“Meek!” He ran across the living room, and Meek reached down to scoop him too. “Her want to go home Meek. Me too!”

Messiah lost his legs, sitting on the futon as Bleu sat with him. Ahmeek’s heart felt like an anchor were chained to it. These were his little people. These were babies he had planned to raise. He wondered if he had connected with them because of their bloodline to Messiah. Had it felt natural because their true heritage belonged to his brother? It was heartbreaking to think he may not be in their lives after this day. It prickled his eyes and tore out his gut. Morgan’s lies, Messiah’s lies, had turned their lives upside down. Or had he done that to himself by getting involved with her in the first place? He had known all along even before Messiah’s return that Morgan was a guilty pleasure.

“It’s a lot of change for them, Messiah,” Bleu said.

“Just take ’em, man. Take ’em back to Mo,” Messiah said. “They don’t want to be here. Fuck it.” The rejection of these two-year-old twins was the worst he had ever felt.

The sight before him tore Ahmeek right down the middle. Mo was pulling on one side, and Messiah was pulling on the other. This triangle of emotion was excruciating. He didn’t even know how he had become the man in the middle. He hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t asked for this. A complicated love for a complicated girl had led him to this moment.

“If you were any other nigga, I would do exactly that, bruh. But you my brother, and I’d be an ain’t-shit nigga to let you miss out on them, man. They’re kinda dope as fuck,” Ahmeek said. “You just got to slow-walk this shit. You got to get to know your kids, and they got to get to know you. My nigga, you got kids. Can you believe that shit?” He scoffed. “This what the late nights was for. What the grind was for. They yours, man. The love they got to give—” He paused and shook his head. “You don’t want to miss out on that, man. I ain’t gon’ let you.” Ahmeek held a calm Yara and a sleepy Messari. “Yo, homie?” Meek directed that last one to Messari, and his head popped up. “I want you to be nice to my man. He loves you. Very much, Ssari. He’s your dad.”

“No, him not. You trick me,” Messari protested.

“Why would I do that? You my potna, right?” Meek asked.

Messiah didn’t even look up. He couldn’t. He just sat there leaned onto his knees in despair as Meek reassured Messari.

“Wight!” Messari agreed.

“So I would never lie to my potna, right?” Ahmeek asked.

Messari glanced down at Messiah and then back at Meek. His little brow furrowed more.