22

A week had passed since that quiet night, but Tivaughn couldn't get it out of his head. Reece had been back to his usual self-mean, short-tempered, and quick with an attitude whenever he was out in the streets or handling business. Yet, every time Tivaughn saw him with Zaire or caught the rare moments when Reece let his guard down, it reminded him of how different things were when they were alone.

It was a slow Sunday, and Tivaughn was in Reece's kitchen, finishing up the last of the dishes after making breakfast. Zaire sat at the table, swinging his legs back and forth while eating a plate of pancakes, syrup smeared on his chin. Reece leaned against the counter nearby, a blunt tucked between his lips, the lighter flicking as he lit it.

"Boy, wipe your mouth," Reece muttered to Zaire, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"Yes, sir," Zaire said, grabbing a napkin and wiping his face as Tivaughn turned around, drying his hands.

"You know he just gon' get syrup all over again with that second stack," Tivaughn teased, stepping past Reece to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Reece took a slow pull on his blunt, exhaling the smoke toward the open window. "Ain't my problem as long as he ain't runnin' around sticky."

Tivaughn chuckled, leaning against the counter across from Reece. He watched him for a moment, his eyes trailing over the sharp line of his jaw, the way the smoke curled around his fingers. Reece caught him staring and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Reece asked, his tone sharp but not hostile.

"Nothin', Pa. Just thinkin' you been actin' extra grumpy lately. You need another night like last week," Tivaughn said, his voice low enough that Zaire wouldn't hear.

Reece's eyes narrowed slightly, and he took another pull from his blunt, blowing the smoke out slowly. "Don't start."

"Who startin'? I'm just sayin'," Tivaughn said, smirking. He set his coffee down and walked over, reaching out to pluck the blunt from Reece's hand before taking a hit himself.

Reece frowned but didn't pull away when Tivaughn leaned in close. "You always got somethin' slick to say, huh?"

"Only 'cause I know you like it," Tivaughn replied, handing the blunt back.

Reece shook his head but didn't argue. "Z, you done?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah!" Zaire jumped down from the chair and ran over to Tivaughn. "Can you braid my hair today, Ti? I don't like how it's lookin' no more."

Tivaughn crouched to Zaire's level, inspecting his head. "Yeah, little man, we can do that. How 'bout you go grab your brush and clips, and I'll meet you in the living room?"

Zaire nodded and ran off, leaving Tivaughn and Reece alone again. Reece blew out a stream of smoke, watching Tivaughn through half-lidded eyes.

"You got him spoiled," Reece said, though there wasn't any heat in his voice.

"Nah, you the one got him spoiled. I just keep his hair lookin' fresh," Tivaughn shot back, grabbing his coffee again.

Reece didn't respond, just leaned against the counter, his expression softening slightly as he watched Tivaughn leave the room. A week might've passed, but Reece knew better than to act like Tivaughn wasn't working his way under his skin-even if he wasn't ready to say it out loud.