Page 95 of Tangled Hearts
It wasn’t just about revenge. It was about the years he couldn’t get back. The family that could’ve been his. The trustthat could never be repaired. No matter how much he told himself to leave it in the past, it kept finding him every morning when he opened his eyes.
Once he had his self together, he trekked to the kitchen where he could hear his daughter laughing with her mama.
The kitchen smelled like burnt bread and strawberry jelly. Rodeisha stood on a chair at the counter, her little hands pressing too hard on the bread as she tried to spread jelly with a butter knife.
“Daddy,” she said proudly, “I’m making you breakfast.”
Rock leaned against the counter, watching with a grin he couldn’t hide. “You smushing the hell outta that bread.”
Rodeisha laughed, her hair sticking out in every direction. “You still gon’ eat it.”
Shakeisha tied her robe tighter around her waist. “Don’t tease her, Rock. She really thinks she’s Chef Boyardee this morning.” Her tone was patient. It wasn’t the same Shakeisha Rock used to know—the one always on edge and sharp with her words. The girl he used to know had transformed into a woman. She grabbed the knife gently from her daughter’s hand and showed her how to spread the jelly without ripping the bread. “Like this, see? Gentle. Everything don’t gotta be rough.”
Rock caught her words, the way they landed heavier than jelly on toast. He nodded, quietly.
Rodeisha hopped down and ran off to grab juice boxes. Shakeisha slid Rock a plate with toast, eggs, and bacon. He raised an eyebrow. “I thought y’all was just gon’ leave me with that sandwich.”
“That’s all your baby.” Shakeisha smiled, sitting across from him. “I couldn’t let her daddy starve. You been doing good with her, Rock.”
He shrugged, trying not to show how much that meant. “I’m tryin’. She deserve it.”
Shakeisha leaned forward just watching him. “What about you? What do you deserve?”
He took a bite of bacon before answering. “Still figurin’ that out. I been sketchin’ a little… drawing. Started tattooing in there. Was thinkin’ maybe that’s somethin’ I can do for real.”
Her eyes softened. “That’s good. You always had that in you—patience for detail, even if people couldn’t see it. It’d be good for you. For her.” She nodded toward the sound of Rodeisha singing to herself in the living room.
Rock felt something warm crawl up in his chest. This—sitting at a table, his daughter laughing in the background, Shakeisha looking at him without hate—this was new. And he liked it.
His phone buzzed on the counter. He reached for it without thinking, thumb swiping over the notification. It was Knycole. It had been days since he saw her and they’d only talked a little here and there.
Shakeisha’s eyes caught it. She didn’t flinch or roll her eyes. “You still running behind her?” she asked.
Rock rubbed his face. “It ain’t like that. Me and Knyc… we got history.”
“I know.” Shakeisha’s voice was even. “But I’ve come too far to go back to number two. I spent too many years fighting for a man’s love. I won’t do it again. Not with you, not with anybody.”
“She just texted, Shakeisha. That’s all.”
She looked at him upside his head. “And you answered. That’s the part I’m talking about.” She stood, clearing his empty plate from the table. “I’m not mad. I just know my worth now. I’m not raising Rodeisha to watch me beg for love that’s split in two.”
Her words hit him harder than any fight they ever had. He sat there, silent, while she rinsed the dishes, her back turned but her energy still soft.
He’d seen the change in her with every visit she made. He saw the joy in her eyes when she talked about going to school to be a teacher. Shakeisha had worn her Scarlet letter long enough that it no longer defined her. He loved that for her but he wasn’t ready to fully commit to her.
His ego wouldn’t let him walk away from Knycole just yet. Even when he knew where his love truly lied.
From the living room, Rodeisha shouted, “Daddy! Come play with me!”
Rock looked at his phone one last time, then flipped it face down. He pushed back from the table, stood up, and walked toward his daughter’s voice.
“Don’t give my baby something you ain’t willing to keep up with. You ain’t gotta love her mama but don’t treat me like trash either.” Shakeisha spoke loud enough for him to hear her.
“A’ight, Shakeisha, I hear you.”
“Don’t hear me, nigga. Feel me cause I will never play about that one.”
Later that day, Rock and Shakeisha sat in the living room while Rodeisha napped in her room. The TV was on but muted. Rock sat slouched on the couch, one hand rubbing over his jaw, the other drumming against his knee. He was in his head, bad.
