Morgan didn’t move. Fuck it. If he wanted to leave, he could leave. She was tired of crying, tired of the finger being pointed at her when she hadn’t been the one to cause this. Everything that was came from what had been. This was the butterfly effect of Messiah’s treachery, the consequence of his actions and the mistrust that had been birthed from his abandonment. Morgan walked over to her bag and snatched it up. She had never felt so misunderstood. There wasn’t a malicious bone in her body. She hadn’t kept this secret to spite Messiah. She had done it because she didn’t know him. His actions never backed up his words, so how could she be sure that he wouldn’t hurt her again—or worse, hurt her twins? Morgan couldn’t take chances with them. She had made a decision to give them a boring life. She wished she could undo it, but she couldn’t get time back, and no matter how hard Messiah tried, neither could he. She wasn’t naïve to the position Ahmeek was in. They had walked into the gray together, willingly, but when they had made the decision, Messiah hadn’t been a factor. They had taken a leap of faith to trust love, but she knew that if they had known Messiah was alive, neither of them would have ever chosen this path. Now that they had, it was too intoxicating to forget. Drunk off lust, high on love, the addiction was uncontrollable. Was she sorry? It was an absolute truth that she was. She remembered what she’d shared with Messiah. She’d fought the ghosts of those emotions every single day, but those memories were built on lies, and Morgan would do anything to stop herself from falling down the rabbit hole with Messiah again.

She turned out the lights to the dance studio, flung the duffel bag over her shoulder, and walked out. Her heels against concrete and her shadow against the brick wall escorted her across the parking lot.

The red taillights that greeted her when she rounded the corner made her stop walking. Ahmeek leaned against the car.

Her breath hit the air in frosty clouds as she stood there. He didn’t speak. She could see his anger. He was bothered. He hated everything about the situation. He was so angry, but he was still there.

“He almost killed me. Ahmeek. He sucks the air from my lungs and leaves me to die. And you wanted me to hand my babies off to him like it never happened. I couldn’t do that. I just couldn’t. I gave him my heart once before, and the way he tore it apart—” Morgan stopped and shook her head. “Yara and Ssari are living, breathing pieces of me. Of my heart. They are my heart. He doesn’t have a good track record of protecting my heart.”