Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
RHYAN
Iwasn’t expecting tonight to end like this.
Yeah, I wanted to kick it with my girls before I left the city for a few weeks, clear my mind, drink a little, laugh a little…
breathe. That was it. So when Chauncey and his crew pulled up behind us like some damn plot twist, it hit me before I could even adjust.
And the crazy part is, tonight he really wasn’t wrong, and that’s what made it hit harder.
That’s what makes this shit so irritating, because the truth still leaves me irritated.
He ain’t flirting. Ain’t entertain nobody. Ain’t disappear. But whenever Chauncey steps on the scene, it’s always some bitch from his past ready to audition for attention. Like they were waiting for opportunities to remind me they existed in his life. That shit is exhausting.
But what Chauncey fails to understand is that it’s not always about cheating. Sometimes it’s about protection. Checking disrespect immediately, before it grows legs. Before another woman gets comfortable enough to play in your relationship right in your face.
That’s why I told him to change his number.
Deny access, nigga.
If you are really serious about turning over a new leaf, then act like it. Stop leaving doors cracked for old energy to walk through whenever it feels entitled. Because these hoes clearly still feel too comfortable.
But we’ll see. I’m still watching what he does with that space.
Niggas always talk a good game when they’re scared of losing you. The real test is what they do once the moment cools off.
I texted my grandma earlier and told her I was sliding through to see her and my grandad before I leave town.
After all that, I wasn’t planning on bringing Chauncey with me at all.
I really wanted a few peaceful hours to vent about his ass freely without him sitting there looking hurt and handsome, making me second-guess my anger.
Because that’s the dangerous thing about loving somebody deeply. It can make you want to forgive too fast.
Sometimes they can calm storms they created just by touching you the right way. And I’m trying really hard not to let chemistry silence common sense anymore.
We finally pulled up to my grandma’s house, and as soon as the Bentley parked, Chauncey hopped out before I could even grab the handle. He walked around to my side and opened my door on muscle memory, as if even after all that tension, our bodies still knew the next move.
For a second… time slowed down, and I could feel myself slipping out of the fight.
I finally really looked at him. I hadn’t all night. Not for real. Everything moved too fast once he pulled up at the bar, and after that, it was attitude, tension, phones ringing, old hoes, hurt feelings, and trying not to crash out in designer heels.
But standing there under my grandparents’ porch light? I saw him differently. I saw the man under all the mess.
Chauncey stepped in front of me and pressed his body against mine gently, like he was scared I’d pull away. His hand slid under my chin, cupping the bottom of my face until I looked up at him.
Lord.
That man smelled too damn good. Warm cologne, weed smoke lingering faintly on his hoodie, and something about him that always felt familiar no matter how mad I got.
I got lost in his eyes for a second, and that was all it took to start softening me.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said quietly. “I ain’t mean to ruin your day.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying, Rhy. Trying to get this shit right.”
“I know.”
“You good?”
“I’m okay.”
His forehead wrinkled instantly, like he hated that answer.
“I want you to be more than okay.”
My heart softened a little, even though I ain’t want it to.
“I will be.”
“I’mma walk you to the door. I need to handle some business; then I’mma be back in a second.”
“Okay.”
Chauncey walked me up my grandma’s porch steps slowly, like he was dragging out every extra second with me. By then, the night air had wrapped around us, and cicadas hummed loudly in the background.
It wasn’t that late, and I knew my grandma was probably still up, being nosy somewhere near the window anyway.
I stood at the front door waiting, feeling Chauncey stare at me from behind like he physically couldn’t stop himself.
And he couldn’t.
Before I could even knock, his arms slid around my waist from behind and pulled me hard into him. He buried his face against my neck and held me tight like the world was trying to take me from him. It caught me off guard, but I didn’t move.
This nigga always gets clingy when he’s scared.
I closed my eyes for a second because, despite everything, being in his arms still felt like home. Dangerous, complicated home, but home nonetheless.
Then my grandma swung the door open.
“Well, look who finally decided to come see me,” she said dramatically before her eyes landed on Chauncey. “Hi, Chauncey.”
“Grandma, don’t start,” I muttered immediately.
Chauncey looked up and smiled that charming ass smile he uses on old people and judges.
“Hi, Grandma.”
“Y’all come on in.”
Chauncey glanced at me for half a second, like he was debating whether to leave and “handle business,” as he said.
This nigga walked right behind me the whole time.
Mmmhmm.
He wasn’t letting me out of his sight tonight.
My granddaddy was stretched out in his recliner, watching the game, when we walked in. The TV was loud enough to shake the walls a little, and the smell of fried onions and chili hit me the second the front door closed behind us.
Home.
Real home.
“Grandaddy.”
He looked up at the sound of my voice, and his whole face lit up instantly.
“Well, look at one of my favorite girls.”
I laughed and walked straight into his arms while Chauncey leaned over and dapped him up.
“Wassup, OG?”
“Boy, ain’t nobody studying you.” My grandaddy smirked before patting his shoulder anyway.
I hugged my grandaddy tight, probably tighter than usual. I ain’t realized how much I needed this until now. My grandparents’ house always grounded me. No matter what chaos was going on outside these walls, inside everything felt slower. Safer.
The house was spotless, as always, smelling of lemons, grease, fabric softener, and love. My grandma never let anybody leave hungry, sad, or without some type of life advice they ain’t ask for.
“Y’all hungry?” my grandma called from the kitchen.
“Yep,” Chauncey and I answered at the same time.
“It’s the weekend,” she said proudly. “I cooked chili cheese hot dogs with house fries and onion rings. Pick your poison.”
“That’s fine, Grandma.” I looked over at Chauncey. “You want some?”
“Yeah, I want some.” He chuckled.
“Stop being Manish at my granny’s house.”
“That’s you,” he shot back instantly.
I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen to fix our plates. The old hardwood floors creaked softly under my feet while my grandma stood at the counter, watching me entirely too hard.
Yeah… I already knew she was finna start asking questions, and I wasn’t ready for them.
“Grandma, can I fix our plates first?”
“Yep,” she answered, but that look stayed on her face. The one older woman who already knows something is wrong before you open your mouth.
I fixed Chauncey’s plate exactly how he liked it, without even thinking about it: two chili-cheese hot dogs, extra onions, fries on the side, and a cold soda. Muscle memory.
That’s the dangerous part about real love. Even when you’re mad, your hands still remember them.
I carried his plate into the living room and handed it to him. He looked up at me for a second longer than necessary before taking it. I felt that look in my chest before he even spoke.
“Appreciate you.”
“Mihm.”
Chauncey sat on the sofa next to my grandaddy, watching the game as he belonged there.
Like he’d been a part of this family forever.
And honestly? He had been. That man done ate Sunday dinners here, helped my grandaddy move furniture, cut the grass, fixed shit around the house…
hell, my grandma probably loved him almost as much as I did.
I walked back into the kitchen, where my grandma was already fixing my plate for me.
“You wanna sit outside on the deck with me?” she asked casually.
There it was.
“Of course.”
I grabbed my plate and followed my grandma toward the back deck, the sounds of the basketball game and Chauncey laughing with my grandaddy fading behind us.
Deep down, I already knew this conversation was about to get messy as hell.
I took a seat at the table on the deck and finished the rest of my food while my grandma lit the fire pit in the middle of the table. The flames danced softly against the dark, warming the cool night air while crickets hummed somewhere in the distance.
This right here? This was peace.
My grandparents’ backyard looked like something out of a magazine.
Huge in-ground pool glowing under soft lights, flower beds blooming around the fence line, and a full garden packed with fresh fruits and vegetables.
Tomatoes, peppers, onions, strawberries…
my grandma grew damn near everything herself.
I took another bite of my hot dog and closed my eyes for a second.
“The onions in this chili are amazing.”
“I know.”
I laughed. “You stay bragging.”
“Yep.”
That made me smile because she really would brag too. And honestly? She earned it. My grandma used to own one of the most popular soul-food restaurants on the east side before she retired and rented out her suite, so everybody knew her cooking was unbeatable.
She poured me a glass of fresh lemonade from the pitcher beside her and slid it across the table.
“Grandma, this is so good.”
“I know that too.” She smirked before rocking slowly in her chair.
I shook my head, laughing softly while sipping the lemonade. Fresh squeezed. Probably from the lemon tree sitting right by the garden. God, I missed this place.
God, I missed this place.
Truthfully, I’d rather be right here on this deck than in any loud-ass club surrounded by fake love and overpriced liquor. Out here, everything felt honest.