Page 2 of A Kingpin's Weakness
We came up the same: lights getting shut off, cold showers, and praying school lunch wasn’t the only thing we ate that day. We both knew what it felt like to grow up hungry. Not just for food but for something more. Stability. Peace. I guess we were just hungry in different ways.
Noah was obsessed with fast money. Ever since that first patch of chin hair came in at thirteen, you couldn’t tell him nothin’. Thought he was grown. Thought the streets were calling him personally.
It started as small petty theft, little things here and there. Then it escalated. Grand theft auto by fifteen. But the system treated him like the child he was. Thirty days in juvie. House arrest. Court-mandated therapy. Probation. Slaps on the wrist, really.
And every time, he played the part just long enough. Just like Jo taught him. She knew the drill: clean up the house, act right, and keep the noise down for a month till CPS closed the file again. Survival tactics. He learned that from her. How to put on the mask until the eyes stopped watching.
I pulled up the airline and typed in Stafford Creek. Just seeing the name again, it did something to me. Ten minutes later, the flight was booked. E-tickets hit my inbox like a final decision I wasn’t sure I made.
I just sat there. Frozen. Letting it sink in. My mind was racing but my body was stuck. I knew it was now or never. So, I put my feet on the cold wooden floor, let it ground me, and started pacing to the closet.
I pulled out the suitcase and that old duffle bag. The emergency ones. Always packed, just in case. I’d only ever had to use them twice. Once when my grandmother Sweetie got sick, and again when Jo overdosed.
After that, I kept them hidden. Tucked away in the back of my closet like everything else I didn’t want to face. But today? Today I pulled them out without hesitation. Because deep down, I knew I was going back.
Four hours later, I felt it; the breeze from home. Stafford Creek. It hit me the second those airport doors slid open, like the town itself knew I was back. The sun had the nerve to kiss my face like it was saying good morning but there wasn’t anything good about this morning.
I couldn’t move at first. My feet just stopped. Like my body forgot how to take another step. Like my heart already knew what my head didn’t want to hear.
I’ve walked into that hospital more times than I can count scraped knees, Sweetie health scares, Jo’s overdoses but never for Noah. And now here I am.
After I got my master’s, I thought about bringing Noah to live with me. Thought I could handle it. I had the space; the income it made sense. Would’ve saved me from trying to juggle bills across two households.
But by then, he was already deep in the mess; just reckless and unpredictable. And with my schedule, work, school, and volunteer stuff, I told myself I couldn’t keep an eye on him like I needed to. Or maybe that was just the excuse I chose to believe.
Cause deep down I knew I could do better than Jo. I knew it. But once you’ve tasted peace, real peace, the kind where you can breathe in your own space, sleep through the night, you don’t want to let go of that. Not for anyone. Even if thatanyoneis your baby brother.
I mean, I’ve been carrying weight since I was four. Taking care of Mom, taking care of everything. Don’t I deserve this life I built? Isn’t it okay to put Stormi first for once? Right?”
“You good, shorty?”
A low, masculine voice asked from behind me. I smelled the cedarwood from his cologne before I even seen his face. He stepped in front of me, smile lighting up like sunrise on dark chocolate skin. Clean. Confident. Dressed in all black like he was in mourning, but it didn’t hide the way that T-shirt clung to his body like it was stitched to muscle.
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, clutching my bags. “Let me move out of your way.”
I shifted to the side, trying to keep my eyes forward and on the doors. On the hospital. Because no matter how fine he was, I wasn’t here for distractions. I was here for Noah.
“Nah, you’re not in the way,” he said, cocking his head slightly. “You need help with your bags?”
He licked his lips subtly, but not subtle enough. His eyes traveled down my frame like this was a Friday night at a lounge, not the front of an emergency room.
“No, I’m fine,” I said, sharper this time. “Just not ready to go in yet.”
“The fear of the unknown,” he replied.
“What?” I blinked.
“This situation, it’s unfamiliar. Uncertainty has you stuck. You won’t know how bad it is until you step inside.” He held out his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk in with you.”
I looked up, finally meeting his eyes and they’re sincere. Not hungry. Not pressed. Just steady. Truthful. He and his boys could’ve walked past, but he stayed. Waiting. Holding space. That kind of gesture? It doesn’t come often.
I must’ve taken too long because suddenly, I felt his hand close around mine. Soft. Warm. Even though my palm is sweaty.
“Let’s go,” he says not asking. Commanding, but gentle.
He nodded at the guys behind him, and they scooped up my bags without a word.
He doesn’t pull. Doesn’t rush. Just waited while I inhaled, then exhaled.
