Chapter 15 Khloe #2
I thought about going inside to take a nap, wait for Kairo to get home, and try to have a conversation I didn’t even know how to start. I thought about how it would be a conversation that would probably end with both of us defending our intentions instead of addressing our pain.
My mind started talking louder than my logic ever could.
When was the last time you did something just because it felt good?
When was the last time you chose peace instead of responsibility?
When was the last time you didn’t put everyone else first?
That was the problem. My mind could build an entire world out of a single feeling.
I knew that and yet….. I shifted the car into reverse before doubt and fear told total control of my mind. My heart was racing, my palms were damp, and every instinct I had was screaming this changes things, but I didn’t care.
“I’m on my way,” I said.
And just like that, temptation won.
I almost didn’t pull in.
I drove past the house once, turned the corner, then circled back. My hands were sweating on the steering wheel and my heart was thumping so loud.
When I parked I closed my eyes to say a prayer and my car door opened. I jumped.
“Hey,” he said softly, smiling like he didn’t mean to scare me.
Stacks stood there excited like he’d been waiting for me. He had on a shirt and sweats with his locs pulled back.
“You didn’t have to—” I started.
“I wanted to,” he said, holding his hand out. “You okay?”
I nodded, even though the answer was complicated. He helped me out the car before guiding me into his home.
His house was… beautiful. Everything had a place. It was the kind of space that wasn’t cluttered but nice. It was a small family home, but everything was updated and upscale. On top of that, it smelled like cedar and something citrusy.
“This is nice,” I said, looking around.
He shrugged. “It’s home.”
We walked through slowly, and nothing about it felt performative. He showed me around and it wasn’t in a “let me show you everything I own” way. It felt like he was letting me exist in his space that he’d worked hard for.
We passed a hallway and I noticed a child’s room. The bed was made neatly with basketball trophies on a shelf and framed drawings on the wall.
“You did all this?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.
That made me smile. I loved that he was so intentional about even his son’s space. He led me to the back, sliding the patio door open. The patio overlooked a beautiful stretch of trees.
“Most mornings,” he said, pointing, “I’m out here with my laptop and coffee working. It’s quiet, so it helps me think.”
I smiled. “I can see why.”
We sat on opposite ends of the couch. I needed the distance because I was already shaking on the inside. Music played low in the background.
“So,” he said slowly, leaning back. “What kind of day have you had so far?”
I laughed. “You sure you wanna open that door?”
“I wouldn’t have invited you over if I didn’t.”
Something in me cracked and words started spilling out. I talked about feeling invisible. About being tired of being the strong one. About walking into rooms where everyone needed something from me and leaving with nothing left for myself.
I didn’t just cry either. I laughed too, made jokes, and even rolled my eyes at myself. The entire time, he just looked at me and listened.
Like it mattered.
Like I mattered.
“I don’t feel crazy when I talk to you,” I admitted.
“That’s because you’re not,” he said. “You’re overwhelmed and misunderstood.”
Tears slid down my face. “I’m always considering everyone else,” I whispered. “I don’t even know what it feels like to just… choose myself without guilt.”
He nodded slowly. “We are going to work on that, starting today.”
At some point, I realized that I wasn’t nervous anymore and my body had relaxed.
We laughed about music. He talked about how bad dating apps were and how a lot of women didn’t have any depth. He had this way of talking that made me feel safe and at peace.
We walked back inside from sitting outside on the patio for a while. Stacks didn’t say anything at first. He just crossed the room and stopped in front of his record player. I watched him flip through vinyls.
When the needle dropped and Jill Scott’s A Long Walk started playing, I laughed instantly.
“Oh, you did that on purpose,” I said, shaking my head.
He turned around slow, already moving his shoulders to the rhythm, a grin spreading across his face.
“I know you like that shit.”
I laughed harder. “I do. I really do.”
Jill’s voice filled the room. She has the kind of voice that didn’t just sing to you, but understands you too.
Stacks held his hand out. “Come dance with me.”
“No,” I said automatically, even though my body was already swaying.
He didn’t argue. He just stepped closer, caught my hand anyway, and pulled me in. It was like our bodies recognized the music the same way our minds did.
Let’s take a long walk around the park after dark…
We sang along between laughter, bumping into furniture, spinning clumsily, and completely unbothered.
Find a spot for us to spark conversation… verbal elation… stimulation… Share our situation… temptation… education… relaxation…
The lyrics felt too on the nose, like Jill was narrating us in real time. I looked up at him, breathless from laughing, and realized how much I loved being around him and how light I felt. He spun me around and I squealed, nearly losing my balance, laughing as he caught me by the waist.
He pulled me closer, and surprisingly it didn’t feel wrong. It felt… good and electric.
When the song slowed toward the end, everything else faded—the house, the noise in my head, the day I’d had. There was just him, Jill’s voice, and the way my heart was beating like it was remembering how to be young again.
Then he lifted his hands to my face. I should’ve stopped him, but I didn’t. He kissed me, and I kissed him back. It was soft at first, then it got deeper, signaling fireworks to go off inside me.
He pulled back before it went too far with his forehead resting against mine.
“I know you have to get your daughter,” he said, catching his breath. “But let’s do this again.”
Soon wasn’t even a question.
I nodded, still catching my breath. “Soon.”
He let my face go, and I turned to grab my purse off the couch. “Thank you… for today.”
He smiled. “Anytime you need to breathe,” he said. “I’m here.”
As I walked out, my heart was full and my mind was spinning. That shit felt too good not to do it again.