutting and bagging up our shit, counting duffels filled with money, speaking dreams into existence like they were more than promises.
We laughed here, cried here, and shared some of our biggest fears here. This was where three black boys the world had given up on came to build something bigger than themselves. And we did that shit. We just didn't know things would end up like this.
Wolfe, being married with a baby, was fitting, but it wasn't what he had planned for himself.
Yeah, he always wanted love, but that nigga wanted it from the woman who birthed him.
He needed her to apologize for her shit so he wouldn't have to carry a burden that wasn't his to begin with.
If I'd known Chosyn was gon' be the one to pull him out of his head, I would've introduced them back when I first met her.
I laughed to myself, 'cause that version of Chosyn would've drove Wolfe insane.
She wasn't ready to receive what he had to offer.
Those two would've torn each other up before realizing they were each other's missing piece.
They happened when they were supposed to.
When both their hearts were ready to mend.
Then there was me.
Everything I dreamed of outside of being a rich nigga was dreamt with the wrong bitch in mind.
Em was supposed to be everything a nigga could ask for.
I saw her in the vision of my mom when she didn’t deserve to know her story.
Em was a mistake, but she was my greatest one.
Without her, I don't think I would've known how to appreciate Four.
The love I thought I wanted with her couldn't compare to the immense love I have for Four.
When I look at her, I don't see a reflection of my mother.
I see the woman my mother would've painted if she'd been given the brush.
The woman she wanted for me. Someone just as selfish with me as I am with her.
Someone who forces me to be better without having to hold my hand through it.
Four did all of that for me, even while still hung up on a dead nigga.
She led me into becoming the man my mother always believed I'd be.
The mill sat quietly in front of me, its walls heavy, carrying the ghosts and broken versions of the men my brothers and I used to be.
So much had changed, yet so much was still the same.
I cut the engine, slid out of the car, and walked toward the mill.
I stepped inside, letting the door close behind me, then stopped.
"Honor!" I barked, my voice cutting through the hollow space.
Footsteps followed, not rushed, just heavy and weighted by whatever burden Honor chose to carry instead of sharing.
"Nigga you couldn't come find me," he scoffed, coming into view.
"Nah." I didn't move. I just let my eyes travel over him.
Honor looked like himself, same stance, same brooding attitude, but his shoulders sat higher than normal, like he was bracing for a hit that hadn't struck yet.
"You look like shit," I noted.
"Am I 'posed to look like a nigga off the runway?" he shot back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"That's not what I mean." I shrugged. "But if you wanna act dumb 'bout the shit when all I'm trying to do is check in with you, then cool. What you need help with?"
"Follow me."
Honor turned and took a couple of steps, expecting me to move, but I didn't.
"Nigga, you coming?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Nah, we gotta talk first."
He stopped. "Didn't you just ask what I need help with? Bring your ass on so I can show you. I don't got time for your shit, Crown."
"Make time," I responded evenly, "'cause I'm not helping you with shit 'til we clear the air."
He turned back to me, his jaw tight. "I ain't got shit to say," he muttered, dragging a hand through his short curls.
"From where I stand," I said, not raising my voice, "you got a lot to fucking say."
He scoffed, lips curling. "You start going to therapy, and now you think you know some shit."
I didn't react, flinch, or give him the fight he was looking for.
"This don't got shit to do with therapy."
Honor exhaled hard through his nose, fingers flexing at his sides. "Then what? 'Cause I got two bodies I need your help getting rid of!"
"You," I growled, finally stepping forward. "Nigga, you're the fuckin' reason—"
"I'm the fuckin' reason you get to sit at home with your pregnant fiancée, every fucking day.
And you know what's crazy… you haven't put in work since you dipped for those two months, and deposits still hit your account.
" Honor's chest puffed out after saying that shit like he had something to prove.
A tight grin settled on my face 'cause I wasn't the nigga he had to prove himself to.
"So yeah, Cortez, I'm the muthafuckin' reason."
I laughed, slow and controlled, nodding at his arrogance. My jaw locked, molars grinding as I dragged my tongue across my teeth, wondering if this nigga could hear himself.
Staring at the man I called my brother, the man I'd follow to the edge of the earth, eyeing me like I was an enemy instead of blood, fucked my head up.
We were never ‘posed to let shit get this far, but we've been dodging the elephant in the room since I got back.
What happened in my basement started off as Honor playing victim and me needing him to acknowledge that I was my own man.
Words got tossed, egos bruised, but understanding never found its way into the room.
I didn't want to believe Honor was the type to take his own life, but the way he mumbled under his breath, the far-gone look in his eyes, said otherwise.
This back and forth between us was doing more than fucking up our family.
It had Honor teetering on the edge and had me forgetting the importance of listening, because not every cry for help was vocal.
"You want your cookie now, nigga?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "'Cause niggas who gotta say they the reason the next nigga can feed his family usually wants some type of applause."
"No applause needed, but I'd appreciate some fucking respect or acknowledgment. Hell, a fucking thank you. Some other than you bitching."
"Acknowledgment is me trading my last name for a made-up one.
A thank you is—" Chuckling, I cut myself off.
"Nah. See, I'm not about to do this shit with you.
Real power, real respect doesn't need a list of shit I've done for you or with you.
I've been nothing but loyal to you and your muthafuckin' name, and you wanna talk to me about acknowledgment? Appreciation?"
I scoffed, letting my eyes fall for a second before lifting back to his.
"But you don't get that shit, do you? You don't understand that loyalty ain't submission. I stand beside you, not beneath you. What you say don't move me unless I choose for it to."
My voice stayed calm, but the warning sat heavy.
"You can't son me. The sooner you understand that the better off we'll be."
Honor laughed, sharp and humorless.
"See, that's the problem right there," he said, stepping closer. "You think I'm trying to son you, when that's the furthest thing from my mind."
"Then what do you call the I did this, and I did that for you bullshit you keep spewing?"
"It's a reminder that I don't have to answer the questions of a nigga who should be grateful I put him in a position to eat."
Honor's words weren't meant to be cruel. They were meant to remind me of where he believed my place was. Looking at Honor, I didn't see my brother, didn't see family. I shook my head slowly, more disappointed than angry.
"You're broken," I said simply. "And that ain't your fault. We were all broken when we found each other. But you… you're the only one still living in that pain."
Honor's shoulders stiffened, his nostrils flaring.
"And what's crazy is you should've been let that trauma go.
Navy… she's been right there, holding your hand through your shit, every step.
Giving up her time, her energy, her life to keep you from falling apart.
Everybody sees it, my nigga. Each one of us sees how she bends herself to keep you whole," I told him, sucking my teeth.
Wolfe found peace in Chosyn.
I found solace in Four.
Honor had both in Navy and treated her love like water.
He used it to survive, but never to heal.
He sat with his hurt and let it harden, while Navy poured every part of herself into him.
Her love. Her patience. Navy bled for him.
Lived for him. Carried him in ways nobody else could.
And instead of letting her all the way in, he let her light knock at a door he refused to open, choosing the hurt he knew over the healing he could've had.
"Fuck you saying? I don't love Navy?" he gritted out.
"You love her… just like you love Wolfe and me, but that love isn't what drives you.
Us needing you… that's what fuels you. And I use that term loosely 'cause we don't really need you.
You held on to your pain, filled its cracks with control…
with people who need you, so you don't gotta face yourself, so you don't gotta see just how broken you really are… or how much you need us."
His jaw clenched, tight enough for me to see the lines in his face deepen. I didn't let him speak. Honor's problem wasn't that he didn't feel. It was that everyone tiptoed around it. Nobody told him the shit he needed to hear.