Page 41 of Tangled Hearts
“I do get it,” he cut in. “I know you love him. He’s your daddy. But stop acting like it’s on you to fix him. If he left, he chose that. You ain’t gon’ love him sober if he don’t love himself sober.”
Knycole’s hands balled in her lap. “So what I’m supposed to do? Act like I don’t care?”
“Nah,” Hov whispered. “Care. But don’t break yourself chasing him. That ain’t your weight to carry.”
She leaned back against the headboard, chest heavy, heart torn. Part of her wanted to scream, part of her wanted to cry, and part of her just wanted Hov to keep talking because he always knew how to bring her back down.
He watched her for a long second, studying every twitch on her face. “You hear me, Knyc? You ain’t built to carry all that shit by yourself.”
Her lips quivered. “Then who else gon’ carry it?”
“I will.” His voice was patient like he was promising her more than just words. He shifted closer, hand sliding over her chest, landing on her neck, squeezing it—feeling her pulse skip and sputter. “I’ll carry it for you. Anything you got… your pain, your fears, your daddy, all that shit you don’t say out loud. I’ll take it. I’ll carry everything for you.”
Her eyes fluttered over to his.
He leaned in closer, his breath warm on her ear, calloused hand still gripping her neck. “That’s what you got me for. You don’t ever gotta fight none of this alone, kid. Long as I’m breathing, I’ma carry you.”
The weight of it sank in her chest, but it didn’t crush her this time. It felt like relief, like she could finally exhale. She blinked, tears threatening to fall again, but this time they came with a small smile tugging at her lips.
And Hov just sat back, cool as ever, but his hand stayed locked on her neck like he meant every word.
The visiting room smelled like bleach and tired air. Phones on the wall and glass scratched from years of hands pressed too close. Rock walked out in state greens, chains clinking around his ankles with the CO trailing behind. He carried himself like he wasn’t fazed, but his shoulders looked heavier than they ever had on the block.
Shakeisha was already sitting at the booth. Jacket zipped to her neck with her hair pulled back and eyes red like she’d been crying before she walked in. She jumped when she saw him. She was happy to see him but sad and anxious about what she needed to drop in his lap.
In his eyes, she was still everything he never shook loose. Same girl that laughed with him when they were too broke to do anything but sit on the curb. Same girl that knew every piece of his ugly and never ran. Same girl that embarrassed him in front of everybody but came crawling back to him at night. She wasn’t perfect. Not even close but she was his first real taste of love, and that had a way of sitting in a man’s bones whether he wanted it to or not.
To Rock, she was still every contradiction he couldn’t untangle. He’d cut her raw and deep, but she’d been there before anybody else. She was messy, but she was always honest. The hood clowned him for still creeping back to her when he had Knycole, but nobody knew how deep she sat in his blood. Sitting there now, zipped up tight with her eyes already wet, she looked like every piece of history he could never erase.
He hated that he couldn’t just stand up, grab her, and shield her. Instead, the glass split them in two.
Rock slid onto the stool and picked up the phone. “What’s up, Kesh?”
Her voice cracked through the receiver. “You in here looking like someone I don’t even know.”
“I’m still me,” he said, forcing a smile. “Ain’t nothing gon’ change that.”
She shook her head like she didn’t believe him. Tears welled up fast. “I didn’t wanna do this, Rock.”
“Do what?” He felt the unease rise in his gut. Rock sat up, one hand resting against his stomach to control the ugly feeling you got when bad shit was about to get worse.
He’d already been told he was probably doing five to ten. He hoped for the five but knowing the flawed system, they’d rather lock up his frontal lobe before it could even develop fully.
“Bring a kid in this world with a daddy that’s locked up.” Her hand went flat against her stomach. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted ripping the Band-Aid off.
There was no need to beat around when they only had a cool thirty minutes.
Rock’s throat bobbed. The words just sat there, but it didn’t scare him the way she thought it would. He let it sink in. His baby.His.“You sure?”
“I been throwing up every morning. Missed my cycle. Doctor confirmed it a week ago. You gon’ be somebody’s daddy.”
His chest hurt, but not in a bad way. It hurt because he wanted to reach across and hold her, tell her it was okay. He hated that she felt alone. “Good,” he said. “That’s good.”
Her face twisted like he’d cussed at her. “Good? How’s it good, Rock? You’re in there. I’m out here. My baby ain’t gon’ know his daddy. You know how that feel? That’s the same painwe swore we wouldn’t put on our kids. This the shit we laughed about when we talked about us not having daddies.”
He pressed the phone harder to his ear, leaning close to the glass. “Don’t cry about what we can’t change. Cry if you need to, but don’t stay there. You’re strong enough to raise that baby. And I’ma be strong enough to be here for both of y’all the best I can.”
She shook her head. “Letters and phone calls ain’t no daddy, Rodrick.”
