Page 63 of Love's Free Will

That got my attention real quick. “What about her?” I gritted.

“I heard what happened,” he said, tone suddenly softer. “You pushed her away. You think you’re the only one who lost somebody?”

“She ain’t dead,” I growled.

“No,” he replied calmly. “But you sure act like she is dead to you from what I’m hearing.”

I gripped the phone tighter, knuckles white. “Don’t start with that shit. I don’t need her name in my ear again today.”

“You think I’m throwin’ her in your face?”

“Ain’t that what everybody doin’? My pops, you… y’all love remindin’ me what I fucked up like I don’t already know,” I snapped. “Like I don’t hear her voice when I try to sleep. Like I don’t see her every time I close my eyes.”

There was a pause. “Then why you treat her like that?”

I exhaled hard through my nose. “Because she tied to the worst night of my life. That’s why.” He didn’t say anything. “You don’t get it, Logan. I look at her and all I see is what I wasn’t there for. If I wasn’t laid up with her?—”

“You’d still be human. Still be hurtin’,” he cut in. “But at least you wouldn’t be pushing away the people who give a fuck about you.”

I didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. “Aye what you need from me bruh, I got shit to do.”

“I know this ain't the best time, Royal,” Logan added, gentler now. “But you gotta find a new manager. You got obligations. Promo, rollout, radio appearances.Concrete Rosesis your best work yet, and it deserves better than what you givin’ it.” I didn’t reply just listened. “I know you hurtin’. But you gotta climb out of this, man. Do it for King.”

That was the last straw. I hung up; didn’t say goodbye, didn’t need to. Instead, I tossed my phone across the passenger seat, then yanked it back seconds later, unlocking it with a swipe of my thumb.

I shouldn’t have, knew I shouldn’t but I was already a tortured soul, might as well finish off the job. So, I went to the Photos app anyway. And there she was, Averi St. Claire, smilin’ up at me in my camera roll like nothin’ ever happened.

Selfies she took on my phone, throwin’ up the peace sign in my bed with one of my hoodies on. That pic of her laid out in my studio chair, sleep with her mouth halfway open and her notebook still in her lap. A bunch of blurry candids I’d taken of her when she didn’t know—pen cap in her mouth, browsfurrowed, workin’ hard like the damn genius she was. And then, my favorite one… the one she made me keep even though I swore it was dumb. It was a photo of me and her, laid up in bed, her head on my chest, both of us smilin’. She was the only one that could get a real ass grin outta me like that.

I locked the phone and tossed it again. I just sat there in the driver’s seat outside my mama’s house, drownin’ in the silence, all over again. And for the first time since the funeral... I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

It took a minute for me to compose myself, to calm down enough before I went in that house to face Queenie. When I was ready, I slipped a piece of Spearmint gum in my mouth then got out of the car.

When I walked in, the house was too damn quiet. I pushed the door open, letting the familiar creak echo through the hallway. The smell hit me before I even made it to the kitchen—spaghetti and catfish, another comfort meal she always made when we didn’t have much in the fridge growin’ up. I hated how comforting it felt. Like it was okay to come here and pretend everything wasn’t fallin’ apart.

Queenie was at the counter, wine glass in one hand, phone in the other. She didn’t even look up when I walked in. “Whoever you sleepin’ with now better not have had you late for my dinner,” she muttered, scrolling with her thumb.

“I ain’t sleepin’ with nobody,” I mumbled, dragging my feet toward the fridge to grab a bottle of water—because Hennessey at this hour would send her over the edge.

She looked up then, one eyebrow raised. “Mmmhm. That why you smell like cologne and bad decisions?”

I gave her a lazy smirk. “I came from the studio.”

“Must’ve been a strip club-themed session.” I didn’t respond. I just leaned against the counter and cracked the bottle open,drinking half of it in one go. She put her phone down and finally turned to look at me. Her eyes softened. “You look tired, baby.”

I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You look like hell, Royal.”

The way she said my name made me exhale long and hard. I didn’t have the energy to argue. My head was too full. My chest too tight. “I’m just… goin’ through it, Ma.”

“I know. But this ain’t the way.” She walked around the counter, leaned on the opposite side of it, and folded her arms across her chest. “You drinkin’ like a fish. Fightin’ in public. Wildin’ out. And don’t think I ain’t heard that you cursed Zay out so bad he ain’t even been back around.”

I scoffed. “He should’ve protected King.”

“You mean like you should’ve?” The jab landed. Right in the gut. I blinked at her. She kept goin’. “You blame Zay. You blame me. You blame Averi. But when you gon’ admit that you really blame yourself, baby?” I didn’t say anything. “I know you,” she whispered. “You’re carryin’ this. All of it. And I hate it for you, but you gotta stop. You keep pushin’ people away like this, Royal… one day, you not gon’ have nobody left.”

I turned away, jaw flexin’, eyes burnin’. “It is my fault.”

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