13. Taking root
TAKING ROOT
P reston’s sat in the room of his house looking at the phone. It hadn’t been ten hours since he’d sent the picture. He didn’t want to press her or be accused of doing too much.
What are you doing? You’re Preston motherfucking Cole. The voice of a generation. You know how many women would be waiting by they phone for you to text? Get a grip, P.
She wasn’t any woman. She was Spring. And that was enough to make any man nervous.
He’d been staring at the screen for ten minutes already, thumb hovering, deleting drafts before they could turn into anything real.
He wanted to text her. But he didn’t know how. He picked up his phone again and took a breath.
How you holding up?
Too heavy.
You good?
Too thin.
You wanna get coffee?
Too obvious.
He leaned against the counter, staring at her name, daring it to blink first.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed her presence until it was back in the same city. The way she made space feel intentional. The way silence didn’t feel awkward around her – it felt shared.
He shook his head slightly. Cameron would’ve cooked him for this.
Man, don’t be a bitch, he could hear him say. Closed mouths don’t get fed, and they don’t give head.
Preston exhaled, unlocked his phone, and was just about to type when it lit up.
Spring: Hey.
His abdomen clenched. He smiled despite himself. Hey.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Came back. So… am I still blocked or did I earn parole?
He let out a soft laugh. The truth was he unblocked her last night. He went on to reply, You were never blocked. I just don’t check text like that.
Spring: Lies, but I’ll allow it.
He paused, then typed before he could talk himself out of it. So… what you doing this morning?
There was a pause. He watched the three dots appear then disappear, then appear again. He was starting to think this was a mistake.
But then the message came though. Nothing yet. Why?
There it was. The space. The opening.
His heart kicked once, hard. He grinned and typed. I was thinking about going to the 59 diner by the old schoolhouse to grab some coffee.
Three dots. Then?—
Spring: Oh. Cool.
He frowned slightly, already preparing himself to play it off when the next message came through. You inviting me or just sharing your itinerary?
He smiled wide this time. I’m sharing my itinerary. I’m kind of a big deal. But if you want to catch up I’ll allow it.
Spring: You kind of have a big head. And I mean that more literal than anything
He chuckled and typed, now fully smiling at the phone. So you coming or what?
A second passed.
Spring: See you in 20.
He locked the phone and stood there for a moment, just breathing. Then he moved. Up the stairs, two at a time. Threw on a hoodie, jeans, boots he hadn’t worn in years but somehow still felt right. He caught his reflection in the mirror and shook his head, half-amused.
His mother was already dressed when he came down the stairs, hair done, makeup light but professional, phone in hand. The TV murmured in the background – some morning show neither of them was listening to.
“You’re up early,” she said, without looking at him.
Preston searched for his car keys and replied. “Busy day.”
“You seeing her today?” she asked.
Preston paused at the doorjamb. “Seeing who?”
She smiled thinly, eyebrows raised. “Boy, don’t play with me. You ain’t had a pep in your step in months, now you hopping around like a jackrabbit.”
He sighed and grabbed his keys off the counter. “I’m going to check on a friend.”
“Mmhmm,” she said. “And that friend just happens to be Nairobi Ellison.”
He stiffened. “Yes, Nairobi,” he said. “And before you get started, it’s not a problem.”
Talia rolled her eyes then finally looked at him. “That girl is trouble.”
He laughed once, sharply. “You say that about every woman I don’t ignore.”
“I say it about women who make you forget where you’re headed,” she shot back.
He met her eyes. “Mama, I ain’t doing this with you today. You don’t even know her. You never have.”
“I know enough,” she replied. “She comes back into town and suddenly you hopping around like you didn’t just bury your best friend yesterday. All I’m saying is, let the things that are buried stay buried.”
He shook his head. “She lost her cousin. That’s all this is.”
His mother didn’t respond right away. She set her phone down carefully. “Okay, I’m gonna play this lil’ game with you. Loss makes people reckless,” she said. “It makes them reach for places to heal their wounds.”
“What are you saying?” he asked. “I’m supposed to pretend she doesn’t exist?”
“I’m saying be careful,” she said. “Girls like her don’t just pass through your life. They rearrange it. Don’t forget what she did to you, son.”
He scoffed at his mother as he grabbed his jacket, then kissed her cheek despite his frustrations. “I’ll be late.”
“That’s what worries me,” she replied.
He reached for the door just as it swung inward from the other side.
Macknificent Townes walked in like the house had been waiting on him. Shirt slightly wrinkled, gold chain catching the light, sunglasses still on despite it being barely morning. He smelled like the night before – smoke, cologne, a little bit of money.
“Well, damn,” Mack said, smiling wide. “Morning, family.”
Preston took him in slowly, then turned back to his mother. “Looks like you got your own troubles. I’ll leave you to deal with whatever this is.”
Mack laughed. “P, you ain’t gotta leave on my behalf. I’m just checking in.”
Preston was about to walk around him when his mother turned toward Mack. “Nairobi Ellison is back in town,” she said casually.
Mack froze for half a second. Then he chuckled low, knowing. “Oh Lord,” he said. “That one?”
His mother nodded. “Mm-hmm. Pressy’s going on a date as we speak.”
“It’s not a date, ma.”
“It’s always a date with you two.”
Mack pulled the sunglasses off his face, eyes sharpening with interest. “That girl always did have a way of shaking things loose.”
“She’s already got Preston distracted,” his mother said. “I don’t like it.”
Mack smiled, slow and thoughtful. “Trouble got good timing.”
Preston looked at his mother “So to be clear, Spring being back in town is more troubling to you than the fact this man is in the same clothes he had on last night?”
Mack turned to Preston. “Hey superstar, why you trying to start trouble where they ain’t none?”
Preston stepped past him without another word. He got in the car and drove to the 59 Diner, the spot the gang would eat after school or when they’d skip. He thought fondly of those days as he drove. Before he realized it, he was parking. He picked a spot without thinking.
The 59 Diner sat under Highway 59 in Houston, off a side street that never tried to impress anybody.
Same brick front, same crooked chalkboard sign out front.
The kind of place you ended up when you were trying not to be seen – just trying to land somewhere familiar.
He had just sat down when she walked in.
She looked the same in the ways that counted. Different in the ways that meant time had passed.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he replied, standing halfway before deciding he didn’t need to.
They smiled. Small, careful.
She sat in the booth across from him.
“How you holding up today?” he asked.
She shrugged, setting her bag down. “About as good as I can fake.”
He nodded. “Fair.”
They ordered without talking much – muscle memory. Old rhythm resurfacing quietly. When the server had finished taking their orders, Preston examined her once again. “So,” he said. “How long you staying?”
She wrapped her hands around the cup like she needed the warmth. “I’m not sure. Cameron wanted me to have some of his things, stuff he kept here. I figured I’d go through it before I leave.”
Preston’s jaw tightened just slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t think I can do it alone.”
The words sat between them. The reality of it all weighing.
“I can help,” he said, immediately, then backtracked. “If you want.”
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I’d like that.”
The pair ate their meals over small talk, then headed over to Cameron’s place in their separate cars. It was smaller than she remembered.
They moved carefully, respectfully. Opening drawers, sorting papers, letting silence stretch where it needed to.
That’s when Preston stopped.
“Wait,” he said. He crouched near the back of a closet and pulled out a dusty frame.
She laughed before she even saw it. “No way.”
SpringFest. First place.
The four of them frozen mid-celebration: Preston pumping his fist in the air, Cameron throwing his head back, Brian holding the plaque like a trophy, and her in the middle, eyes wide like she hadn’t expected to win anything yet.
“I forgot about this,” she said softly.
“You ran that whole show,” Preston replied. “We just showed up loud.”
She shook her head. “That was the first time I felt like I belonged.”
He glanced at her. “You did.”
They stood there a moment longer, holding the frame between them, remembering.
For the first time since Cameron’s funeral, it didn’t feel like loss was the only thing in the room.