Page 99 of Heavy Is The Crown

When Krys pulled up to scoop Kenyatta and Kaliyah, she immediately clocked the energy. It wasn’t loud or obvious. Kenyatta was there, present, but not fully. His movements were still sharp, his posture still relaxed, but the weight of something sat on him heavy.

His responses were shorter and his energy lower. His mind seemed to be running laps somewhere else entirely.

Kaliyah, tucked in the backseat with her tablet, didn’t seem to notice, but Krys always noticed.

As they rolled through Trinity Bay, she kept her focus on the road, but her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror every so often, catching quick glances of his face.

When they hit a stoplight, she finally let the curiosity win.

“You okay?” Her voice was casual, smooth, but pointed.

Kenyatta dragged a hand over his jaw, exhaling slow. “Yeah.”

Krys let that silence sit for a second before adjusting her grip on the wheel. “Nah. Try again.”

He glanced at her, smirking slightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always this nosy?”

Krys smirked right back. “I prefer observant.”

She had dressed down but somehow still looked like she belonged in a lifestyle he had no business admiring. Simple but expensive. Her chocolate brown maxi dress hugged her frame, and the gold hoops in her ears glinted in the soft evening sun. She had her hair up, messy, cascading the sides of her face, showing off the delicate, soft curves of her neck. She had barely done anything to her face, but still flawless as always.

Kenyatta shifted in his seat, his gaze lingering on Krys longer than he intended. Something small, delicate, and almost unnoticeable sat just behind her right ear: a tattoo. It was subtle, damn near faded, but it was there.

He squinted, trying to make it out, but the way her hair was pinned up in that effortless,I don’t gotta try too hardkind-of-way, it was mostly hidden as it has always been once he thought about it. She rarely styled her hair completely up.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward her ear. “I never knew you had a tattoo there.”

Krys frowned slightly, side-eyeing him before catching on. She reached up instinctively, fingers grazing the ink.

She shrugged, turning her focus back to the road. “Something stupid I did a long time ago.”

Kenyatta frowned. “A nigga name?”

Krys scoffed, lips pulling into an insulted frown of her own. “Do I look like I would get a man’s name tatted on me?”

Kenyatta let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “You tell me. You ever been that down bad?”

Krys rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips still curved. “Not a chance.”

Kenyatta nodded, still amused. “So, what is it then?”

Krys tapped her fingers against the wheel, her response nonchalant. “Nothing important.”

The way she said it made him more curious. It wasn’t the words; it was the way she brushed it off too easily. But he would let go for now. He’d circle back to that later.

He leaned back, watching as she turned onto the cobblestone streets of Old Trinity, the sound of the tires humming beneath them.

The shift in environment was instant. The air smelled different, like aged wood, blooming jasmine, and freshly baked biscuits drifting from the famous Southern eateries that had been there longer than either of them had been alive.

The streets were lined with the usual massive oak trees draped in Spanish moss that didn’t exist in the hood, their shadows stretching long under the golden June sky.

Kenyatta sat in the passenger seat, arms resting casually on his thighs as Krys pulled into the driveway behind a few other parked cars, the scent of something good already drifting from the house.

Located at the edge of the historic district, the place looked exactly how he imagined a mother’s home should: quaint, warm, the kind of spot where memories got made over Sunday dinners and front porch conversations.

Nothing too flashy, but you could tell this house held history. A real home. One that had seen holiday meals, family arguments, kids running through the hallways with bare feet and sticky fingers.

Kenyatta leaned against the passenger door of Krys’ car, watching her with narrowed eyes as she applied a final touch of gloss to her lips in the mirror.

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