“Nah,” Messiah answered. “Next problem.”

The laugh that fell from Bleu’s lips made Messiah smirk as he rose slightly to pull the ottoman closer to the couch.

“Just like that, huh?” Bleu asked. “I shouldn’t even consider it?”

“You can’t consider it. I said no. Now what else keeping you up?” Messiah asked.

Bleu didn’t respond right away. She just looked at Messiah. Never the one to back down, the stare down was returned. Bleu looked away first. She wasn’t sure if Messiah always won their battles because she let him or because he was simply in charge, but either way, she yielded.

“This woman who’s fighting for her daughter is a recovering addict,” Bleu said. “It just reminds me of myself. This could have easily been me, Messiah. They’re trying to take her kid forever, and I’m rooting for her, but what if she gets her baby back and she goes back to getting high? Any little thing can make an addict backslide, Messiah. What happens to her kid if she messes up? What happens to Saviour if I mess up?” she whispered the last part. This wasn’t about the case. It was about her life, about the things that were at stake for her.

“And that’s why you want to move?” Messiah asked. “Because you want him close to Iman in case you start using again?”

Bleu didn’t answer, but she lowered her head as tears filled her eyes. She didn’t let one fall. “I’m not saying I will. I don’t want to, but it’s certain shit that terrifies me, Messiah. Like sometimes it’s the smallest thing that triggers me. Like when I turn on the stove to cook. There’s this sparking sound, this click that reminds me of the sound the lighter would make when…” Bleu’s voice disconnected, breaking up as her lip trembled. She looked at him with so much angst. “It’s just not as easy as it looks, Messiah.”

Messiah nodded. “I believe that, B,” he said. “That it’s hard as fuck. What you need from me to make sure that don’t happen?”

She nodded. “Nothing. Nobody can carry this but me,” she said.

“And apparently Iman,” Messiah said. “He’s a good nigga, B. No lie. I fuck with Iman. I know the nigga love you. He’s a good father to Saviour. He do his job, B, but Cali? I ain’t with that shit, man.”

“I don’t really need permission, Messiah,” she answered.

“The hell you don’t,” Messiah uttered. He frowned, and he cracked the knuckles on his big hands then stood. He didn’t know what to do with this energy she was giving. “You trying to make it work with him, B? Or this just about Saviour?” he asked.