Chapter 8 Solé
My relationship with Roman had given me such joy, and now I had more than my NanNan and Mel. I had two teenaged little sisters I absolutely adored. Since Roman had set up that date for me, I had Jazz and Jonay as well. My little community had grown, and I absolutely loved it.
It wasn’t loud love, no fireworks or mess.
It was quiet, like a warm kitchen light when the world went dark, loosening my shoulders before I even noticed they were tense.
I’d been carrying life like groceries with no bags, palms burning, still swearing I was fine.
Now I had people reaching for the weight without making me ask.
They were sweet. Jazz and Ahmad were hilarious, and I loved their banter. Their relationship was cute to see play out. Elias and Jonay were goals. He loved her with all of him, and I absolutely loved that for her. She had him gone in a good way.
Watching them felt like proof in motion, love that stayed sturdy.
A man, gentle without shrinking, protective without controlling, devoted without making it feel like a debt.
I studied their little moments like literature, hunting for the pattern that made the story work.
And every time Elias looked at Jonay like she was home, my chest softened and ached, my heart finally admitting I deserved that love too, .
. . and I was happy to be receiving it at last.
Now I just needed Mel and Bryce to stop playing in each other’s faces and get it together.
My girl was giving him the blues. I knew she liked him, and I knew why she was guarded.
Her ex had cheated just like mine, and she wasn’t ready to trust just yet.
When she did, my boy was going to change her life.
I knew that guardedness. I wore mine like perfume, making it look light so that nobody clocked it was armor. I could laugh and still be on watch, smile, and keep one foot near the exit. Trust hadn’t just been broken; it had been handled carelessly, like it was disposable.
So, when I saw Mel holding the line, giving Bryce space but not access, I didn’t judge her. I recognized her. And it made me grateful I finally had somebody patient enough to help me take my armor off, and I prayed she’d let her knight find a place in her heart, too.
We laughed and talked as we walked in and out of different stores, trying to find some things for Nan and talking the twins out of grabbing outfits that were cute but a little too grown for their age.
Reagan had the confidence of a celebrity with a stylist, and Reece had the quiet grace of a girl who knew she could outsmart a whole room without raising her voice.
My laughter was still warm in my throat when it happened, still sweet on my tongue like I’d been tasting joy and didn’t realize how fast it could morph into something else.
It should’ve felt normal. Easy. It should’ve been one of those afternoons you fold up and tuck into your memory.
I was still smiling at something Mel said, something about Bryce acting like he doesn’t want love, and evidence number one being his hoodie collection, when my whole body went quiet the way it did right before thunder.
I felt a light tap on my shoulder. It was light and casual, but my body responded like it had been punched.
That was the first warning. Not my mind, not my heart, but my body.
My skin tightened like it was trying to pull itself inward. My spine stiffened. My breath thinned.
I turned around, and there was Harris Henderson.
My stomach dropped so fast I swore my soul hit the floor first. He looked too comfortable, like seeing me in public was a privilege he thought he earned.
His eyes did that thing I hated, sliding over me like I was something to consume instead of a person who had told him no in every language I knew.
That gaze always made me feel like my kindness had been mistaken for permission, like my softness had been misread, mislabeled.
“Solè,” he said, smiling like we were sharing a secret. “Can we talk?”
My mouth went dry. My heart picked up speed like it was trying to outrun me. I tasted copper behind my teeth, the metallic edge that fear brought when it was trying not to look like fear.
I stepped to the side to get out of his way. “No.”
He slid with me, blocking my path like a petty little wall. “I just wanted to apologize,” he said, voice lowering into something fake-sincere. “For how things went at work. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I was . . . frustrated.”
I didn’t answer. I tried to step around him again.
He sighed. “You always do that. You do this little . . . this little act where you pretend you’re scared. But you’re not scared, Solè. You like the attention.”
My chest tightened. My face stayed calm because I had learned how to keep my fear tucked behind my teeth. I learned that as a girl, learned it as a woman, learned it in every room where men felt entitled to the parts of you. You never offered fear to them.
“Move,” I said again.
He laughed under his breath. “You don’t want ties to a co-worker, but you’re fucking another teacher,” he continued, head tilting, eyes narrowing like he was proud of himself.
My vision tunneled. I didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing until Jazz’s hand slid into my arm. That touch was like an anchor. It reminded me I was not alone. I had a circle now. I had people who would step into the fire with me, not stand behind me asking why I was burning.
Jonay stepped in at the same time, her voice smooth but firm. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Mr. Henderson’s eyes flicked to her like she was gum on the bottom of his shoe. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Jonay didn’t move. “She looks uncomfortable. I was just checking on her to make sure she was okay.”
He scoffed. “Bitch! I said this doesn’t concern you. Y’all women love drama.”
My stomach clenched, not because of the word, but because of the confidence behind it—the ease. Disrespect rolled off him like it was his native language.
Jazz was already shaking her head and pulling her phone out, thumbs flying. She didn’t even speak, just called. I knew exactly who she was dialing.
Mr. Henderson leaned in closer to me, invading my space like he had a right.
“You’re a tease. That’s the problem. You want to act innocent while you do what you do. You are a fucking hypocrite,” he whispered.
The whisper felt louder than the mall. It felt like a hand over my mouth. It felt like my classroom all over again, except now, there were lights and shoppers and nowhere to hide.
Mel made a sound, sharp and disgusted. “Who the hell are you talking to?”
He snapped his head toward Mel. “Stay your ass out of this.”
Reece and Reagan had gone quiet behind us, the way teenagers did when they sensed something grown was happening. My instincts pulled them behind me, away from him, away from this moment. I wanted to be a wall, but walls got tired too. Even walls needed back-up.
He pointed to Jonay. “And you, who even are you? She got a whole crowd of bitches now? Some kind of gang of bitches?”
Jazz’s phone was still at her ear. Her eyes never left his face. “Baby, we have some rude, Fat Albert nigga calling us out our names in The Rooted Rack. He’s all in Jonay and Solé’s face. Please get here expeditiously,” she said, low and urgent.
She looked at Harris with a smirk and retorted, “You have royally fucked up. Please keep that same energy, fat ass Carlton looking muthafucka!”
Mr. Henderson heard it and got louder, like the volume could make him right. “Get out of my business! I’m talking to her, not y’all. She can speak for herself!”
I forced my voice to work again. “I said, leave me alone!”
He stared at me like he couldn’t believe I had the audacity to stand on my own now. Then he reached for me, not aggressively at first, just . . . claiming.
His hand closed around my arm, fingers biting in, and my body went ice-cold, skin trying to leave before I could. He tugged like I was movable, like he could pull me away from my people and call it normal.
And I hated how familiar it felt, not from my past, but from womanhood itself. That moment a man treated your boundaries like suggestions, and your no like something he could debate with his hands.
I heard the ladies screaming for him to get off me, to let me go, and saw them shielding the girls away from the chaotic scene.
And then, a fist went flying.
It was so fast I barely saw who swung first. I just saw Mr. Henderson’s head jerk back, his shoulders stumble, his mouth open in shock, like he couldn’t believe consequences existed. Ahmad’s voice cut through the chaos like a siren.
“See, this that bullshit I be talking about, bruh! I can’t go nowhere off duty with you heathens. Just like when we were kids. Damn! Are you good, Beauty?” He rattled off, then checked in on Jazz as she nodded her yes at him.
Roman, Elias, and Ahmad were there, Roman tall and furious, Elias moving with that calm, reserved danger energy. Ahmad scanned the area as if he was counting cameras and exits.
Jonay didn’t miss a beat. “He tapped her on the shoulder,” she said, pointing. “She looked uncomfortable. I came over. He dismissed me. Then he called me out my name.”
Elias’s ears perked up so quickly it was almost funny if it wasn’t terrifying. He let out this slight, off-kilter laugh, like his brain enjoyed violence the way some people enjoyed dessert.
“What he said to you, Gorgeous?” he asked Jonay, voice too calm for the moment.
Jazz snapped. “Don’t answer that nigga.”
Ahmad echoed it instantly. “Please don’t answer that nigga, sis. Matter fact—” He pointed down the corridor. “I’m pulling cameras. I’m bribing witnesses if I gotta. I’m off duty. It’ll be our word against anybody else’s. I don’t trust these mall folks.”
Mel grabbed my hand. “Solè, are you okay?”