Chapter 16
Sixteen
Honor Gravehart
"Choyce, open the door," I rasped, knocking hard enough to shake the frame.
"Nigga, leave!" she shouted from the other side.
I flexed my jaw, swallowing my anger. "Open this muthafucka, or I'm shooting it off the hinges."
"I wish you—"
"Stand back or get shot," I quipped, tired of her fucking games.
"Nigga, you wouldn't—"
Two shots cracked through the door as a warning.
"Are you fucking crazy?" Choyce barked, swinging the door open. "My daughter lives here."
"I told ya ass to open the door." I shrugged, pushing my way back into the crib.
"And I told you to leave."
"Because of whatever bullshit you cooked up in your head," I shot back, leaning against the door.
I stayed in the foyer, knowing that if I went deeper inside her house, it would lead us somewhere we didn't need to be.
"Did you or did you not answer your phone while in my bed?"
"That was Chosyn."
"So the fuck what! Answering for any bitch while in my bed is disrespectful."
"Tell me what the real problem is, 'cause I know you're not mad about your sister calling."
"My problem is you're still here after I asked you to leave."
Choyce stood there, her beautiful features etched with anger… lips tight, eyes blazing in a way that made my stomach churn. I'd seen her irritated before and never gave a fuck. However, this wasn't some shit I could ignore because I was the cause of her.
"Choyce." I sighed, stepping forward.
"Don't," she whispered, palming my chest. "You made it clear what last night was, so don't make this any more confusing."
Her hand was firm, but it trembled each time she exhaled.
"What if I'm confused?"
"About?"
"You," I answered honestly.
There hasn’t been a day where I was confused about Navy.
I loved her. What we shared was carved into me and built on a bond that couldn't be replaced.
But standing across from Choyce, watching her glare at me with tears glossing her eyes, I felt something that went deeper than attraction.
Her disappointment in the way I handled her hit harder than it should've.
"Please don't gas me," she mumbled. "You love Navy. It's always going to be her."
She let out an awkward laugh, her eyes darting away as if holding mine hurt too much.
"Last night I needed something I never got to experience on my own terms. I mean… don't all girls see their firsts as mistakes? Technically, you're not my first, but I chose you." Her voice cracked. "I didn't choose Talon."
That knocked the air clean out of my lungs.
For Choyce, it wasn't about getting one up on Navy like I thought.
It wasn't even about her fucking a nigga she found handsome.
It was about having a choice, and I knew enough about how Lucian played mind games to know having a choice was rare.
I clenched my teeth, realizing what she saw as sacred, I used to numb pain I wasn't ready to face.
"Choyce…" my voice lost its edge, softening in a way that was usually reserved for Navy.
Choyce shook her head before I could finish, wiping her eyes quickly like she hated that I was seeing this side of her.
"I need you to go," she whimpered. "So I can get myself together before I pick Cherish up."
"I'll leave but first let me explain.”
"Why? So, you can clear your conscience?" she scoffed.
"No," I chuckled at her snappiness, "I don't want you thinking it was done lightly or done on some scumbag shit."
She studied me for a second. "Fine, but we're staying right here."
"That's cool with me," I replied, then got quiet.
"Well," she dragged out impatiently.
"Before coming here, I was at my therapy session."
"Wow," she cooed, genuine shock in her tone, "I never would've guessed that."
"I promised Crown I'd go, so I was making good on it. Shit was cool at first. My therapist was straight. We talked a little and somehow, we got onto the topic of my po—" The word lodged in my throat. "My pops," I forced out.
"Lucian?" She frowned.
"Nah, my re…real pops," I stammered. "I haven't thought about him in years. I'm talking before my mom died type shit."
"What happened to him?"
"I… I can't say."
"I get that," she softly said. "Sometimes when we go through traumatic experiences, our brains block things out. And when we try to remember, our bodies react like we're in danger."
"Do panic attacks count?"
"They can."
Something in her face changed. Her brows stopped pulling, and the fire in her eyes cooled into something that made a nigga feel seen. She wasn't looking at me like I was broken or trying to fix me. She just… understood.
"Is that what happened with you?"
"With me?" she questioned, confusion dancing across her features.
I stepped closer, stopping just short of crowding her.
One hand braced against the wall beside her head, the other slipped beneath her pajama shirt, gently mapping the curves of the risen welts that decorated her back.
My touch wasn't needy this time. It was careful and tender.
Last night I noticed them, and I almost traced each line with my tongue, wanting to soothe what I didn't understand, but she stopped me.
Our eyes met, and I caught the remnants of a story she wasn't ready to tell.
Pain layered under pride.
Survival wrapped in silence.
"This," I murmured as my fingers slowed along her spine.
"It's nothing," she huffed, grabbing my arm and moving it away from her.
"You don't have to lie to me."
"What am I supposed to do with a man who's not mine? Be vulnerable? Share a sad story because you shared one with me? Stop trying to connect with me when we both know I'm not where you want to be."
Choyce slipped out from in front of me and walked the short distance to the front door. Grabbing the handle, she opened it.
"Leave, please. I'm sure Nav—"
"Don't say her name. Not because I don't want to hear it, but because this moment is ours."
Choyce's face was stony, but I caught the hiccup in her chest when I said it.
"You have to go because this is starting to feel like false hope."
"Ight," I said and walked out the door.
"Honor," she called after me.
"Yeah, Choyce."
"Be honest with me."
I nodded.
"If it wasn't for her, could there have been an us?"
"Maybe."
"Thank you," she half-smiled. "This can never happen again."
"It won't."
"I know," she whispered and closed the door.
Walking away, I hung my head, feeling like a piece of shit.
Navy was who I needed to breathe in this world.
She knew every version of me and chose to love me despite my flaws.
Loving her felt like it was written before I even had a say in it.
Still, loving her came weighted with this unspoken understanding that I was supposed to be fixed by now.
Choyce was different. I didn't share memories with her.
I didn't have years tying us together, but when she looked at me, I didn't feel broken, just understood because her shattered pieces looked like mine.