Page 122 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
Me: Come by tomorrow. I’ll make lunch. Those grilled tuna sandwiches.
Halo: Okay bitch sold. I’m proud of you for handling that business at the hospital. Fuck them hoes.
I thought back to that day three months ago when I’d marched into St. Ambrose Memorial and demanded every copy of those photos be turned over to me. Rebecca tried to give me the runaround, talking about “procedure” and “investigations,” but I wasn’t having it.
“Those are MY photos of MY body taken without MY consent,” I’d told her, my voice steady but deadly serious. “Either you hand them over right now, or I’m calling my lawyer and the local news station. Your choice.”
Malik still didn’t know I’d done that. He probably would’ve wanted to handle it himself, but some things a woman needed to take care of personally. Those photos were mine to control, mine to destroy, mine to decide what happened to them.
Me: Had to take my power back. I couldn’t let them just sit in some file somewhere. What if someone found them? Weird ass shit.
Halo: That’s exactly why I love you. You don’t let nobody walk over you, not even when you’re being nice about it.
Me: Learned from the best.
I heard Malik’s footsteps in the hallway and quickly typed back.
Me: My husband’s coming. We’ll talk tomorrow. Love you.
Halo: Love you too. Kiss that baby for me.
Malik appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but basketball shorts that hung low on his hips. Even after all this time, the sight of him still made my stomach flutter and my body respond.
“She still sleeping?” he whispered, moving to look down at Summer.
“Out like a light. The game tired her out.”
“Good. She needs her rest.” He reached down and gently stroked her cheek with one finger. “Daddy’s perfect girl.”
“You’re going to spoil her rotten. I keep telling you that.”
“That’s the plan,” he said with no shame whatsoever. “She’s gonna be the most spoiled, most loved, most protected little girl in St. Ambrose, shit in the world. Off with a nigga head about her.”
I watched him with our daughter and felt that familiar wave of gratitude wash over me. This man had given me everything I’d never dared to dream of, true partnership, unwavering support, a love so deep it sometimes scared me with its intensity.
“Malik?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Thank you. For all of it. For fighting for us when I was too scared to fight for myself. For loving Samaj like he was yours from the beginning. For giving me Summer. For building this life with me.”
“You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Sametra. That’s not work for me. That’s just breathing, existing.”
“Still. I want you to know that I see it. I see you. I appreciate you.”
He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder as we both watched our daughter sleep.
“You know what I see?” he said quietly.
“What?”
“I see a woman who took every broken piece life handed her and turned it into something beautiful. I see a mother who raised an incredible son while building her own career and dreams. I see my wife, who’s about to be Dr. Sametra Holloway in eight months when she graduates.”
My heartbeat faster at the reminder. After taking a brief break when Summer was born, I’d be finishing my psychology degree in the spring. Dr. Andrews, it still didn’t feel real sometimes.
“I see the woman who I’d give the entire world to. I’m proud of you, LT.”
I was proud of myself too. The little girl who’d once wondered why her own mother had left her behind had grown up to become a mother who would never leave. The woman who’d loved a man who ran when life got hard had found a man who ran toward the hard things, not away from them. The firefighter who’d spent years saving other people had finally learned how to let someone save her, too.
