Page 9 of Breeze and Melodie

“I’m on my way. Are you in danger?”

“Me and Sean got into it. I asked him to leave, and he?—"

“Where are you? Where is he?” I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pulled on a pair of sweats.

“I’m locked in the bathroom in my bedroom. He’s in the living room.”

“Did he put his hands on you?”

“Yes, but?—”

“Say less. I’m on my way up.”

While we spoke, I grabbed my gun from my bedside table and put it in the pocket of my sweats. I had no idea what I’d walk into and had to be prepared.

I placed my phone on the counter before pulling a T-shirt over my head and sliding into a pair of gym shoes at the door. I got my keys from the counter, picked up my phone, and exited my apartment.

After locking up, I jogged to the stairwell, rushed up two flights of stairs, and into the hallway of Melodie’s floor. When I arrived at her door, I didn’t bother knocking, and thankfully, it was unlocked.

“What the fuck are you doing here!” Sean spat as he hopped up from the couch.

Ignoring him, I scanned the space and noticed the apartment was in disarray. The loveseat and coffee table had clearly been moved, and the barstools for the breakfast bar had been knocked over.

I finally made eye contact with Sean and noticed a bruise on his face, which caused a smirk to form on mine. I wanted to beat his ass, but my priority was making sure Melodie was okay.

“Mel, I’m here!” I shouted.

“The fuck did she call you for?”

I took a few steps back to close the door. Melodie’s condition would determine how this muthafucka left this apartment. Her bedroom door opened, and I immediately saw red when I noticed her swollen, blackened eye and busted lip.

“Oh, you one of those niggas,” I said in a low voice.

I closed the space between in less than two seconds and, with my hand gripping his neck, pressed him against the wall.

“What the—” he attempted to speak, but the pressure I applied to his neck wouldn’t allow it.

“I don’t like a lot of shit, but I loathe a nigga who puts his hands on women.”

He used his hands to try to move mine from his neck as he pleaded his case, but he was wasting his energy. “She—let me—fuck—I can’t bre?—”

The more he spoke, the tighter my grip became. I didn’t let him go until he stopped fighting and gasping for air. When I released him, he fell to the floor dramatically, holding his neck and sucking in as much air as he could.

“A year ago, I would’ve beaten you until you were on the brink of death or shot your ass in the middle of your fuckin’ forehead. You should thank God I’m a changed man. Take your bitch-ass outta here, and if I ever see you near her again, it won’t end well.”

He struggled to get up, and when he did, I couldn’t refrain from kicking him back to the floor and then a few more times for good measure. He coughed and groaned as he rolled over, holding his stomach.

“I bet you thought you were tough a few minutes ago. Wassup with you now, nigga? You ain’t got the same energy for me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Man, getcho bitch-ass up and get the fuck on.”

It took him a minute, and I had to fight the urge not to fuck him up, but I let him leave.

“C’mere,” I told Melodie, opening my arms.

She rushed to me, and I embraced her for a moment before releasing her to get a better look at her injuries. Her long locs were pulled into a bun, away from her face, allowing me to see that her caramel-colored skin was puffy and had turned purple underneath her left eye, with swelling around the gash on the side of her mouth.

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