Page 132 of 23 Hours

Resting my chin on Loretta’s shoulder, I refuse to cry. I won’t drown in those memories. I refuse to go back there. Those fuckers won’t win. Caught up in her grief, Loretta trembles against me as I recall our hands clutched in the cold, listening to the screams of our sisters, begging for mercy. Of the intense hunger and fear. We did it, though. We’re breathing. We’re alive. Loved by men. Loved by our sisters. Loved by our families. We made it out. We made it to today.

One by one, the sisters release their holds until all is left is three—Jade, Loretta, and me—our foreheads pressed together.

“Thank you for being here,” I whisper.

“Always,” Loretta vows on a sniffle, and Jade nods.

“I’m getting married today.” As the words fall, a sense of awe reaches into my chest and squeezes its tight fist around my heart.

I’m getting married today.

To my son’s real father.

To a man who accepts me.

Who saved me.

Who loves me.

Today, I become a real Sacred Sister.

Today, these women will be by my side for always.

Today, I am freed.

CHAPTERFORTY-THREE

GUNZ

Since the moment I woke this mornin’, alone, in Big’s clubhouse bedroom, after an impromptu bachelor party of club whores and booze, everything’s been a fuckin’ blur. I’m here, but I’m not. And before you worry your pretty little head, I didn’t partake in any of the whores or libations. I was sober the entire time. I learned my lesson. My dick belongs to one woman and one woman alone. When Jizz tried to get me a lap dance, I declined. When they tried to get me to take a shot from a woman’s big, luscious tits, I spun her around and made them take the shot. Not my thing. Not anymore. This man is taken. This man is also about to burst out of his fuckin’ skin.

Marriage jitters are a real goddamn thing.

I’m livin’ proof.

Since the moment I opened my eyes, I’ve had ants in my pants—like I took a line of the finest coke. It’s been decades since I’ve lived that wild, and let me tell ya, the feeling’s the same as I remember. Only I’m stone fuckin’ sober, all sweaty, and unable to sit still. So, I’ve kept busy, helpin’ Debbie set shit up for my wedding.

She wasn’t keen on it at first until I explained what’s doin’, and she relented. We’ve got potted flowers every-fuckin’-where. Tables for food. Damn, good food. Our chairs are full of brothers, many of who rode in from out of state to be here. Some of their old ladies tagged along, too. The compound’s burstin’ with family.

My woman isn’t here yet.

Chewin’ a hole through the side of my cheek, I’m standin’ at the head of some aisle we made. Debbie rolled a red runner thingy down the center. Big’s up here with me, wearing his cut and a dumbass clerical collar he fashioned outta somethin’. You know what I’m talkin’ about. The white piece religious men wear when they’re men of God. Only, Big ain’t a man of no god. He’s a sarcastic fucker, who’s takin’ his reasonability of marryin’ us far too seriously. If I hadn’t nixed the idea early this mornin’, he planned on wearing a large wooden cross attached to a leather strap around his neck. That’s Big for ya.

Every eye in the crowd is on me.

I adjust the neck of my cut, hopin’ it’ll somehow calm these nerves, then roll my shoulders a handful of times to loosen them up. Kit’s takin’ forever. The sisters have already taken their seats, apart from Bink, who’s got my blonde grandbaby and the adorable redheaded Dom, at the start of the runner, ready to do their part as ring bearer and flower girl.

Tati and Janie kneel at the other end to help wave the kiddos thisaway. A chorus of laughter rings out when Leech turns to Dom and boops him on the nose with her palm. He staggers a step back, flashing her an offended stink-eye. When she doesn’t get the smile she’s after, Leech turns to her mama and pouts. Bink boops her nose in return, and my grandbaby breaks into a fit of tinkly giggles. The sound alone makes me forget my own chewed-up nerves for a beat as the first smile I’ve brandished all day rises to the surface.

For a suspended moment, everything is peace in my world until my son comes into view, and on his arm… her.

Big clasps me on my shoulder when I forget to breathe.

He squeezes me there hard enough to bruise and slaps a white handkerchief to the center of my chest when he catches me welling up. This is straight up happening.

The boy nobody gave a shit about. The man incapable of doin’ anythin’ more than pleasure a woman is gonna have a wife. A mighty fine, tough-as-nails wife. A wife who beams at me every day for no reason than she wants to. A woman who listens and cares. Really cares. Who spends time asking questions—deep, meaningful ones. A forgiving woman who sees my flaws and doesn’t stop lovin’ me anyhow.

And beside her is my kid wearing his cut.

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