Page 28 of The Street Disciples
And landed on Nova.
Hazel eyes hit me through the glass like bullets. She wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t soft. She was fire, standing stiff at the counter, Lani’s hand over hers, the weight of a storm heavier than this rain blazing across her face.
My mask slipped, jaw tightening. Tarnesha pulled back, oblivious, her hand still brushing rain from her braids. She tipped her chin toward Cruz’s like she felt the eyes but didn’t catch the fire.
“You know folks in there?” she asked, light, casual.
“Something like that.” I muttered, my voice low, gravel rougher than the road.
But inside me, everything was a blaze.
Nova pushed off the counter, storm walking through the shop. The doorbell chimed like a warning shot as she shoved it open, rain rushing to meet her. And right then I knew—this wasn’t just about me rolling back into town. This was about every vow, every ghost, every lie the Crest kept trying to bury and the rain kept digging back up.
I followed her out, boots hitting the wet sidewalk hard. Rain smacked my shoulders, slid down my face like the Crest itself was trying to baptize me dirty. She spun fast, curls whipping, chain glinting under the streetlight as her hand went to it like she needed the weight to hold herself together.
“You think you can just ride back in like the last three years ain’t happened?” she snapped, voice sharp enough to slice the night.
Tarnesha stiffened, arms crossing, eyes bouncing between us like she’d just walked into a movie mid-scene. “What’s this about?” she demanded, chin tilted high.
Nova’s eyes didn’t leave me. “Who’s she?”
“Watch your tone,” Tarnesha cut back, stepping forward like she had a point to prove.
Nova’s glare snapped to her, voice sharp as glass. “You don’t wanna get in this, sweetheart.”
Tarnesha scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m already in it. You stormin’ out a restaurant like somebody stole your man when clearly, he’s right here with me.”
Nova’s laugh was soft, bitter. “He’s with you, huh?” Her gaze flicked to me, then back to Tarnesha. “Then you keep him. You keep the empty shell. The man I married? He’s buried under all that running.”
Tarnesha’s jaw dropped. “Married?”
I swallowed hard, heat rising in my chest as Nova’s fire lit every scar I’d tried to bury. Tarnesha backed up slightly, arms folding tighter, lips pressed shut but her eyes wide. The storm outside couldn’t match the storm standing in front of me. Her hazel eyes burned, but I saw the tremor in her lip before she bit it down. She whispered something under her breath—low, quick, Psalm words I couldn’t catch but felt like armor she was strapping on right in front of me.
“Nova—” I started, but she cut me off. Not giving a damn about what I was saying.
“Don’t‘Nova’me. You left me bleeding, Roman. You left me carrying the kind of silence that don’t sleep. And now I gotta watch you roll up with some girl clinging to your back like—likethemvows don’t mean shit to you.”
Her voice cracked, not weak—just raw. Rain hit her cheeks, but I knew some of that wet was more than weather. My chest tightened, but pride’s a curse in my blood.
“I didn’t leave ‘cause I stopped loving you,” I ground out, jaw tight. “I left ‘cause this city eats everything. And I thought if I stayed, it’d eat you too.”
She laughed once, no humor in it, hand still pressed to her chain. “Newsflash, Ro—the city ate me anyway. It just left me alive long enough to choke on it.”
She stepped closer, eyes locked on mine, body trembling with storm heat. “So, tell me—what are you here for now?”
Her fire hit me harder than any fist ever could. And standing there, rain slicking both of us down, I realized this wasn’t a reunion—it was a reckoning.
Nova’s chest rose sharp; chain clutched at her breastbone like it was the only thing keeping her from exploding. Her hazel eyes weren’t soft, not even close—they cut through me like glass, sparking under the streetlight haze.
“You think you can just ride back into Lyon Crest like the last three years didn’t happen?” Her voice cracked sharp, carrying over the rain. “Like I’m supposed to forget the blood, the bed I had to bury my own child in, and the vows you dropped at the county line? Like I’m supposed to ignore the hole you left in me, in us?”
Her words dragged my lungs down, heavy as the mud sucking at our boots. “Nova—” I started, my voice already breaking.
“Don’t ‘Nova’ me, Roman Zore,” she snapped, stepping closer, storm clinging to her leather jacket. “You left me. You left us. And don’t you dare stand here acting like grief gave you a hall pass to leave me choking on mine alone.”
I swallowed hard, rain running down my lips, mixing with words I didn’t know how to form. “I thought I was sparing you,” I rasped, my voice low, rougher than the thunder rolling behind us. “Every time I looked at you after the miscarriage, all I saw was what I couldn’t fix. What I failed. So, I left before I ruined you more. I never stopped thinking about you, Nova. Never. Every mile I put between us was me carrying that weight.”
Her laugh was short, raw, painful. “Ruined me?” she repeated, almost whispering, scripture slipping under her breath like armor.‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’Her lips trembled, but her eyes didn’t blink. “You weren’t supposed to save me, Ro. You were supposed to stay.”
