Page 79 of Free to Fall

“We made it,” Averi said quietly.

“Still makin’ it,” Nas corrected, pride thick in his voice. “And I’m just glad I get to watch my woman shine.” That earned him another peck from me and a soft rub of my hand over his thigh.

Dinner carried on with laughter and more toasts. Plates were passed around, drinks topped off, and for a moment, there was no grief or pressure. Just us. Just love, success, and the bond that had always carried us through.

And in that moment, I was reminded, this was our circle, our tribe. No matter how crazy life got…we were always gonna have this.

Later that night, we were back in our suite. My lashes were off. Jewelry on the nightstand. I had one of Nasseem’s tees on, oversized and smelling like his cologne. I was brushing through my curls at the vanity when I felt him behind me, the weight of his stare pressing into the mirror.

“You still glowing from that stage,” he said low, stepping behind me.

I smirked. “That SNL lighting hit different.”

“Nah,” he said, resting his hands on my shoulders, his voice deeper now. “That glow’s all you.” I set the brush down. Our eyes met in the reflection, and I watched him lean down, his lips grazing the top of my shoulder. He dragged his fingers along my collarbone, slow, deliberate. “You ain’t just beautiful on stage, E,” he murmured. “You powerful.” A soft hum left my lips as I tilted my head, giving him more space. He moved like he was memorizing me all over again—hands roaming, kisses trailing heat down the back of my neck. “I missed you,” he whispered, voice rough, thick with want.

“I’m right here,” I breathed, heart pounding.

His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against him. “You don’t know what that means to me.” I turned in his arms, facing him now. Our eyes locked. Everything that we’d been through, the pain, the healing, the love—it was there, sitting heavy between us.

“You sure you feel well enough for this?” I asked softly, palms resting on his chest.

He nodded. “I’m sure I want you.”

My lips parted to respond, but he kissed me before I could say anything else. Soft and warm. Like a promise sealed in fire. One hand on my face, the other on my lower back, guiding me toward the bed without ever breaking the kiss.

And I let him. Because tonight wasn’t about the applause; or the fame, or the trauma we carried. Tonight was just... us. Our love which was unspoken. But loud as hell.

21

NASSEEM

Three months had passed since the girls’ press tour in New York. Egypt was back in her bag—booked and busy. Promo runs, magazine shoots, rehearsals, interviews. Her face was damn near everywhere, and she was glowing, even if she didn’t always feel like it. I watched her move like a machine, on set all day, in the studio all night. And still somehow finding time for us, for therapy, for healing.

Me? I was gettin’ stronger. Physically, mentally. I was finally starting to feel like myself again. The bruises were gone, and the bullet wound that damn near took me out had faded into scar tissue. My body still ached on certain days, and physical therapy was a bitch, but I was back in the ring, sparring this time with Raul Montes, an amateur fighter Reg was helping to train.

That’s where I was when my phone buzzed on the bench. I almost didn’t check it. I’d been trying to keep my mind clear while I trained. Therapy and grief both made that harder. But something in my chest told me to look.

It was a text from Jay, my manager.

Jay: Call me ASAP. DA finally confirmed charges.

My heart beat different reading that. I grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat from my face, and called him right there ringside. "Talk to me," I said the moment he picked up.

“They filed,” Jay said, his voice low. “Attempted robbery, conspiracy to commit assault with a deadly weapon, reckless endangerment, all of it’s been locked in. Your brother’s officially being charged. No bail.” I didn’t say anything for a moment. I just sat down on the bench and stared ahead, nodding. Jay sighed on the other end. “I know this ain’t easy, Nas. But this part? It’s done. The legal system’s gonna take it from here.”

“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “Thanks, bro.”

After we hung up, I sat there with my fists clenched in the towel, sweat running down my arms, heat rushing through my face like a fuse just got lit. This was what I wanted, right? Justice, distance and a break from the chaos Nate had dragged me into.

But all I could picture was that dusty-ass apartment we used to live in as kids. The way Nate used to post up at the door every time shit in the neighborhood got hot, chest out, daring anybody to come for me. That boy was the only real protector I had when it was just us against the world. And now, he was just another number in the system. A nigga who crossed the line and took something from me I’d never get back. He sent killers for my girl, got me shot and cost me my child. But somewhere in the wreckage, he was still my big brother.

I didn’t say shit about it for the rest of the day. Didn’t know how to. But when it came time for our joint therapy session that afternoon, I knew I couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

The therapist’soffice was as calm as usual. Cream walls, plants in the corners, soft jazz playing under the murmur of the city outside. Egypt sat next to me on the loveseat, wrapped in a soft-looking beige sweater and leggings, her hair in a slick ponytail. She looked tired, but warm. Like home.

Dr. Ellis was seated across from us, her notepad in hand. She was the kind of woman that didn’t flinch when the truth got ugly, and today I needed that.

“So, Nasseem,” she said gently, “I know there’s been a lot of progress. But I want to go back to something that may still be sitting with you. Egypt shared her truth about the loss you experienced. I want to give you space to share yours. What are you still holding?”

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