Page 4 of And Everything In Between

“But nothing. It’s settled. Listen, Paige, I love you more than life itself. I know your heart I raised you to be this way but none of these niggas are your responsibility. That includes the man I once loved. Don’t make me worry about you more than I already do.”

Myra never stayed long, she came said her peace and left. A kiss pressed to Paige’s forehead; a heavy silence left in her place. Paige stood there in her tiny kitchen, the food steaming on the counter, the tickets limp in her hand.

Alive.

Paige shook her head and stepped back on the patio. She hadn’t even finished her blunt or processed her mother’s visit before JT’s call came crawling back. She’d hung up on him earlier, and he still wasn’t getting the picture. She knew what she had to do. But she didn’t want to. However, she was a better woman than this.

The phone stopped ringing, but her email went off minutes later. ACorrLinksmessage in all caps.

ANSWER ME, PAIGE.

Ain’t no way you playing a nigga like this.

The message glared at her, almost blowing her high. Paige stared at it. Because she wasn’t playing. He was the one who wasn’t taking her seriously and hurting his own feelings in the process. She wanted to relax and have a little moment of peace, was she asking for too much.

The blunt stayed lit, burning between her fingers, but the haze wasn’t strong enough to quiet the mess stirring inside her. Nights like this always dragged her back. To that night. The sirens. Her mother’s scream. The hush that fell over their whole house when PJ didn’t come home. Her own guilt for not being with him when he went to the park that day. She’d learned to sit still with panic back then. Learned to brace for bad news without ever showing it on her face.

She set the phone down face first on the table with a muted thud, ashing the blunt into the chipped saucer.

“Fuck,” she mumbled.

Before life got hectic, JT had been the easy choice. Not the dream man, but the safe one. He wrote her sweet letters. Shewrote back even sweeter. He made promises she could manage from a distance, ones she never expected to keep.

With JT, there was no need to give up pussy, catch feelings, cook, clean, or make room for anyone else. She could love him from the outside looking in, and that gave her control, freedom. He didn’t need her to show up in real time, purely needed her to answer the phone, drop money on his books, check in on his people, and remind him she still believed in him.

He was easy to love in his absence. Hard to picture up close. And the more parole hearings and appeal denials she sat through, the more she realized... she probably never would have to.

JT had fifteen years. Five down, ten to go. She’d be forty when he came home. If he came home.

The tickets sat a few inches away, flapping lightly in the breeze. That little voice in her head told her how easy it could be, how simple it would be to go back; reclaim the life she swore she wanted. But Paige didn’t move. Because if she reached for them, she’d have to admit the hard part, it wasn’t them. It was her.

The voice in her head wasn’t JT’s.

It wasn’t even her mom’s or her dad’s.

It was her own. Quiet, tiny, but still there.

She took a long drag from the blunt, exhaled hard enough to make the envelope on the table shiver, and closed her eyes. She wanted more. Because who didn’t. She had her career; she’d had her freedom and plenty of it. She’d even been catching herself watching other couples.

She didn’t know what the next step looked like. But standing still wasn’t it. Funny how the tighter you gripped something, the faster it slipped through your fingers.

Chapter 2

Friday

The waiting room at the prison was too bright. Too clean. That kind of clean that didn’t feel sterile, but sad. This place was depressing, and the thought crossed her mind every time she came. She would never get used to it. It was why she didn’t come as often as she could. Besides the drive being three hours, she hated how she felt coming in... and how she felt leaving.

The gray floors, metal chairs, and poor-ass vending machine with knock-off chips and snacks irritated her. The whole process pissed her off, the pat-downs, the stares, the little indignities you had to swallow just to see somebody you loved in a cage. Today was no different.

“Next time I’m charging your ass. You be taking your sweet precious time with me,” Paige joked quietly as Wanda, her favorite CO, grinned and frisked her slowly.

“Girl, please I’ve felt up finer bitches than you,” Wanda shot back laughing under her breath, trying not to get caught being friendly. For a second, it almost felt normal. She’d miss Wanda, in a strange way. But not enough to keep coming back.

Paige found her seat and crossed her ankles tightly. The CO called for the three o’clock group visit, but she was still stuck on the fact that she had made the trip. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not today. Not anymore. But closure had a pull. It could convince you of anything, even something you knew damn well was full of delusion. No one was owed anything. But she was toodamn tired of carrying unfinished business and baggage. This wasn’t who she was. Paige Bishop didn’t drag dead weight. She cut through everyone else’s bullshit. It was her favorite quality. Her strength. As the doors creaked open, she knew it was time she cut through her own.

And there he was. Same black-and-white jumpsuit she’d grown to know. Same half-smile, he wasn’t happy about her actions and movements. His disappointment was written all over his stress-beaten face.

Joshua Tomlin, also known as JT, carried the weight of his choices in his face, frown lines, gray hairs, and bags under his eyes. The pedestal she’d placed him on was finally crumbling under its own lies. But he was still fine. Paige wouldn’t deny that. The Boosie fade, the soft eyes framed by those ridiculous lashes, he still looked like the type of man you’d risk a little common sense for.

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