Page 106 of Heavy Is The Crown

Traci didn’t flinch. She stood there, eyes locked on his, making sure he saw what the hell she was made of.

Bishop must’ve seen enough, because a second later, he adjusted his jacket and took a slow step back.

“No disrespect. Just a message.”

And with that he turned, moving back toward the blacked-out SUV parked at the curb.

Traci watched him the entire way, her hands clenched into fists, rage simmering just beneath her skin.

The second he disappeared inside the vehicle and the tires rolled off the curb, she stepped back inside, the screen door creaking as she locked it twice.

She wasn’t shaken.

She was pissed.

And when Kenyatta walked his ass through that door later, he was going to have to answer for this shit. She told both her sons not to have that street mess come to her door.

Because one thing about Traci, she wasn’t about to let her son’s past become her present problem.

**********

The drive back to Bayfront Heights was quieter than usual.

No teasing. No quick remarks. No playful banter.

Just the steady hum of the tires against the pavement, the soft glow of streetlights flickering through the windshield, and the occasional sound of Kaliyah shifting in the backseat as she dozed off, worn out from the long night.

Krys gripped the wheel a little tighter, sneaking a glance at Kenyatta from the corner of her eye. He was staring out the passenger window, his jaw tight, his fingers lightly tapping against his knee. He wasn’t tense, but he was somewhere else; not here with her. She hated that she even noticed.

Krys let out a slow breath, focusing back on the road. Something was bothering him.

He had been himself at her mother’s house; laughing, eating, chopping it up with Panda, Stevie and Jared. He had even loosened up enough to tease her about her high-maintenance ways when she barely touched her plate because Pam had cooked smothered turkey wings instead of something “clean” like grilled salmon. But as the night wore on, something shifted. Kenyatta had gotten quiet again. Withdrawn.

Like something had settled back onto his shoulders. Something heavy.

One thing was for sure, Krys wasn’t used to caring this much about what was on a man’s mind. However, with Kenyatta, she cared.

By the time they pulled into her long, curved driveway, Krys could already feel the difference between this time and last. The night of the graduation, Kenyatta and Kaliyah had stayed. It had felt natural, easy. Everything made sense.

Tonight, he was leaving. It shouldn’t have made her feel like something was missing, but it did.

She put the car in park and turned off the engine. Kenyatta let out a small sigh and rubbed his hands together before turning to wake Kaliyah gently. She stirred, rubbing her eyes before mumbling sleepily, “We home?”

“Nah, baby, we at Ms. Krys’ house,” Kenyatta said softly, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Krys sat there for a second, gripping the wheel, ignoring the tightness in her chest as she realized he didn’t consider this home.

Wait.

Why would he?

Krys turned toward them, watching as Kenyatta lifted Kaliyah from the seat with the same care she had witnessed before; the kind of care that told her that, no matter what demons he battled, no matter what weight he carried, this little girl was the only thing that truly grounded him. That made her feel something even worse than disappointment.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

Instead, Kenyatta cut his eyes at her, already reading her before she could get a word in. “What?”

Krys hesitated. “Y’all not staying?”

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