Page 298 of Kentrell

“Yes, ma’am.” I answered automatically, sitting up a little myself.

“Do you let other people control what you think?” she asked, her gaze sharp and direct.

I shook my head without thinking… but the truth sat heavy in my chest.

“Does what other people think about you… control what you do?” she pressed.

I swallowed hard, because that question… that question was loaded. In a nutshell? Yes. For most of my life, yes. But lately… since Kentrell… since everything… the answer had been shifting. Becoming more of a no every day.

“I’ma just gon’ ‘head and assume you do since you ain’t said?—”

“It used to,” I cut in, finally finding my voice while twiddling my thumbs in my lap. “But lately…” I paused, forcing myself to stop fidgeting. “It doesn’t.”

“Lately?” she repeated, raising one brow.

“Yes.” I nodded and exhaled, feeling my spine straighten as I said it. “Because lately, I’ve been through a lot. A house fire… parent drama… a murder-for-hire plot… and losing the love of my life.” The words tasted bitter and raw on my tongue, but I stood firm in them, letting them out without flinching.

My chest swelled with a mix of pride and exhaustion because when I really thought about it… I’d survived all of that. And a lot of the reason I survived was because of Kentrell. Blow after blow, and he was there for me… through most of it. Steady… solid… until he wasn’t.

“I was raised to believe a lot of things that I no longer care to receive anymore,” I said, waving my hand like I could brush it all away. “If I like it… I’m going for it.”

Jellybean stayed quiet for a long second, just nodding slow… like she was weighing my words.

“So… you still believe my son wanted to go through with whatever Malcolm wanted?” she asked finally, hitting me with the million-dollar question I’d been asking myself every day for the past week. The question I kept turning over… just to talk myself out of looking weak for still wanting him. Still missing him. Still aching every time I went to bed alone. Woke up alone. Walked through my day with a chest that felt like it hadn’t fully expanded since the last time I saw him.

I hugged myself, biting down the lump rising in my throat. “Initially, yes,” I admitted. “But that thought only hit me the second I saw the file he had on me.” The memory of that day came rushing back, thick and sharp like it had just happened yesterday. “And honestly… I was mad. More mad than scared. Because of how much I loved him… and how much it felt like I was feeling it all by myself.”

“And what made you change your mind?” Jellybean asked, her tone shifting again, soft but steady… and for a second, it felt like I was sitting on the couch across from my therapist.

“He did… by everything he’s done to me and for me,” I told her honestly. “We were together every day, damn near?—”

“Not you cussin’.” Jellybean cut in with a laugh, her grin wide and teasing.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Girl, don’t apologize.” She waved her hand like it was nothing. “I’m glad you do. I like you, Zoe… but I’on know if I could do prim and proper every damn time I see you.” She let out another laugh as I giggled and covered my face.

“It’s the clothes and the atmosphere,” I explained, peeking at her through my fingers. She gave me a look like I was speaking another language. “No, I swear. When I’m dressed like an attorney, I can’t help but walk in it. I try to maintain a level of professionalism with all my clients… keep my personal life and career separate.”

“I get it, girl.” She nodded, still smiling. “I was sho’nuff gon’ call that boy and ask him some thangs, chile.” I laughed as she shook her head at me. “We might have to have this mama-to-daughter talk outside these walls.”

Mama to daughter.

The words hit me harder than I expected. My heart leaped at the sound of them. For a second… it almost felt real.

“I can arrange it,” I said, smiling wide, and she smiled right back.

But after a moment, I watched her face soften. Her fingers folded together on her lap… her eyes shifting… shoulders tensing just enough for me to notice.

“So you really think I got a chance at fighting this?” she asked quietly. Her gaze danced across my face, like she was looking for a lie but hoping for the truth. I saw the worry there… but I saw the hope too.

“With certainty… I do,” I said, nodding with full confidence. “The motion we filed for post-conviction relief highlighted everything—the concealed witness testimony, the rushed trial, procedural errors, prosecutorial misconduct, ineffective assistance from your previous counsel, the missing murder weapon, that questionable firearm at the scene… and so much more, Miss Johnson.”

Her breath caught and I smiled, sealing it with one last promise.

“I feel confident saying… you can expect to be out no later than March.”

“Damn… well okay, then.” She blinked like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That quick?”

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