Page 176 of The Love of Priest

Priest's dark eyes averted from her to the paper that landed by his feet. "He wants to talk. Maybe you can stop with all the daddy issues bullshit," she spewed as she spun around in the elevator to face Priest with a sly smirk while the door began to glide shut.

Priest felt a tightness in his chest. His stomach felt as if it was tying in knots. When he was younger, Priest always imagined having some sort of excitement bubbling within him at the mention of speaking to his father. It was what he always craved and longed for: to finally speak to the man the hood held to such a high stature. He was the kin of a king. Sadly, Priest wasn't feeling that rush of excitement. The only feeling that was taking over him was vengeance. Shit would have been so much better if Leonard just acknowledged him. He wouldn't have gone through half the shit he'd gone through if his pops were around and accepted him as his own.What was truly bothering Priest was the matter ofwhy now? What was so special about this moment and time in his life for Leonard to want to speak to him? It had been 28 whole fucking years!

Reaching down, Priest grabbed the paper Sylvia had carelessly balled up. Opening the paper, Priest’s eyes scanned the penmanship that made up the name etched above the phone number. Leonard.

Priest released a heavy, stressed breath. He placed the wrinkled paper onto the counter. He had way too much pride to ever feed into Leonard's wants. If he wanted to talk, he was going to have to jump through hurdles and hoops to find him. Priest was everywhere yet nowhere at once. Leonard was just going to have to catch him. Plus, Priest wasn't sure if there would be much talking between them. He had little to no tolerance for bullshit, and for some reason, he just knew Leonard would be on some bullshit that he wasn't willing to deal with.His plan was still in motion. No inner child feelings were going to stop it.

Running his hand down his face, Priest ridded his head of the stressful thoughts of Leonard. His mind immediately went to Britain. He knew he rubbed her the wrong way by speaking to her the way he had in his mother’s presence. Britain was respectful. She would’ve much rather been checked in private than to be checked blatantly in front of anyone. It wasn't really what he said. It was how he said it and when he said it.

Pushing his bedroom door open, he gazed at Britain as she stood over her bag, stuffing her belongings inside of it. In agitation, Priest smacked his lips loudly. That caught Britain’s attention, causing her to snap her head in his direction.

"Don't ever speak to me like that again. That was uncalled for, especially in the presence of your mother," she hissed in a stern tone.

Priest navigated over to her, reached into her bag that she was packing up and began unpacking it. "When shit doesn't go your way, you like to run from it," he told her as he began walking her folded clothing back toward his massive closet. He sat the clothes down on the built-in island-like dresser that was set in the center of the oversized closet.

He could hear Britain following behind him in hopes of attaining her clothing. "No the fuck I don’t," she refuted. "At this point, you and your mama have me fucked up, and I’ll be damned if I stay here to deal with it!" She folded her arms across her chest as her face screwed up in anger.

Priest turned around to face her. He leaned against the dresser, a light smirk on his face as he folded his arms across his chest as well. Realizing she wasn't falling for his light tactic to loosen her up, he let out a sigh and let his arms down. Reaching out, he took ahold of her waist, pulling her closer. Priest then lifted her up and sat her on the dresser’s countertop while he stood between his legs.

"It's not your fault. It's mine," he began as he placed his cold hands at her sides underneath her graphic crop top. "I fucked up and should’ve never did that out there. She antagonizes you, and I get you have every right to defend yourself in that moment, but just please let me deal with her," he explained, causing Britain's face to soften. "I will never allow her to disrespect you and not handle it. Aight?" Finding a line of understanding, Britain nodded her head.

"I get it," Britain muttered, causing Priest to laugh lightly.

"Don't ever pack your shit up on me again, fool," he teased her while lightly gripping her neck.

Britain laughed. She tended to just extract herself from relationships and situations whenever she got upset. It was a newfound personality trait she developed after her toxic cycle run with Cameron. While she was single, it was the greatest trait to have, but now that she was locked in with Priest, he wasn't feeling it at all. He believed in taking the time to sort shit out together when shit got crazy. He never believed in fleeing from issues. To him, that made people weak.

Britain leaned in, pecking his lips a few times. "I didn’t mean to take it there. The situation just triggered me.”

"Nah, your reaction was warranted. She came at you wrong, and so did I. I apologize." His apology was genuine, and the smile he had on his face swooned Britain.

Her face reflected his smile. "I love you."

"I love you too." He chuckled as he applied a quick kiss to her lips.

"Can you finish unpacking my spend-a-night bag?" Britain teased with a bat of her long, wispy lashes that made her eyes all-the-more innocent.

Priest laughed before flicking her bottom lip that had curled into a pleading frown. Priest turned around so his back was facing her. She immediately caught the hint, which led to her jump up onto his back. The piggyback ride filled her with laughter as he carried her from his closet to his bed, where he dramatically plopped down on top of her.

Britain and Priest adjusted themselves into more comfortable positions in the bed. Priest ended up resting his head on her flat stomach while her hand stroked his waves soothingly. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" Britain asked in a light voice.

Priest cleared his throat before shrugging. "Never been a fan of funerals," he admitted with his baritone and raspy voice. "But I gotta be strong. Tasha and the boys counting on me."

"You don't have to be strong all the time, P."

Priest let out a chuckle while shaking his head. "I can't risk it. I'm cool, though. You've been helping me through a lot," he praised her with a smile.

"I'll be here for you always.” Her light, sweet voice warmed Priest’s heart.

"‘Preciate it," Priest expressed his gratitude before they slapped hands with each other. Britain made any and every situation feel a whole lot easier to deal with.

ChapterForty-Three

THE NEXT DAY

Priest stood before Britain,towering over her. Britain's small hands fiddled with the buttons of his dress shirt as she buttoned it for him. "Relax." She smoothed her hands over his chest, ridding his black dress shirt of any signs of wrinkles.

Priest let out a deep breath. As much as he had convinced himself that he was strong enough to say his final goodbyes to Jamari, the pain was killing him slowly. He did all the preparation for this day and still couldn't fathom it. "I'm good." He nodded curtly, hoping to look as convincing as he sounded.

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