Jamal’s sister sat across from us, swinging her legs back and forth, eyeing me with the kind of judgment that only a fourteen-year-old with too much emotional intelligence could manage.

“You look tired,” she noted.

“Thanks.”

Jamal hummed thoughtfully. “Is it the weight of your sins?”

I shot him a look.

Amina took a sip of her lemonade, eyes still locked on me. “You should do something about that.”

Jamal snorted. “Yeah, Blake. Do something about that.”

“I was doing something about it,” I shot back. “By avoiding human interaction. Then you made me come here.”

Jamal gaped at me. “Made you? I graciously invited you to break bread with my family.”

His sister squinted at me, her gaze sharp and assessing as she set down her lemonade. She folded her arms, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Are you drinking enough water, Blake?”

“Amina.”

“Are you eating?”

I gestured to my plate. “Literally, yes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What about your spirit, Blake?”

Jamal winked. “She’s diagnosing your soul, buddy.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. “Amina, I promise I’m fine.”

“McHayes.” Jamal narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like your tone.”

“Don’t like your face, so we’re even.”

Amina let out a deep sigh, like she knew all about exhaustion. “You need tea, Blake.”

“Tea?” I deadpanned.

“Yes. And a good nap.”

“She’s not wrong, though,” Jamal chimed in.

I stared at them both. “Great. Love this pep talk.”

Before either of them could add to my diagnosis, the door to the diner slammed open, the bell jangling violently.

We all turned our heads just in time to see Tiffany storm in like she was on a personal mission from God.

“Oh, for the love of—” I turned to Jamal. “What did you do?”

But Tiffany was already making a beeline for our booth, sunglasses perched on her head, her pink nails clicking against the table as she placed both hands on it, staring daggers at Jamal.“You!”

Jamal smiled. “Hey, Tiff.”

“You lied to me!”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, and he held up one hand as if making a solemn vow. “I have never lied in my life⁠—”

“‘Tiffany,’” she mimicked in a terrible deep voice. “‘You have to come. It’s a serious emergency. Blake is in danger.’” She scowled. “I broke multiple traffic laws getting here, Jamal.”

“And yet, here you are. Safe. Alive. Beautiful,” he said, his grin widening at her barely contained rage.

Tiffany slammed her hand down, making my water shake. “Why the hell did you really call me?”

Jamal lifted his cup, took a slow sip. “Felt like it.”

Tiffany lunged.

I caught her mid-swing, dragging her down into the booth before she committed a felony. “Jesus Christ, woman.”

“I hate you,” she hissed at him.

Jamal frowned, shaking his head. “You adore me.”

“I will stab you and⁠—”