Chapter 5 Roman
Sibling Day always hit differently.
I woke up before my alarm, staring at the ceiling with an excitement I’d never admit out loud.
For twelve years, the first Saturday of every month belonged to my girls and me—no work, no coaching, no side missions.
Just Reagan, Reece, and whatever I could afford to remind them the world still gave a damn.
Mama and Pops had been gone twelve years, but this tradition kept them in the room with us. I promised them in that hospital chapel, voice shaking, palms sweating, that I’d always put my sisters first, and I kept my word.
I stretched, rubbed my face, and my first thought wasn’t Sibling Day. It was Solé.
I could see her big, light-brown eyes and those freckles, like God scattered light on purpose.
I could hear her voice too, soft with backbone, sweet without fragility.
She didn’t speak like she needed permission to exist, and I respected that.
And when she blushed, cheeks warming, freckles getting louder?
Man . . . I smiled to myself thinking about her.
And yeah, I thought about her body too, because I was still a man. But it wasn’t just her curves; it was her presence, like she’d been through things and still chose tenderness anyway. That took discipline and faith.
“I’m down bad,” I muttered, shaking my head as I rolled out of bed, amused, not ashamed. I’d been surviving so long, anything fresh had me side-eyeing my own heart.
By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, I could hear my sisters in the kitchen.
“I’m just saying he’s fine, and he’s been flirting all week,” Reagan said, voice wide awake.
“Nobody is that fine, and you barely know him,” Reece answered.
“I know he got nice teeth and good shoes. That’s enough for a hallway crush—”
I stopped in the doorway, wiping my beard with a towel. “Who got nice teeth?”
Both jumped like I caught them stealing cookies out of the cookie jar when they were smaller.
“Nobody,” they replied in unison, voices too innocent to be believable.
I narrowed my eyes. “I know y’all not discussing no knucklehead at eight in the morning.”
Reagan rolled her eyes. “We were having a hypothetical discussion.”
“Nah, you were having a ‘my brother about to find out who this young man is’ discussion.” I looked at her, tone even. “There is no flirting with anybody, especially when I haven’t looked him in the face yet.”
“You stay doing the most,” she muttered.
“And you not doing enough to hide your crush,” I said, pouring coffee like I wasn’t about to call my detective bro, Ahmad, for backup. “Reminder: nobody dating ’til thirty.”
Reece snorted into her cereal. “That’s illegal.”
“So is me acting twenty again and forgetting I’m on parole from the streets,” I said. “Any boy that wants your time gotta sit across from me first. If his energy off, he dismissed. Point blank period.” I even hit them with that little finger motion they loved doing to me.
They tried to hide their smiles, but they were amused.
They acted irritated, yet my rules made them feel safe, even if they’d never say it.
That was love: kids hated the fence until it kept them from falling.
And I meant it. I didn’t play about my sisters, and I didn’t play about Solé.
Everybody might as well get with the program.
I reached for the coffee pot, and my phone lit up. My chest jumped. My first thought, my Constellation. I checked the screen: unknown number with the district code.
I answered. “This is Roman.”
“Good morning, Mr. DeLane,” a woman said, professional but friendly. “This is Mrs. Hargrove, assistant principal at Self Ridge Senior High. We received your head swim coach application and would like to interview you Monday at 10 AM, if you’re available.”
I gripped the counter, pulse loud in my ears, mind snapping to stability—benefits, steady income, savings, peace. “Yes, ma’am, I’m available,” I said, voice steady.
“Wonderful. We’ll email the details. We’re excited to meet you,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. I appreciate the opportunity.”
We hung up, and I stood there a second, phone in hand, pulse loud. I didn’t shout; I just breathed. Gratitude came quietly, but heavily.
“Who was that?” Reece asked.
“It was Self Ridge High. I got an interview Monday for the head swim coach spot,” I said, letting a small grin through.
Reagan dropped her spoon into her bowl. “And I oop. Come on, favor.”
“That means you’ll be at our school all the time. You gon’ embarrass Reagan in public,” Reece said, smiling.
“That’s the part that brings me joy,” I said with a smirk, then I sobered up.
“But for real, this is big—benefits, steady money. I can be there if anything goes left, do what I love, and help the youth. This is good.” I rubbed my hands together like Birdman, excitement slipping through my calm. “I’m praying I get it.”
“We’re proud of you,” Reece said softly.
“We’ve always been proud. Now we just gon’ be well-fed proud,” Reagan added.
I laughed and pulled them into a quick hug, kissing the tops of their heads. “Alright, get dressed. It’s Sibling Day. I got a little stack on me. We’ll hit the mall, the nail shop—no lashes that look like you ’bout to take flight—then a movie, the whole nine. We celebrating in advance.”
Reagan perked up. “And pretzels?”
“And pretzels,” I agreed.
They scattered down the hall, arguing over outfits like it was a fashion show.
I opened Solé’s thread, thumb hovering. Old me would’ve overthought it, tried to sound detached. I wasn’t. I typed what I meant.
Me:
Good morning, My Constellation I pray today is as kind to you as you are beautiful. If it’s not, call me and I’ll handle that for you, baby.
I hit send before I could overthink myself into cowardice. The bubbles popped up, vanished, then popped back. She finally replied.
Future Wifey—My Constellation :
Good morning, handsome! Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.
My mouth twitched. I could picture her smirk, acting unbothered while enjoying the attention.
I must’ve been staring at my phone for too long because, when I looked up, the twins were standing in the doorway watching.
Reagan pointed at my face. “I ain’t know dark-skinned men could blush.”
“Brubbie, your ears are turning red,” Reece added, cracking up.
“Get out of my business and get your shoes,” I said, but my voice gave me away. I was smiling.
We hit The Pour House first, like always. This was our tradition now. We’d stop for coffee, hot chocolate, and pastries, then go straight to the mall afterward.
The bell chimed, and I saw her. Solé was behind the counter, curls spilling down her back, tee and jeans fitting her like confidence.
She wiped the espresso machine while helping a middle-school girl with homework, calm and patient.
Her gentleness looked expensive, not delicate, disciplined.
My chest warmed so fast it startled me. I didn’t rush; I just stood there, taking her in.
That’s her, I thought, not just because I wanted her, but because I respected her. And my protectiveness rose like it already knew its job.
Before I could move, Reagan leaned into my side, eyes wide like she’d just spotted a celebrity. “Ooh, the pretty teacher! She helped me find my class yesterday! She works here?”
Reece stayed cool, but her voice sparkled. “That’s Ms. S. Everybody says she’s phenomenal. I hope I get her for Honors next year, or her study group.”
My chest warmed and pinched. I could already see my sisters wanting to be under Solé’s wing—and the school trying to make it complicated.
Guilt hit quickly; I wasn’t letting anyone play with my girl or put her in an awkward spot.
Blessings always came with fine print. We’ll figure it out, I told myself.
There’s always a way that keeps everybody safe.
“Ms. S! Ms. S!” Reagan and Reece called out like they’d known her forever.
Solé looked up and smiled at them—warm, real—and it hit me square in the chest.
“Hey, beauties!” she said, genuinely excited. “What y’all doing here this early on a Saturday?”
Reagan pointed at me. “Our big brother got a crush, and we caught him blushing this morning, so we came to meet the mystery beauty that had him blushing.”
I shook my head like I was disappointed, but I was amused—and a little touched.
My sisters had no chill and no fear; that was what happened when kids grew up covered.
Still, my mind clocked it. Solé could’ve been an opp, and Reagan was handing out intel like group chat gossip. I stepped up behind them, unbothered.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I said—because manners and intention mattered. Then I cut my eyes at Reagan and Reece. “And baby girls, I think she know, since it’s her fine self I been bothering ever since she flung that drink on me.”
Solé’s eyes met mine, then dropped quickly. Her cheeks warmed, and her freckles told on her. “I did not fling my drink on you, sir. It was an accident,” she said, sweet but firm.
I leaned on the counter and lowered my voice for her. “I saw you in here before that game, patient with them kids. I didn’t bother you. That was Big G putting you in my orbit twice. Spill whatever you want on me, Connie. I’m not going nowhere.”
Her lashes fluttered. She busied herself with the register like the numbers could save her, but her freckles lit up, and her mouth betrayed her, fighting a smile and losing.
“Good morning, Roman,” NanNan called from down the counter, sharp and warm.
I straightened and smiled.
“Morning, Nan. How you doing, beautiful?”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I’m good, better if this gorgeous barista lets you take her out that door.”
My girls snickered like it was a show.
I shrugged. “You know I’m trying, Nan. I’m ready whenever she is.”