Page 53 of Crossing Lines

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Jamir snarls. “Get in your car and get the fuck out of here.”

A murderous look fogs his eyes as he edges closer. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that, bruh.”

“I’ll talk to you however—”

“Stop it!” I implore and twist to Kross, telling him, “Thank you. I’m all right.”

His eyes remain intense. “You want me to leave?”

“The fuck?” Jamir scoffs.

“Please go,” I urge Kross, even though my heart doesn’t want that.

He sniffs and walks back to his car, giving me another look before peeling off.

“We need to talk.” Jamir storms up the stairs to my apartment, marching inside after I unlock the door. He drops the suitcase on the rug and turns to me with his arms folded tightly. “I can’t believe you pulled up with the same man you chilled with at the club.”

I place the grocery bags on the kitchen island. “Kross is Iree’s friend. I told you he picked her up at the airport.”

“Bullshit!” he barks. “That was hours ago, and Iree wasn’t in that car. He broughtyouhome. Have you invited him in before?”

“What the hell?” I throw my hands up. “No. Why were you standing outside, anyway?”

“Left the key at my place. I tried calling you, but your phone’s off.” He glares at me. “I wonder why.”

Sucking my teeth, I take my phone out to check. “The battery died.”

“You realize thatnow?” he grunts, inching closer. “You fucking him, Davia?”

My eyes widen. “Are you serious? Weren’t you the one just at a country club with women?”

He wipes his mouth roughly. “I left work sooner to surprise you since you complained we’re not spending time together. But it seems you’re spending time with that loser.”

“Don’t call him that,” I defend Kross. “Had your ass been on time at the airport, he wouldn’t have brought me home. So checkyourbullshit instead of coming at me.”

“I wouldn’t be suspicious of your behavior if you weren’t hanging with that man!”

“You know what? Leave.” I yank the door open.

His jaw clenches. “You fucking serious right now?”

“Yes! Fucking leave!”

Without another word, he storms out and slams the door behind him.

My emotions are all over the place, and I can’t handle looking into his eyes after touching myself for Kross the night before.

Sighing, I plug my phone on charge, wait a few seconds, and power it on to check if I missed anyone else. As the lock screen loads, a text from my mom pops up.

MA: Dinner at my condo

tonight @ 8.

Bring my gifts from Paris.

She thinks of me only when she wants something.

My shoulders wilt from exhaustion. Neither my mom nor my man brings me joy.

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