Prologue #4
“I’m just sayin’.”
“Yeah, you’re saying something stupid.” I pushed off his chest, but his arm tightened around my waist before I could get far. “No, because what the fuck does that even mean? I’m not disappearing off the face of the earth.”
“I ain’t say you was.”
“You basically did.”
“I said don’t forget me, Solace.”
“Like I could.” I finally managed to sit up, pulling the comforter with me as I turned toward him. “You think because I’m gonna have a new job and meet new people, I’m suddenly gonna forget I have a man? Forget you’ve been my best friend since I was eight?”
Smoke rubbed a hand over his beard and looked away from me. “Shit change when people leave.”
“And shit changes when people stay too.”
His eyes came back to mine. “Fuck that ‘posed to mean?”
“It means you don’t get to say some depressing shit like that right after we fuck and then act like I’m the one starting something.”
“I said what I said.”
“And it was stupid as hell.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Watch yo’ mouth.”
“Or what?” Smoke stared at me for a second, and I knew that look. I should’ve left it alone. Instead, irritated and still naked under his comforter, I rolled my eyes and started climbing off the bed. “Exactly.” I barely got one foot on the floor.
Smoke caught me by the throat and pulled me back toward him, his big hand wrapping around it without squeezing hard enough to hurt. My breath caught as he brought my face close to his. “Still got all that fuckin’ mouth even after I dick you down,” he muttered.
“And you still say stupid shit.”
“Yeah?”
His mouth crashed into mine before I could say anything else.
The kiss was deep and rough enough to shut me up, his tongue pushing between my lips while his hand stayed around my throat.
I grabbed his wrist, kissing him back just as hard until whatever argument I’d been prepared to keep having disappeared underneath the heat spreading through me again.
When Smoke finally pulled away, my lips were wet, and my breathing had gone uneven.
He looked at me for another second before sliding his hand from my throat to the back of my neck.
“Now bring yo’ sticky ass on,” he said, climbing out of bed and pulling me with him.
“Let me wash my pussy up before you get back to fussin’. ”
I smacked his arm. “Your pussy?”
Smoke grabbed my ass with one hand and steered me toward the bathroom. “You heard me.” He meant that too.
Five days later, I left Bellhaven, and for about six months, everything was good between us. I called him from my new apartment while sitting on boxes because I hadn’t bought a couch yet. I called after work to tell him about my overbearing manager.
I FaceTimed him while grocery shopping because I couldn’t find the hot sauce I liked. He called me from job sites, from his truck, from the school while waiting for Anthony to finish basketball practice. I came home twice, and both times I left with an aching heart.
Then my job got busier, and Smoke’s life got crazier.
His mother’s disappearing acts got longer, Anthony got into trouble skipping school, and Keyana needed more attention.
I got invited to things after work, made new friends, and started building routines that didn’t include Bellhaven.
Nightly calls with Smoke became every other night, then a few times a week. Then the arguments started.
When you comin’ home?
I didn’t know.
You comin’ for the Labor Day cookout? Yo’ ass missed Juneteenth.
I didn’t know that either.
The truth was, every time I heard Smoke’s voice, some part of me wanted to get in my car and drive straight back to him.
I hated that feeling. I had worked too hard to leave Bellhaven, so I started letting his calls go to voicemail.
At first, I always called back, then I waited a day or two.
That is, until one night, his name lit up my phone while I sat alone in my little apartment.
I stared at it until the screen went dark, but he called again and again. I just couldn’t answer. A minute later, a text appeared.
I put my phone face down, and Smoke called me three more times that week. I never answered. Eventually, he stopped calling.
I missed him like hell, but I had already learned that hearing his voice made me want to go home.
Every conversation reminded me how easy it would be to pack my shit, get on the highway, and be back in Bellhaven before dark.
I could be back in his apartment, back in his bed, and back in the life I had spent years telling myself I needed to leave long enough to figure out who I was without it.
So, when the phone finally stopped ringing, I let it.
I told myself Smoke would understand eventually.
I told myself we had loved each other long enough for him to know I was not trying to hurt him.
I was only trying to give myself enough distance to stop wanting him more than I wanted everything I had left home to find.
For the first time in my life, I was choosing myself.