Page 25 of Love Me Now: Adrian & Kwamé
“Hush,” I chided. “You’re not killing anyone because of me.”
“Shiittt… You don’t know me very well, do you, baby?”
I glanced at him as he cut into his steak. The frown remained. Not a hint of humor laid in truth behind his eyes.
“Adrian?”
“Yeah, lil’ mama.”
“I’m not your girl—”
“Not you finna fuck up the mood by makin’ me live in reality.”
Waking up without Adrian beside me was a feeling I hated. Especially because there would be many days like this. Come August, he’d be knee deep in his rotations. Life would be so boring without him near. He was so thoughtful, sweet, and funny as hell. I was going to miss that every day. Nevertheless, I was stuck to him like glue and would see him through every single day of the rest of his journey to becoming a doctor. I wouldn’t be selfish and add more stress to him by pouting about the situation.
Relief washed through me, recalling that I’d confessed my trauma to Adrian. At first, I thought he would blame me, orworse, not believe me. He listened, though, and held me until I was all cried out. I fell asleep with his whispered decrees floating around in my head.
Getting out of bed, I was heading for the bathroom when something on the television caught my attention. A picture of Damon was on the screen. I thought to walk past until a video appeared on the screen, showing yellow tape in front of a large mansion. My heart stopped inside my chest as I grabbed the remote, rewound the newsclip, pressed play, and turned the television up. My fingers shook as I held the remote.
“…Sad news coming from the NBA. Superstar power-forward, Damon Brooks, was found dead in his home.”
My heart pounded, and I felt light-headed as blood rushed through my ears.
“Around 9 a.m. eastern time, Brooks was discovered by his cleaning service. Details of Brooks’s death aren’t clear at this time. However, authorities do not suspect foul play.”
“Mornin’, baby,” Adrain drawled, startling me.
He stood by the door, quietly observing me.
“You… You…” My voice trembled as I stared at the man who’d confessed his love for me. Slowly, he approached me. The expression on his face gave nothing away. As he stood in front of me, he peered down at me, sighed, then pushed his hands into the pockets of his black joggers.
“I didn’t kill him the way I wanted to,” he revealed. “He should’ve suffered. I wanted him to think about what he did to you. I wanted to make him feel as hopeless and powerless as you felt. I wanted to remove every one of his fingers and wrap them muthafuckas around his throat. If you ask me, he got off easy as fuck.”
Blinking up at Adrian, the emptiness behind his eyes scared the fuck out of me. I’d never seen him like this before. When his fingers touched my chin, I jumped a little.
His eyes narrowed. “Does my touch scare you now?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m just surprised is all.” This time when his fingers smoothed over my cheek, the love he felt for me soothed the fear away.
“We good?” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied. “I love you.”
His eyes flickered with life, then he smiled. “I love you.”
As crazy as it sounded, Damon made his own bed. The moment he threatened me, he sealed his own fate. I couldn’t be mad at my man for handling business the way he saw fit.
Later that afternoon, Dr. Lewis summoned me to her office. I was out shopping with Adrian and Jessie, which was a good distraction from the news of the day. The media was going wild with theories on what happened to Damon. The NBA world was stunned because the Jets were only two games away from a championship and their star player was deceased.
Adrian pulled up in front of the high-rise building where the Jets’ human resources offices were located. My office was on the seventh floor, two doors down from Dr. Lewis’s.
“I’ma park and wait for you in the lobby,” he told me. He leaned over the arm rest to kiss me just as Russ opened my door. Taking a deep breath, I got out and let Russ walk me inside the building and to the elevators. Once I reached the seventh floor, I went straight to the suite where the medical staff’s offices were located.
Seeing my face made everyone bittersweet. They knew I wasn’t due back until August, yet here I was because someone decided to kill DeAnna. I hugged my colleagues, then went to Dr. Lewis’s office.
I walked inside Dr. Lewis’s office and shot a surreptitious glance at the gentleman sitting across from her desk. He was a dark-skinned man wearing a custom black suit and expensive loafers. I’d never seen him before.
“Thank you for coming by, Kwamé,” Dr. Lewis said. “Have a seat. I want to introduce you to Special Agent Tracy King with the FBI.”
