Chapter Nineteen
I HADN’T MEANT to say that much. Hadn’t meant to let it all spill out like a broken jar of truth, but once I started, I couldn’t stop Now the words hung in the air between us like smoke, thick, bitter, impossible to breathe through.
Zeke hadn’t flinched. Not when I said Gabrial’s name, not when I told him what I was, and what had been done to me. He just stood there. Solid. Unmoving. Like a mountain I didn’t know I deserved.
“You got me now, Sable. Don’t ever forget it.” He’d said, and those words made something in me crack. Not loud. Not visible. Just a hairline fracture along a part of me I’d built walls around years ago.
I stared at him. Waiting for the disgust. The recoil. The shift in his eyes that said he thought I was ruined, but it didn’t happen. He just looked at me like I was... worth holding on to.
That was almost worse.
I didn’t know what to do with kindness that didn’t come with a price. His hands on my arms weren’t rough. Weren’t claiming. Just warm. Comforting. I felt like I’d stepped off a cliff, and instead of falling on rock, I landed on something soft.
“I don’t understand you,” I whispered.
His brow pulled, just a little. “What d’you mean?”
“You should’ve walked away.”
He gave a small shake of his head. “Yeah, well. I don’t do should.”
I looked down at his boots. Worn leather. Scuffed. Real. I didn’t know what made me more scared, Gabrial finding me, or the idea that someone like Zeke might actually mean what he said.
I’d spent too long learning how to survive without anyone. Too long thinking love came with pain and devotion meant obedience. But this… this didn’t feel like that, and that scared me, because I had no clue how to deal with it.
So, I said the only thing I could.
“Okay.”
Just that.
Small. Hollow sounding, but it was all I had to give right now.
The silence stretched. I thought it might swallow us both whole until the soft creak of the floor broke it.
“Momma?” Malik’s voice. Thin, uncertain.
I turned quick, breath catching, and there he was in the doorway. His hair stuck up on one side like he’d just rolled from bed, Zara’s small hand tucked into his. She was half-asleep, teddy clutched tight, eyes wide and searching.
For me. For him.
I moved too fast, arms already out, but Malik didn’t move toward me. He stood tall in that way only little boys trying to be men do, shoulders squared, eyes flicking between me and Zeke.
“Everything okay?” he asked. His voice was calm, but I heard the fear threaded through it. He’d lived long enough under Gabrial to know something heavy had just happened.
“Yeah, baby,” I said softly. “Everything’s fine.”
Zeke crouched down slow, resting his forearm across one knee so he wasn’t towering over them. His voice dropped warm, calm. “Y’all hungry? I can make up somethin’ in the kitchen.”
Malik didn’t answer right away. His eyes narrowed, protective, measuring Zeke like he was still deciding if this man was safe enough to trust. Zara tugged on his hand, whispering around her thumb, “Cereal.”
Zeke gave her the ghost of a smile. “Cereal I can do.”
That broke some of the tension. Zara shuffled closer, tugging Malik with her, and he finally relented, letting them both pad into the room.
Malik’s eyes lingered on Zeke like he was still waiting for him to prove himself. Zara, though, she didn’t wait.
“Cereal,” she mumbled again, softer this time.
Zeke’s mouth tugged in that half-smile of his. “Cereal it is.”
He moved into the kitchen, easy, like he’d done this before, but I knew he hadn’t, at least, not for anyone else. He’d brought groceries yesterday, bags left on the counter without explanation. Now he was pulling open cupboards, finding what he’d stocked, like he’d lived here his entire life.
Zara padded after him, curls bouncing, teddy dragging across the floor. She climbed into one of the mismatched chairs, legs swinging. Malik stayed in the doorway, shoulders squared, hand clamped tight on mine.
“Come on, Malik,” I whispered. “It’s alright.”
He didn’t move. His eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room, then the window, like he half-expected this to be a trap.
Zeke poured cereal into bowls, added milk, and slid one in front of Zara. She grinned and dug in, crunching loud. Then he reached into the cupboard, pulled out the chocolate syrup, and tipped it into a glass of milk before sliding it across the table.
“Not every day I share my favorite stuff,” he said, his drawl easy. “But you look like the kind who’d appreciate it.”
Malik hesitated. His eyes flicked to me, not suspicious—afraid. He’d overheard more than I thought. Knew his father’s name was back in the air. Close enough to fear.
Slowly, he crossed the floor and sat beside Zara. His hand brushed hers under the table, protective even as he picked up the glass.
Zara giggled when the cereal splashed milk onto the wood. Zeke grabbed a rag from the counter and wiped it clean without a word. The sight of him, broad shoulders bent over the table, steadying her bowl like it was nothing, did something dangerous to me.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to keep my breathing even. This wasn’t Zeke’s house. Wasn’t mine either. Just four walls, a roof, cupboards filled with food we hadn’t begged for. But somehow, right here, it almost felt like safety.
Almost.
Because Malik’s eyes never left the door.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet, careful. “Who were those men?”
The question cut straight through me.
Zeke set the rag down, straightened. His voice was steady when he answered. “Brothers of mine. Devil and Mystic. They ain’t here to hurt you, son. Wouldn’t turn you over, neither. Not their way.”
Malik’s shoulders stayed stiff. “They looked… dangerous.”
Zeke’s jaw worked. “They are. To the wrong kind of people. But not to y’all. Not to your momma.”
Malik stared at him a long time, chewing slow, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe it. His fear sat heavy in his eyes, too big for a boy his age to carry.
I reached for his shoulder, squeezed gently. “It’s alright, Malik. You can trust him.”
But I knew trust wasn’t a switch that flipped. Not for me. Not for my son.