Page 61 of The Spark

Fuck.

I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around my phone as my breath grew uneven. I dropped my phone on the couch, rubbing at my forehead.

No.

I couldn’t let him do this to me.

Not when I had spent so many nights convincing myself I was making the right choice.

26

My parents’ house smelled like home.

I clocked the scent of lemon cleaner, fresh sheets, and a faint trace of incense burning somewhere down the hall. Nah, it was something deeper than that. It was comfort. It was steadiness. It was love.

I hadn’t been by in a while, but my mother must’ve sensed I needed it. As soon as she opened the door and saw my face, she didn’t say a word. Just wrapped me in one of those warm, still hugs that made it feel like everything I’d been carrying didn’t have to be held alone anymore.

“You want something to drink?” she murmured against my shoulder.

“I’m good.”

“You will be,” she said, stepping back, her palm on my cheek. “You stay long enough and you will be.”

She was already back in the kitchen, seasoning catfish, prepping cabbage, slicing yams. I sat on the edge of the living room couch, elbows on knees, staring at the TV that wasn’t even turned on.

I didn’t have to wait long before my father came in. Quiet, like always. He eased down in the chair across from me, tugging at the brim of his fitted cap before leaning back.

“She not with you,” he said. Not a question. Just truth.

I shook my head.

He nodded once, slow. “You messed it up?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “I did.”

He didn’t say I told you so. I’d been bracing for that. Hell, I thought I needed it. But he just let the silence stretch, let it get still.

Then—“You love her?”

I looked at him, my chest tight. “Yeah.”

“You tell her that?”

My jaw clenched. “Not the way I should’ve.”

He nodded again. “Then tell her. But do it right. Don’t go tryin’ to talk her out of her pain. Don’t try to win her back with words you didn’t live by. Just show up. Stay present. If it’s real? She’ll see it. She’ll know.”

I stared down at my hands. They didn’t feel steady. Nothing did.

“But what if she never sees it?” I asked.

My father looked at me, long and quiet. Then said, “Then you love her anyway.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Her voice. Her face when she saw Tasha. Her silence in the car. The way she shut the door without another word.

I picked up my phone and stared at our last few texts. Then I typed the only thing that made sense.

Me:You free tomorrow? Highland Park?

---