8. Josiah
Thursday Afternoon
Before I went into Lyric’s school, I sat in the truck with both hands resting on the steering wheel and talked to God like a man who knew better than to move without covering.
The pickup line crawled in front of me, all brake lights, book bags, ponytails, and tired parents trying to make it through the afternoon with patience still attached.
A little boy crossed the walkway, holding his mother’s hand.
A father crouched to tie his daughter’s shoe before kissing the top of her head.
A mother laughed while her daughter wrapped both arms around her knees and refused to let the hug end.
Family had a way of showing up in ordinary places and making a man tell the truth about what he wanted.
I bowed my head.
“Father God, before I ask You for anything, thank You. Thank You for keeping me when I thought I knew better than You. Thank You for correcting what pride tried to dress up as wisdom. Thank You for not letting every desire become a decision before I brought it to Your feet.
“Lord, I’m coming to You about Celeste because I don’t trust myself enough to move on feelings alone. She’s beautiful, and You know she is. But I don’t want to reduce one of Your daughters to what my eyes can see.
“Search my heart.
“If this is only attraction, kill it before I mishandle her. If this is loneliness, heal it before I place it in her hands. If this is ego, humble me before I confuse wanting her with being ready for her.
“Help me honor Big J without feeling threatened by what he planted. Don’t let me be foolish enough to compete with a man whose love still feeds that family.
Don’t let me step on roots I’m supposed to respect.
If You ever allow me to love them, teach me how to water what’s already there instead of trying to prove I belong.
“Cover her children. Cover JJ as he grows into manhood while grieving like a son. Cover Kayden and all that protection sitting heavy in his chest. Cover Maya, Zuri, and Skye in the places that still miss their daddy. If You ever allow me near them, make me patient enough to earn their trust and humble enough not to demand it. Give me hands that help, words that cover, and a heart that’s safe to trust.
“And if Celeste never chooses me, don’t let me become bitter.
Let me still honor her, do my work well, and leave her life better than I found it.
But if this pull is from You, ground me before You grow it.
Don’t let me pursue what I’m not prepared to cover.
Teach me how to love her without erasing what came before me, and teach me how to be a man her children never have to heal from.
“If You say no, I’ll obey. If You say wait, I’ll wait. If You say move, I’ll move with clean hands and a submitted heart. Have Your way, God. Not mine dressed up pretty. Yours. If this is love taking root, let it grow slow enough to be holy and deep enough to last. Amen.”
I sat there another moment, letting the prayer settle over me.
It didn’t leave me excited. It left me sober, and that told me it had reached the right place.
A man could get stirred up over a beautiful woman and still not be prepared for the life attached to her.
I wasn’t trying to chase a pretty face and call it purpose.
I was asking God to check every wire in me before I put my hands anywhere near Celeste Coleman’s peace.
A horn tapped lightly behind me, and I looked up, shifted into drive, and eased forward. “Message received.”
I parked, signed Lyric out at the front, and found her waiting with her backpack hanging off one shoulder and a purple bow clipped crooked in her hair. The second she saw me, she took off running. “Uncle Si-yuh!”
I bent before she reached me and caught her in both arms, lifting her just enough to make her squeal.
I kissed her cheek, fixed the bow leaning toward her ear, and held her there for a second, because Lyric gave hugs with her whole heart.
She had glitter near one eyebrow, marker on two fingers, and the satisfied look of a child who had survived school and expected the world to reward her for it.
She looked up at me. “Mama still in court?”
“Yep. Your daddy’s across town on a call, so you get me today.”
“That’s good. You smell like outside and peppermints.”
I laughed. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“It is. Can we get fries? And a lemonade? Please?”
I adjusted her backpack strap and tried to keep my face serious, but Lyric already knew she had a weak spot where I was concerned. “We’ll see what your mama says first, but I might know a place with good fries.”
Her whole face lit. “You the best uncle.”
“I was already aware, but I receive it.”
She slipped her small hand into mine without thinking, and something in my chest steadied.
Children trusted with their whole hand first and asked questions later.
Any man with sense learned to treat that as holy.
I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Songbird. Let’s get you home before your daddy starts acting like I kidnapped his baby for french fries. ”
We were heading toward the doors when I heard my name.
Onyx stood near the pickup area with one daughter beside him and Jamilah on his hip, babbling happily while tugging at the collar of his shirt.
He had the peaceful tiredness of a man who loved his family and had accepted that silence wouldn’t be part of his inheritance.
“Siah.”
I dapped him up. “What’s good?”
Onyx smiled too hard. “You. Apparently.”
I already knew where the conversation was headed. “Don’t start.”
“Nah, I’m starting. You were looking at my sister like the Lord Himself highlighted her in yellow.”
Lyric gasped. “Uncle Si-yuh got a girlfriend?”
“No.”
Onyx grinned. “Not yet.”
“You worse than Juice.”
“That’s family. I learned from the best.”
He adjusted Jamilah on his hip, and she reached toward Lyric. The girls started talking in their own way, part words, part sounds, all joy. Onyx watched them for a second before the clowning left his face.
Onyx asked, “For real, though, what is it?”
I looked across the parking lot as children poured out of the school doors in bright uniforms and crooked backpacks.
A joke would’ve been easy. Silence would’ve been safer.
But there were some men you didn’t lie to when they asked about a woman they loved like family. “It feels like I’m being drawn to her.”
Onyx didn’t laugh.
“I know she’s fragile. I know she’s got children, grief, history, and a husband people still speak about with respect. I’m not blind to any of that.”
“Good. Because Celly ain’t casual. Not her heart. Not her babies. Not what Big J left behind. She’s good people, Siah. One of the best women I know.”
“I see that.”
Onyx looked me straight in the face. “And you’re good people too. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. Y’all could be good together. But make sure you want everything attached to her, not just her smile. There’s a whole family standing behind that woman.”
I thought about her children, her shop, her tired laugh, and the way she carried love, even when her arms looked full.
“I know.”
“You up for that?”
I looked at Lyric holding Jamilah’s hand, then back at Onyx. “I wouldn’t be praying about it if I wasn’t.”
Onyx’s smile returned slowly. “All right then. I’m rooting for you.”
“Appreciate that.”
He dapped me up again, firmer this time. “Just don’t make me have to switch sides.”
“I’d expect you to.”
“Good answer.”
Later that evening, Celestial Crowns had settled into the tired hush businesses carried after serving everybody else all day.
The last client had left. Starr was gone.
The front stations were clean, and the back row still sat open with wires labeled, the wall marked, and the repair moving in the right direction.
Celeste stood behind the counter counting receipts, her locs falling over one shoulder.
She had a pencil tucked between two fingers, a calculator near her wrist, and exhaustion sitting at the edge of her face.
Still pretty. Still graceful. Still trying.
That was what pulled at me the hardest. Not perfection. The effort. She kept showing up to a life that still hurt. I watched her for a second longer than business required and remembered the prayer.
I nodded toward the receipts. “You eaten?”
She looked up. “Today?”
“That’s a terrible answer.”
“I had coffee and half a honey bun.”
“That’s worse.”
“Don’t judge me, Mr. Brooks.”
“I’m not judging. I’m intervening.”
Her smile tried not to show up and lost. “Intervening?”
“There’s a Mexican spot around the corner. Good food. Booths in the back. I’m taking a break before I finish labeling this run, and you need real food before you drive home.”
Her eyes lit before she could hide it.
I leaned against the counter and let myself smile. “Your pretty self wants to spend time with me.”
Her mouth fell open. “Josiah.”
“I said what I observed.”
“You observed wrong.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She grabbed her purse, still smiling. “I’m only going because I’m hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ten minutes later, we sat in a corner booth, surrounded by the clink of dishes and low conversation. Celeste looked at the table and laughed.
“We ordered like we just got rescued.”
“You said you liked Mexican food.”
“I do.”
“So do I.”
“This is excessive.”
“This is research.”
She dipped a chip into queso. “Research?”
“I needed to know if you were a fajita woman, an enchilada woman, or a taco woman.”
“What if I’m all three?”
“Then you’re balanced.”
She laughed again, easier this time. She moved some locs behind her ear, and I made myself look at the menu I’d already finished reading.
“Okay, electrician. What else do you like besides over-ordering and making up food assessments?”
“Cars. Boxing. Paintball. Wrestling when I was younger. Working with my hands. Science. Figuring out why something works, why it fails, and how to make it right without guessing.”