Page 33 of Tangled Hearts
“Don’t be,” he cut her off hand still on her neck making her middle thump wildly.
She searched his face. “You staying?”
He didn’t move. “You want me to?”
Her silence was louder than any answer.
Hov stood up just long enough to take off his chain. Then he pulled her hand, guiding her to the bedroom without another word.
He didn’t touch her like she was up for grabs. He didn’t ask for anything. He just laid back, let her crawl in beside him, and pulled the blanket over them both. Her head rested on his chest. His arm locked tight around her waist.
They didn’t speak again.
But the silence between them wasn’t empty.
It was safe.
It wastheirs.
Always theirs.
It didn’t take long for her light snores to play a melody against his ears.
Head on his chest. Her hand curled near his ribs like she knew exactly where she fit. Like her body remembered something her mind tried to forget.
Hov couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to. He just stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy and mind racing.
He’d been in love with Knycole since they were ten. Long before he knew what love really was. Back when it was just laughs and secrets, fights at the bus stop, and splitting Honey Buns at lunch. They’d both lost parents in different ways—hers emotionally, his physically. That kind of bond don’t dissolve.
They were each other’s first everything. First kiss. First time. First heartbreak.
First person he ever prayed for.
But he was hungry back then. Hungry in a way people with mamas and heat in their homes didn’t understand. While she was going through shit, he was out stealing food and trying not to get caught up in the system. Trying to dodge CPS while figuring out which house had enough soap for him to wash up before school. He ain’t have time to dream. He had to survive.
So he let her slip away.
Rock stepped in.
And even though Rock was his boy—his brother, he watched from the background. Silent. Chest tight. Telling himself she was safer with someone who could give her something solid.
But damn if it didn’t still sting.
Now here she was back under his arm, sharing her bed, breathing evenly, trusting him with her sleep.
Hov didn’t know what this meant. If it meant anything. But he knew how it felt.
And it felt like coming home.
Some strings don’t break, even when you try to cut them. They tangle. Tighten. Wrap around your ribs until you can’t tell the difference between pain and love.
That was Knyc.
She was his string.
The one he kept trying to ignore but kept tripping over anyway.
He kissed her hair.
