Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Oh, honey. Love always comes with the good and bad.” She walked across the porch and sat on the ottoman near me. Clasping my hands in hers, she said, “I don’t think that’s fear you’re feeling. That’s just a test of your faith. You know what you need to do. All you have to do is gain the courage to take that step again, and you’re there, baby. And whatever happens, happens. I know it was easy to think ahead when you were with Lew. You were looking for solutions and only wanted the best for your future, but in a situation like you have now, you can’t look ahead and you definitely shouldn’t look back. You can only focus on what or who is in front of you at this present moment. Does this unexpected man make you laugh? Does he make you feel like yourself? Does he comfort you relentlessly, unconditionally? Do you ever feel judged by him? Does he understand you, even at your lowest? Is he patient even when you feel like he’s sick and tired of you?”
With each question she asked, all I could think about were the last few months I’d spent with Deke.
Yes, he made me laugh.
Yes, he made me feel like myself.
Yes, he comforted me relentlessly. Unconditionally.
No, he never, ever judged me for the way I cried at the fountain around goose shit or even when I ran away from him on the rooftop. He understood me during my low points, held me at the lake house and refused to let go . . . but I did. Like an idiot, I let him go.
And most of all, through every single strife, every tear, every disappointment, every dumb or rude remark from me, he remained patient. Not once did he waver.
“Oh, God.” What have I done? I cupped my mouth as hot tears gathered on my cheeks. Everything Mama said was true. I peered up at her, this woman full of wisdom and reason. “Wow. Who knew a woman who used to get lit for a living could have such great advice?” I said, and she reeled me in for a hug so I could hiccup a laugh into her chest.
“That’s what happens when you get to be my age. You live and you learn, and most of that knowledge was gained the hard way.” She pulled back to swipe a stray tear from my cheek. “If that man loves you, let him love you, Vina. Don’t deny yourself something good just because you think you don’t deserve it.”
“I won’t,” I whispered, and I never would again.
The screen door creaked open, and I looked back as Octavia and Abe walked out the door.
“Again, Mama?” Octavia garbled out around a mouthful of sandwich.
“Hey, Davina, I want Deke Bishop’s signature,” Abe said, completely disregarding my sister and pushing past her. “You said you work with him, so you can get it. He had a bad game last night, but we all have bad games and bad days. I still think he’s a good player. Can you get it?”
I smiled at my little brother, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. I knew what I had to do, and it was time to lower my guard once and for all and get my man back.
“When I make things up to him, I’ll be sure to get his signature and more just for you, Abe.”
SIXTY
DEKE
EDGE was my favorite barbershop in Atlanta. I greeted my barber Scottie with a dap and bumped fists with the other barbers.
It wasn’t until I sat down in the barber’s seat that my phone buzzed in my hoodie pocket. There was a tightening in my chest when I saw the single letter D. I’d seen it twice the day before and once the day before that. Davina had called multiple times for three days in a row, and I ignored every single one. I had nothing else to say to her.
“I need you to make sure the next game is a good one, man,” Scottie said, bringing the razor closer to my hairline. “I had a hundred dollars riding on the Ravens. I just knew my team was gonna win.”
Scottie was my barber, a heavyset dude with tawny skin and a thick black beard. The barbershop was light today, which I expected for a Tuesday, but those who were inside waiting or getting haircuts agreed with him.
“Yeah, man. Wasn’t my best game,” I said. “But the next will be.” At least I hoped it would.
My first game of the season was shitty because my mind wasn’t in it and neither was my heart. Coach Harrison chewed me out like a dog the day after, screaming at me across the office, spittle flying onto the papers on his desk.
“You’re supposed to be the star player! Act like one!”