Page 153 of Real's Love

I frowned, then realized the big mothafucka in the car behind us must be reporting to him. Reluctantly, I pulled over.

“Good. Mikhail will drive you.”

Maxim hung up. I sighed before banging my fist on the steering wheel. Just when I was making progress with my girl… The cost of this deal weighed on me.

“What’s going on?” Real asked, his frustration fading into apprehension.

“I gotta go. Right now,” I replied, sounding strained. “An opportunity I cannot miss, Maxim claims.”

“And when yourpakhanspeaks, you move,” he filled in what I hadn’t said.It was true. The minute I agreed to Maxim’s terms, I knew that. But shit, this soon?

“What about Theory?” Real’s hushed voice interrupted my thoughts. “You can’t just leave her without saying anything.”

“Damn, you don’t think I’m thinking about that?” I said, my chest tightening. The thought of leaving her had me sick. “But I can’t tell her all this shit over the phone. I’ma call, but this job better not take long.”

He sighed. “So, I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

I nodded once. “Sounds like.”

“You be careful, alright? Don’t let anything happen to you.”

He punched my shoulder, and I mugged him, but I relented quickly.

“You too, Real. Don’t let Everly’s walls keep you out.”

I opened the door and jumped out, on my way to God knows where with only the clothes on my back. A minute later, I heard Real pull off. As I approached Mikhail where he sat in the blacked-out car, I pulled out my phone. Dialing Theory’s number, my mind raced as I waited for her to pick up.

“Hey, Suga,” her voice flowed through the line, warm and sweet. “You good?”

“I gotta leave,milaya. Immediately,” I managed to say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the anger simmering inside me. “Maxim called. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

She was silent, then…

“Leave? Targen, what you mean? You can’t just?—”

“I really can’t talk,baby, but please, just trust me,” I interrupted. “I’ma miss you, and I swear I’ll come back as soon as I finish. Just remember everything I promised, alright?”

“Nah, don’tyouforget, Targen. You better come back to me,” she replied.

I could hear the tremor in her tone. That shit ate me up, made me feel even worse.

“I will. I promise,” I said.

“Another promise,” she whispered. “I’m counting.”

She disconnected, and I stared at the phone for a minute. Mikhail lowered the window.

“Sir—”

“I know. Just give me a minute. It ain’t like we can be there in three hours,” I said bitterly.

“With all due respect, sir,” he said, “get in. We’ll be there in two-and-a-half.”

The smellof freshly baked fruit pies wafted through my grandmother’s cozy kitchen, enveloping me in a sweet feeling that was both comforting and suffocating. For the last three months, I had hidden out in Emancipation, caring for my sister and her new, wonderful son and privately licking my own wounds, most of them admittedly self-inflicted.

Lord, I missed Real Hamilton… real bad. So many times, I lifted the phone to call him, then chickened out when I remembered how cold he’d been the last time I’d seen him.

Em and the baby were sleeping, so I had ambled into the dining room to be close to my granny. I sat across from her at the long wooden table that PawPaw had designed to seat at least twenty-four. It was crazy that it was now too little. My fingers traced the intricate patterns on the tablecloth, my heart racing in my chest. She looked up from where she was peeling rutabagas.

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