Page 119 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
Winnie snorted. “She’s lying,” she blurted out, eyes lighting up. “Halo’s your biggest fan!”
Halo turned slowly, her eyes promising violence. “Winnie, what the hell girl? What happened to bros before hoes?”
“What? Don’t miss your chance with this fine-ass man. She wears your jersey for every home game. She doesn’t miss a game. NBA or MLB wise.”
Davinchi’s attention was laser-focused on Halo. “What number jersey?”
“Fifteen,” Halo mumbled, looking like she wanted to disappear.
“My championship number,” he said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “That tells me everything I need to know.” His voice dropped lower. “You got a week.”
“A week for what exactly?”
“To clean up whatever situation you got going on. When I get off the road, I’m coming for you. Don’t try me, Angel.”
We watched Halo’s cheeks flush despite her attitude. Something in his tone made it clear this wasn’t a joke he was dead serious. I hoped this didn’t get messy. Neither of them was wrapped too tight.
“Attention, everyone!” Samaj’s voice cut through the tension. “If you could gather in the main lobby, we’re about to start the ribbon-cutting!”
As people moved toward the front of the building, I felt Sametra’s hand slip into mine.
The crowd gathered as I picked up the oversized scissors, Sametra on one side of me, Mama on the other. Camera phones came out, and I could see Samaj positioning himself to get the perfect shot for social media.
“Before I cut this ribbon,” I said, my voice carrying across the lobby, “I want to thank everyone who made this possible. My mama, who taught me too never give up and let anyone count me out.”
I looked down at Sametra. “And you, my beautiful fiancée, who supported this dream even when it meant starting over from scratch. What someone meant for bad, we turned around and made it for good. You’ve been so patient with me. Strong all while carrying my child. I can’t thank you enough.”
I positioned the scissors on the ribbon, taking one last look at everything I’d built. Six months ago, I’d walked away from security and stepped out on faith. Today, I was opening my own practice, surrounded by family, with a baby on the way and a wedding to plan.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” I said, and cut the ribbon.
The applause shook the ground, and people immediately started flowing into the building to explore. I watched them check out the treatment rooms, the children’s area, the group therapy space, and felt a satisfaction deeper than anything I’d experienced at the hospital. No weapon formed against this family could prosper.
JULY 15TH
“Aye, you see your brother out there, Summer?” I whispered to the four-month-old baby girl nestled in my arms, her tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb. “That’s your big brother about to show out.”
Summer looked up at me with those big brown eyes that were a perfect mix of mine and her mama’s, gurgling something that sounded like she was agreeing with me. Baby girl was alert as hell, always looking around like she was taking mental notes on everything.
“She’s gonna be spoiled rotten,” Sametra said, sliding closer to me on the bleachers. Even in the July heat, my wife was glowing. Pregnancy had been good to her, but motherhood had her looking like a straight goddess. “Look at how she’s got you wrapped around her finger already.”
“Man, look at how she got all of us wrapped,” I said, adjusting Summer’s tiny onesie jersey, hat, and sunglasses. “Mama been video chatting every day just to see this little face.”
“Because she’s perfect,” Sametra cooed, reaching over to stroke Summer’s chubby cheek. “Aren’t you, baby girl? Yes, you are.”
The crack of the bat echoed across the field, and we looked up to see Samaj rounding first base, his leg pumping strong as ever. Kid had not only made a full recovery, he’d earned a full ride to the University of Alabama and was tearing up their summer league. Today we were in attendance for an exhibition game the city put on to raise money for misplaced families.
“That’s how you do it!” I called out, standing up carefully so I didn’t jostle Summer. “Let’s go, Maj!”
“Sit down, you’re embarrassing him,” Sametra laughed, but she was clapping loud as hell too. “Go Samaj!”
“Nah, he loves this shit. Look at him grinning.”
Sure enough, Samaj was beaming as he slid into second base safely, pointing up at us in the stands. He’d grown into himself completely. Confident on and off the field, mature beyond his years, and the best big brother Summer could ask for. Her whole face would light up whenever she heard his voice.
“I thought his baseball career was over,” Sametra said quietly, now bouncing Summer on her knee.
“But I told you we weren’t claiming that,” I said, wrapping my arm around my wife. “And now he’s back on the field and thriving.”
