Page 116 of Heavy Is The Crown

Another pause.

“The past don’t really let you go, does it?”

The weight of Kenyatta’s words still hung between them, heavy like thick smoke that refused to clear.

Neither of them spoke immediately. Krys wasn’t rushing to fill the silence. She just let it breathe; like she was letting everything sink in.

Kenyatta wasn’t used to opening up to someone who seemed to take a genuine interest in his internal struggles and who he was as a person. Most people either wanted to judge him, save him, or use him. But with Krys, it felt like she simply was seeing him. For who he was, for who he had been, for who he was trying to be.

“So, when I get to meet your people?” Krys asked, breaking the silence.

Kenyatta’s fork paused midair. “Who said you get to?”

Krys lifted a brow. “So, I bring you into my world, introduce you to my family, and I don’t get the same?”

Kenyatta licked his lips, setting his fork down. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because my world ain’t like yours, Krys.”

Krys exhaled, sitting back. “You think I don’t know that?”

Kenyatta studied her, tapping his fingers against the table again. She was serious. She wanted to know him. His world. His people. This was both intriguing and scary as hell.

Krys took another sip of wine, eyes still locked on his. “You trust me, Yatta?”

Kenyatta tilted his head slightly, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. “Is that the real question you wanted to ask?”

Krys didn’t blink. “Just answer it.”

He leaned back in his seat, watching her, letting the moment stretch.

Then, voice low, smooth, and undeniably real.

“Yeah. I do.”

Chapter 29

Kenyatta sat in his car, hands on the wheel, but he hadn’t started the engine yet. Lunch with Krys had been different. Not because of the food. Not because of the Midtown atmosphere that was a stark contrast from where he usually found himself.

It was different because of her.

She had been direct, no-nonsense, sharp as hell. She asked real questions, pushed him, made him say things out loud that he never really voiced. He didn’t necessarily hate it, but that was the problem: Krys made it too easy for him to forget who he was and start thinking about who he could be.

Kenyatta exhaled sharply, finally turning the key and bringing the engine to life. He needed to get his mind right. Focus.

His phone vibrated in the cup holder. He glanced down at the screen: Nub.

Kenyatta exhaled before answering, putting the phone on speaker. “Aye, what up, Q?”

His brother’s deep chuckle came through the line. “I can’t call it; just checking on your ass. You still alive? Or you too busy playing house to check in?”

Kenyatta chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Here you go.”

“Nah, real shit though,” Nub continued. “What you got goin’ on this weekend? You knowSunday at The Water‘bout to be live. People gon’ be out in celebration of that Black shit…you know that June shit. You comin’ out or what?”

Kenyatta rubbed his jaw, already feeling the pressure before Nub even finished his sentence.

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