Chapter 38

Zay's POV

I should've seen this coming. Should've known she'd pick him-again.

I'm standing in the middle of the living room, hands clenched at my sides, breath tight in my chest. My mom's across from me, arms crossed, looking at me like I'm the one in the wrong. Like I'm the one disrespecting her.

"You don't get to tell me who I can talk to, Zaire," she says, voice sharp. "That is still your father-"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Father? You mean the same nigga that put his hands on you? That put his hands on me?" My voice cracks at the end, and I hate it. Hate that I even gotta explain this to her like she ain't live through it with me.

She sighs, rubbing at her temples like I'm exhausting her. "It's not that simple."

"Nah. It is." My chest feels heavy, anger mixing with something raw that I don't wanna name. "You choosin' him. Like you always do."

Her lips press together, and I swear I see a flicker of guilt, but it don't last. "I'm not kicking you out, but if you can't respect how I live my life, then maybe you need to find somewhere else to be."

I stare at her, my heart thudding against my ribs. "Say that shit again."

She lifts her chin. "You heard me."

I swallow hard, my vision blurring. My own mama.

My own mama.

I don't say nothing else. I turn on my heel, storming toward my room. My hands are shaking as I grab my phone, unlocking it with a swipe before my mind can second-guess itself.

Facetime: Pa

I press call, my throat closing up, and when he answers, my whole chest caves in.

Trey's POV

I was just about to knock out when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I blink at the screen, Zay's name lighting up. FaceTime.

Soon as I answer, the screen loads up to his face-tear-streaked, eyes red, lips trembling. My stomach drops.

"Baby," I say, already sitting up. "What happened?"

Zay sniffles, shaking his head. He ain't talking. Just breathing heavy like he tryna keep from breaking down.

"Talk to me, love," I murmur. My voice is soft, but I already know-I'ma handle whatever it is.

Zay swallows, wiping at his face quick, like he don't want me to see. "She kicked me out, Trey ." His voice cracks on the last word.

I don't hesitate. "Where you at?"

"My room," he whispers. "I ain't got nowhere to go."

That hit me in the chest. "Yeah, you do." I'm already grabbing my keys off the dresser. "I'm on the way."

He nods, lower lip caught between his teeth. I see the relief in his eyes, but he still look hurt. Like a kid that just got left behind.

"Nah, don't do that," I tell him, voice low. "I got you. Always."

His lashes flutter, and he nods again, biting down harder.

"I'ma be there in ten, love."

And then I'm out the door.

-

Pulling up outside his mama's house, I barely throw my car in park before I'm hopping out. Zay's already on the porch, hoodie pulled up, bag slung over one shoulder. His arms are wrapped around himself, and even from here, I can tell he been crying.

When he sees me, his whole body sags.

I open my arms, and he don't hesitate-falls right into my chest, gripping my hoodie tight.

"Ain't gotta say nothing," I murmur, pressing my lips to his temple. "C'mon, let's go home."

The Next Day

Zay don't gotta go back for his shit, but he wanna. Says he ain't leaving nothing behind. So we pull up in my car, side by side, silent but solid.

His mama's outside when we walk up. She calls his name, but he don't even look at her. Just keeps walking.

I follow behind, arms crossed, daring her to say some slick shit.

She don't.

We grab his clothes, his shoes, the little things that matter. And when we leave, we don't look back.

He's home now.

With me.