Chapter 49: Smart Girls Don't Give Up

Marley

I'm making pancakes.

I understand why people in a live-in relationship sometimes gain weight.

Pancakes? Cookies? Brownies?

Sugar is like a magical absorber of anger.

It's impossible to be angry eating sugary goodness.

But I'm not eating yet. Right now I'm just whisking.

Whipping up a little batter and lot of emotion.

Darius sidles into the kitchen. He opens the refrigerator quietly, but the whole time he's watching me. "Pancakes and bacon? On a weekday?"

"Yes. My apology for...yesterday morning. I'm sorry I didn't get up and see you off to school properly."

"It's okay. I'm not a little kid. I can get myself ready."

"I know that, Darius. I'm very proud of how capable you are. But I still like being there at the start your day."

He watches me. I focus on the batter. He goes to the garage and opens the door.

He comes back, sipping his orange juice, a little more relaxed.

"So he did come home last night? I mean, that's his new car? The Tesla?"

"Yes, he did. I would assume so."

"Ok. So..." His brows are furrowing, his eyes narrowing. He looks like his father. Calculating. "You don't think it was some rock star party spiral thing?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, where was he all evening?"

"I don't know, Darius." I whisk harder.

"You aren't gonna ask him?"

I throw the whisk into the sink and spoon batter onto the hot griddle. I turn the sizzling bacon.

"No, I'm not going to ask him. He has an unconventional career, and I'm not his keeper anymore. He told me yesterday morning he had business. I was aware he had some stuff to do. It's really none of my concern exactly where he was. If I were still working at my old job, I would be out in the evenings sometimes too, holding group sessions, seeing patients who need after-hours appointments. I wouldn't like the idea that I needed to report my specific whereabouts for every appointment or group session to him. Relationships are about trust."

"I thought they were about good communication," he says quietly.

Sometimes Darius really annoys me. He's too damn smart for a thirteen year old kid. "Boundaries, Darius. You and Bodie and I are one thing. We are learning to be a family unit. But me and Bodie figuring out our thing? That's something different."

"Well I don't see it like that. He didn't come home to us, last night. He missed dinner, he missed my practice. I was just worried that he was...gone or something. That he wouldn't—"

"That I wouldn't come home?" Bodie says from the kitchen stairs. He walks right up to Darius. He cups the back of Darius' head and bends down the few inches it takes to meet Darius' eyes. "There's no wouldn't to the question of me ever comin' home to you and your mama. There is only...couldn't, okay? I was in a business thing that ran longer than I would have liked. I couldn't cut out on that. It's all good, Dawg." He moves to the coffee pot, giving me a quick kiss on the temple on the way.

Darius crosses his arms. "What kind of business thing? Were you downtown? Some kind of studio session or something?"

"Or something," Bodie says tolerantly, snagging a piece of hot bacon from the pan, dropping it quickly on a paper towel, blotting and shoving it his mouth.

Darius watches him. "Or something? That's weak, Dad."

Bodie groans and rolls his palms over his short hair as he chews. He looks tired. Annoyed. I have the sudden worry that maybe he's hungover. "Dawg—"

"Darius," I interject "You need to take a breath and remember who is the parent here—"

"Are you kidding me? You're on his side? He's not acting like a parent, bailing like that. TJ would never—"

"TJ was with me last night Darius, because we had business to take care of."

"What kind of legit business happens after like...8pm?" Darius retorts. I bite back the urge to tell my kid he sounds like a Boomer.

"The business development kind of business. TJ and I were...fleshing some stuff out with potential business associates. I am not just a drummer in a band. My brand is changing. I'm diversifying. I'm trying to start my own label, remember? Plus, I have other capital ventures here in Atlanta. Sometimes you mix your ventures, and your business partners. Sometimes you mix your business with pleasure."

"Like, at a bar? Or a club? Were you drinking? Or worse?" Wow, Darius is like a bulldog right now.

"At a private party, but I was not partying. Call TJ if you don't believe me. Although you might want to wait, because he's probably getting this same shit at his house. From his woman, who has a right to have a beef with him for not texting about the late night—" he turns to me his hands folded like in prayer, "for which I sincerely apologize to your mother, because I'm still learning how to live with my girlfriend—" then he turns back to Darius, "But I doubt very seriously that TJ would put up with this attitude from his kid," Bodie says with a warning tone.

"His kid is four years old."

"That's right. And his butt gets disciplined when he cuts out of line," Bodie says. "So why don't I hold onto your phone for the day so you won't be distracted? That way you can think about how you want our relationship to go. Because, I have to tell you, Darius, I'm not liking the sudden rise of hostility and accusation on your part. I promise you, I'm doing everything I can to be a stand-up dad, but I need you to respect that."

Darius laugh is bitter. "Wow. Cool rock star turns Instadad turns asshole in less than a week."

I dump the mostly empty bowl in the sink, splashing pancake batter everyone. "Darius, that's enough!" I say sternly, pointing the spatula at him. "You can't talk to your father like that! That is over the line!"

"Which line, Marley? I never know where the line is with you. Cause you might move it up to Midtown to play house with a dude who didn't even want you, just a cover life. Or you might quit your job that has always been more important than me—but suddenly it's not—just to park it over here in Old Fourth Ward. To play fangirl to a rockstar that only wants exactly the opposite of what Marc wanted from you. You are so freakin' flaky. All you care about is a guy's attention—"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Darius!"

Bodie's anger explodes into his physicality. He lurches slightly toward Darius, catching himself at once, rolling back on his heels, a look of distress on his face as he deflates his posture.

But Darius caught the aggressive motion. He jerked, too. Away from Bodie. Now his eyes are wide and he's looking rapidly between us. His eyes flit to the door.

Fight or flight. Darius is scared.

Darius' words hurt, but the anxiety in his being hurts me so much worse.

It is terrible thing to see your baby in fear or pain.

Bodie holds out a hand to Darius. "I'm sorry," he says calmly. He looks at me. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Darius throws up his hands. "I'm out."

A fleeting picture of Trace flashes in my brain. My heart hurts for every wounded boy. But Darius' wounds have nothing to do with Bodie. I'm the one that cut him. His words just showed that.

I block the garage door. Darius tries to gently move me out of the way, not looking at me. When I won't budge, he turns toward the back door. I grab him by the arms. "You are not out," I tell him. "I will not let you go. I will never choose anyone or anything over you. Ever again. Not even your father. Okay?"

He just stands there, looking at the floor. I hug him hard. Eventually, he hugs me back.

"Will you take me to school?" he mumbles.

"Yes," I say, grabbing my keys and a stack of pancakes for him to eat.

Bodie looks at me with anguish. I can't look at him. There's too much hurt.

As I head back to the garage door and Darius hoists his book bag, Bodie holds out his hand to Darius. "Darius. Your phone."

Darius looks at me. "Is he serious? He tried to fight me," Darius whispers.

Bodie shake his head. "Darius, I would never fight you, or hit you. I would never try to physically discipline you—you are way too old for that. But I am a creative, emotional person. And a very physical person. When I get pissed off? My body language is likely to show that. And you just really pissed me off. Here's why:

"There is no one on this planet more capable of hurting your mother than you, because she loves you more than anyone. And it seems like you know that, because you have an expert way of twisting the knife in old wounds between the two of you.

"I love your mother and I don't want to see her hurt, especially over you. It tears me up that I should have been there the whole time, helping her. Helping you. Making our family strong. So that is a very sore spot in our new family dynamic, okay? The way you just talked to her? The things you said? Made me want to lose my shit when I saw the pain in her face.

"I'm wrapping my head around how to behave like a father. I screwed that up just now. I screwed it up last night, too. I could have sent a simple text to let your mom and you know that I was trying to get home to you as soon as I could. I admit, I've got some growth to do in the family man department.But there is no doubt about one thing: I don't have to psych my heart up to love you."

He taps his chest. "I feel it. I love you. It's a weird fucking thing, how all my priorities have completely reoriented. I'm all about you, Darius. You and your mom."

"So we are gonna have to figure this thing out. Me and you. It's okay for you feel frustrated or resentful toward me or your mom because we have a relationship separate from you. It's also okay to be angry or worried because I have an addiction. I know I haven't proven you can count on me yet. But it is not okay to try to hurt your mother on purpose with hateful words, just to vent those feelings. I'm not gonna stand for that. You get me?"

Darius responds by slapping his phone into Bodie's hand and walking out the garage door. Bodie's patient gaze on his back refocuses on my face. His empathetic smile is tragic. It moves me in a way I can't sort out.

Darius and I don't say much on the way to school. I ask him if he's sure he is in a good place for his first class, but he doesn't answer. I suggest he could go late and we could get breakfast, but he just raises his stack of pancakes and stuffs it in his mouth.

As he's getting out of the car in the school line, he pauses, his hand on the door. "I'm sorry."

I just nod. "This is hard, for all of us. It's okay. "

He puts a hand to his forehead. "It's not. I'm not a little kid anymore. I know...one day I'm gonna say sorry and it's not going to be good enough."

"Maybe. To a friend. To a girlfriend. To a boss. To someone you like or someone you admire or someone who's approval you need. But not to me. Not to your father. Families forgive. Families never give up."

He nods slowly. "Do you think he drank or did drugs last night?"

I think about the way Bodie was quick to offer TJ as a character witness. That's very defensive. And very likely that TJ would protect Bodie from Darius' accusation, no matter what the truth. Would TJ tell me the truth, if I asked him? I think maybe he would, but I don't have any desire to start off like that with Bodie. I would much rather ask Bodie, than TJ.

"I don't know. Maybe," I concede. "But he's not drinking or doing drugs today. Today, he's fighting for us to be a family. So let's fight for him, okay? If you're really sorry, Darius...help me fight for him. For us."

I drive to the park after I drop off Darius. I sit there thinking through everything. Bodie made a mistake, losing his temper like that, but he did all the right things after. He's trying so hard. I know he loves me. I know he loves Darius.

But how many co-dependent women do I counsel. Women in relationships with addicts, who constantly forgive unacceptable behavoirs from their partners, because they rely on their partners to validate their worth?

I look this six figure car that I am sitting in. Is that what I'm doing?

Does Bodie's attention and lavish affection make me feel worthy? Is that why I am willing to live like this? Looking the other way on whatever dangerous situation Bodie is putting himself in? Am I being completely delusional that this can end well? For that matter, can I realistically expect him to deal in thugs drugs and not, on some recreational level, act like a thug and use drugs?

He texts me.

Are you okay?

Me: I'm not sure.

Him: Me either. Can we talk? Please come home.

My heart drops. I put the car in drive and glide through the streets on this sunny morning. To an outsider, I look like the picture of perfection. Inside, I feel like my world is...ugly.

Bodie is sitting at the kitchen table eating pancakes. The minute I walk in the door he rises. He compliments the pancakes and thanks me for breakfast as he makes me a plate. The way he does that is nothing new; he's been very helpful around the house the whole time we've been co-habitating. The familarity relaxes me somewhat.

He pauses after forking the pancakes and bacon on the plate.

"Syrup today? Or berries and whipped cream?"

He's always paying attention. He knows I eat them both ways.

"Load it up," I tell him with a huff of frustration. I need all the sweetness I can get.

He decorates my pancakes with a raspberry heart, outlined in whip cream, before drizzling on the maple syrup.

No one has decorated my pancakes since I was about ten years old. The berry design blurs as my eyes swim. Bodie massages my shoulders for a minute, saying nothing. Eventually I lift my head, blinking away the tears. I take a bite.

Seeing me eat, he returns to his plate.

"Thank you. You are...the best."

"I'm really not," he says, "But I am trying to better myself. I'm sorry I lost my cool with him. He's a great kid, but that chip on his shoulder is hard to cope with sometimes."

"Yes, it is. And I know it's new to you. I don't think he meant to be unkind to me."

Bodie chops his pancakes with a fork and manfully chews them. After a long pause. He shakes his head.

"I disagree, Marley. He absolutely did. When he hurts, he wants you to hurt. That's a bad habit that's gotta stop.If you don't stop it, I damn sure will. But it's better if we show a united front on his behavoir—what won't tolerate."

"It's my fault though. He feels...abandoned. Rejected. I did that."

"You didn't abandon or reject him. Not like my dad or your birth mother. You never turned your back on him. You struggled, is all. You did a damn sight better than many parents. And you're not doing him any favors, accepting his hateful words just because you feel guilty. You need to make sure he doesn't treat you like that. "

"Well, that might be true, but I do feel guilty. It's hard for me to overcome."

"Then don't do it for you. Do it for Gwennie. Do it for his future wife."

I blink. "What?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Well, I don't mean that, exactly. I meant...do it for Gwennie and his future wife and all the potential girls in between. Because the way he's trained/coached/allowed to treat his mother? That's the way he will treat all of them. If you allow yourself to be his emotional doormat, he'll be wiping his feet on women for the rest of his life."

I look down at my pancakes, rolling the berries around.

Bodie is right. I know he's right.

Actually, he's shockingly right.

It's just so hard for me to be tough with Darius. Our time together has always been abrupted, for one reason or another, and I've really gotten into the bad habit of trying to salvage every situation and make it as pleasant as possible, no matter what his behavoir is like.

"What are you thinkin'?" he asks.

I reach for his hand across the table. "I'm thinking you are an amazing person, father, partner. I'm thinking your insight is so helpful to me. I'm thinking I would like to try it your way, and show Darius that respect is a huge part of love."

He catches up my hand and kisses it. "Sound's like a plan, Mama. We will help each other. Listen, there's another thing. I'd like to pick him up from school today."

I nod. "Yes, maybe you guys should have a one on one discussion about what happened today."

Bodie sighs. "There's that. There's also that little learning lesson I set up with Cam Martin?"

Suddenly, I have no appetite. I was never too keen on Bodie's idea to teach Darius the hard lessons about guns, but now, given their argument... "I'm not sure that's a good idea right now, Bodie."

"I am," he says firmly. "Not even just for the original reasons I wanted to do it. Because of this morning, too. The boy's got questions about where I was last night. I don't what to lie to him outright. I need to show him, what's on the line."

Fire lights up my skin. "You can't mean to tell him—"

"No, not about the sting. But I need him to understand why I can't tell him some things and I need him to understand why keeping this secret about his paternity is critical. And I want to take TJ with me to do it." Bodie watches me carefully as he says, "He and I talked about it. He's down with it."

I stab my pancakes. I see the implication here. "So it's like that? Two against one? Dads overule Mom?"

"Of course not. Darius has one legal parent and that's you. You get all the say, Marley. But I want to earn my place. And I'm not above seeking help from TJ to do that. He knows the boy better than I do. He knows you better than I do, in some ways. If Darius needs a hard lesson, I trust TJ to help guide that lesson. The question is, do you trust the two of us?"

I do. And I trust Cam. He has a good heart, even if he is a little priveleged. "Okay. You can take him to Emory. I'm here he needs PTSD counseling after..."

"We're not gonna traumatize him," Bodie laughs gently.

I don't know about that. Bodie seems pretty traumatized sometimes, over his "hard lessons." I push pancakes in my mouth to push my imagined images of Cain Priestly away.

After we finish our pancakes, I take put the dishes in the sink while Bodie washes the bacon pan. When he finishes, I make a move to go upstairs, but he takes me by the hands.

"Uhhhmmm, there's a bit more I think we should talk about."

I feel more drained from our morning than I ever have from a group therapy I've led. "Haven't we had enough drama?"

He pulls me into a gentle hug. "Yes. For a lifetime. Believe me, what I would really like to do is take you to bed and stay there for at least a month. Sleeping and sexing. But we should talk about last night."

I sigh, hugging him back, rubbing his back, rocking my head on his collarbone. "Not so much. I'm not angry anymore...I just don't think you understood how worried I was. You tell me you are going out to do the kind of business I shouldn't ask about and I don't hear from you for fourteen hours. I was really scared."

"I get it. I never want to make you scared. I'm not used to having anybody at home waiting. That won't happen again, okay? I'll do my best to check in every few hours."

"Promise?"

I reaches over to touch my face. "I promise." He gently disengages. "But there's something else I promised you, Marley. I don't want to, but I have to tell you something."

My heart starts to race. I'm sure what he has to say. I just don't know how bad.

"Tell me."

"I promised you I would tell you every time. So here it is. I drank last night. I smoked weed. That's not the worst. I......I...fuck, baby...last night I snorted smack."

I feel like I might vomit. I'm looking at this man, and feeling like my reality doesn't even make sense. The drinking I expected. Maybe even the weed. How could he go right back to heroin?

I stand up abruptly, knocking over the chair. "Are you fucking kidding me?...Bodie...you snorted heroin? Why would you even do that? The methadone blocks the high..."

He grabs my wrist. "Sit. Listen. Please."

I stare down at his hand on my wrist. He's not hurting me, but I promised myself another man would never hold me against my will. "Take your hand off me."

He releases me, but I don't move. I look down at his calm face. His anguished eyes, lightened with feeling.

"I meant what I said to Darius. I can't choose you over him, if you choose drugs. I won't put him through that."

"I know that. That is why I'm trying to tell you the truth. Before I...we...move forward . Before I put on the rock star mojo on and cloud your judgment like a fangirl.Before I make love to you with lies on my lips. Please, Jasmine. Two minutes. Sit. Listen."

He turns up the chair upright and holds it out for me. Slowly I lower, but my heart is trying to run away on me. From him. From ever feeling again, because it doesn't want to break.

"I did not want to do any of those things. But this situation—the drug sting—it required me to...fit in. What would these bangers think if I'm trying to negotiate a multi-million dollar drug deal but I'm notably enforcing my own sobriety? That doesn't...play right, Marley. It trips alarm bells. About my values. Motivations. It sets me apart. Can you see that?

"So peer pressure caused you to use heroin!?!?"

I know my voice is near hysterical but I can't help it. I try to rise again, but Bodie gets on his knees in front of my chair, putting his hands on the chair bottom, on either side of me.

"Baby, please. Hear me out, okay?"

"Bodie—"

"I took the barest couple of sips from a liquor drink and one hit off a blunt while I was getting vetted by five rival gang leaders. The smack was something else."

"Wait. What? What rival gangs? What do you mean, something else?"

"Daemon is growing Sixmob. Five new gangs coming under his leadership. They don't know me and they don't trust necessarily trust Daemon. I had to prove my product, do you understand? Or else, none of this is going to happen. The sting operation, taking Daemon down, dismantling these gangs..."

"What do you mean, prove your product?"

"Last night was a sampling. No rival gang leadership coming to the table to talk about consolidating was going to trust me as the supplier if I won't sample my own product. In their eyes, if I wasn't willing...that would have shown them something wasn't right. I could have been a narc. I could have been acting on Daemon's behalf to poison them so Sixmob could take their turf outright. These new guys...they had to see that I was all in. That's why I had to snort the smack. Proof of product. Proof of intent."

I'm struggling to understand. "So...you already brought heroin back with you from the Philippines?"

"Yes. Well, no. I got it in Thailand."

"But...you told me the drugs were coming later. That there weren't going to the street."

"I lied," he says simply. "I lied to you because I hate the idea of putting drugs in kids' hands, and I hate the idea of you knowing that's what I am doing. But I can't lie to you, Marley. I won't. I might not tell you everything, but I won't lie."

"Fine, don't lie. But don't do this." I say automatically.

"It's too late to back out."

"Bodie, you can't."

"It's done."

"You are willing to risk innocents? Many desperate people? Troubled kids? For me? For my life? For Darius? "

He's still on his knees. He takes my hands in his, resting our joined hands in my lap. He looks at them twined, then up at me.

His eyes are dark and savage and sure.

"I can't save every kid in trouble. But I can protect my own, and his mother. That doesn't make me a bad man, Marley. It makes me your man."

I close my eyes. The weight of his hands in my lap is nothing compared to the weight of his gaze, imploring me to see things his way.

Dr. Watkins is trying to tell me to run from this man. She whispers warnings and statistics and the proof of personal tragedies she has witnessef. Dr. Watkins begs me to let go and take our son and get out of Bodie's life. Dr Watkins wants her job—her old job— back. She wants her control back.

The problem? Dr. Watkin's life was never my own. It was a sad shadowbox...a carefully crafted still shot.

A lifeless scene. A loveless tableau.

Not a real life. A real family. A real love.

What did I tell Darius about his father just this morning?

Families forgive. Families never give up.

I let go of one of Bodie's hands and stroke his shorn head. The wildness in his eyes softens. He bows his head to my hand still clasped tight in his and presses his love to it.

With honest lips.

"I don't want to hear anymore about rival gangs and proof of product," I say. "I want to know what happened to you. After you snorted the heroin."

"I didn't expect to feel anything. I thought that was the whole fucking point of methadone. But the rush...was there. It felt good. In minutes, I was thinking about doing a line of crushed oxy as a follow-up, but I didn't. I got out of there, with TJ. We sobered up, but I was still thinking about more."

I slide forward on the chair, stroking his brow as I frown. "That's not good, Bodie. The methadone should have blocked the high. That means—"

"I know what it means. I'm not taking enough for my particular brain chemistry. Or maybe because I missed doses, I didn't have enough in my system. I took another half dose last night. And a pill and a half just now."

"We have to tell your methadone counselor at the clinic. You shouldn't be splitting pills, that's inaccurate dosing. You need a new prescription. They will increase your dose properly because of the relapse."

"It wasn't a relapse," he snaps. "It was...a necessary evil."

"Okay, yes. But we still have to cope by sliding your methadone dose. Psychologically knowing you can get high? Craving the drugs you have to be around? It will be like torture for you. We'll move the dose so there's no high possible. No cravings. No more hell? Okay? No more..."

They will make me drug test. I will fail. The label—"

"Won't get the test report. Not from me, because it won't be my job to report on you anymore. They won't be expecting another drug test from you for weeks. It will be okay, Bodie. Let me help you. I'm on your side. Always. I will help you—"

He interrupts my soothing words with a brutal kiss. He pulls me from the chair. One bounce and my legs lock around him as we try to destroy each other with lips. He throws me down on the couch in the living room and spreads himself on top of me. His clean scent—musk and slightly lavendar—fills my senses as I seek more of him.

His touch. His taste. His truth.

I need them all.

I need them like air.

I love him and I need every part of him.

I'm trying to rip off his clothes but he's grinning into my lips and pulling my hands away, stretching them above my head, pinning me while I pant for him.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves, Dr. Watkins."

"Don't call me that anymore," I pout.

"Why not? It's a big accomplishment. I'm proud of you," he whispers as he worries my ear with his teeth.

"I hate her. She's always trying to talk me out of this."

"Hmmmm. Smart lady." He's squeezes my hands and stretches my arms further over my head. His tongue trails down my throat.

"She's stupid...I love you," I buck my hips up against his. "I'm exorcising her. No more bossy Dr. Watkins. Just Marley from now on."

"Is that really what you want me to call you when we are this close?" he presses me harder into the couch.

"No," I whisper hoarsely.

"Are you my girl? My sweet Jasmine?"

"Yes."

"I love you Jasmine. So much. So sweet and so strong. Your strength amazes me." He keeps my hands held in one of his, trailing his other down my arm, my side, my hip. He catches beneath my knee and bends my leg outward, frog-style, hooking it around him.

We kiss until I forget my own name.

All of them.

Then Bodie says something truly awful. The worst thing I've heard yet.

"As much as I want you, this has gotta wait until tonight," he croons against my neck. Then he sucks.

Oh my god. Nothing ever sucked so good.

"It really doesn't," I protest.

He stops. "Yeah it does."

"Why?" I pout.

"Because TJ is looking in the window at us," he nips my ear as I shriek, "What!?!?"

Stupid security. I can't believe they let him up on the porch without letting us know. Then again, we've never sent him away, all the times he's come over.

Bodie rolls off me, sits up, stuffs a pillow in his lap, and yells, "Come in if you're coming in!"

TJ, who knows the keypad code for the front door, makes himself at home. He steps in, grinning at the bouquet of jasmine on the foyer table.

Then he examines us critically. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, of course n—"

"Yes, definitely," Bodie says, much to my embarrassment.

"Yeah, so were you in my office yesterday." He heads to the kitchen and comes back with a pancake taco stuffed with bacon.

He throws himself on the sofa opposite me and grins. "How'd you like the whip, Jaz?"

I smile at him. "It's gorgeous and it drives like a dream. Your recommendation?"

"Of course," he winks at me. Then he looks much sadder as he says, "I see the car and the flowers are speeding up Bodie's forgiveness factor for last night. My stay in the dog house looks to be more extended, sadly."

"Good god,Shay didn't kick you out, did she?" I whisper in horror.

"Cause if she did, you ain't got to go home, but you can't stay here," Bodie jokes.

At least I think he's joking. He's got that savage look in his eyes again.

"Just out of the bedroom, not out of the house," TJ says, but he doesn't seem bothered.

"So...why aren't you at the dealership?" I ask.

"Oh...me and Bodie...we got business," he says vaguely.

"Can't, Dawg." Bodie is talking to TJ but playing with my hair. "I gotta go somewhere with Marley."

"Can't it wait? Cause I got two-three appointments on the hook, waiting for us..."

"No, it can't wait," he says firmly. "Will you take care of it? And I'll meet you at Darius' school later?"

"What you got to do that's so important? It was your damn idea to find a safe house no one knows about but family... just in case we needed a downlow..."

"My sobriety is more important," Bodie says. "My family is more important. I have to get my shit straight at the clinic, okay? After the smack I did last night, Marley wants me to go get my dose adjusted, and she's right. I need to go."

"Wow," TJ blinks. "You told her everything, huh?"

"I'm not gonna keep something that important from the woman I love."

His gentle smile undoes me. I wrap my arms around Bodie's strong torso and bury my head against his neck. Dr. Watkins is so wrong, with her warnings and statistics. The most important thing is that Bodie never lies to me.

He never keeps secrets from me.

I ignore TJ's look of concern. Whatever TJ's minor discomfort is at seeing Bodie and I together, I know that we are all on track now.

Bodie and TJ? I can trust them both completely.