Morgan was so deep in her feelings she was drowning. The ceremony was torture. She couldn’t sit still as she waited for her name to be called. She kept turning to look in the crowd, her eyes scanning hundreds of faces, looking for just one. Her heart ached and eyes clouded as she tapped her foot against the concrete floor in angst. Her eyes found Aria, who was seated two rows behind. Her brows knitted in concern as she swiped a tear from her cheek.

“You okay?” Aria mouthed the words as she held up her hands and frowned at Morgan’s distressed face.

Morgan couldn’t breathe. She stood abruptly, interrupting the speaker onstage, and bolted for the door. She caused a slight disruption as people whispered as she ran past them. She burst out of the auditorium doors and raced for her car. She hopped in and peeled off just as Ethic rushed out of the building. Morgan’s tears flowed as she pressed her gas pedal to the floor. She reached to the passenger seat, grabbing her phone, her eyes barely on the road as she tried to unlock it. She went to her favorite contacts. He was still the only number on the list, even after all this time. She had never erased it. She hadn’t used it in years. She hoped the number was the same. She touched his name SSIAH and held the phone to her ear. Voice mail. Morgan drove faster. When she pulled up to his trap house, she saw him. He stood at the back of an SUV, removing boxes that she knew from experience were filled with a load they had just robbed. Same Messiah. Still thugging. Still risking it all … risking even more since she was no longer a factor. She pulled up recklessly behind the truck, blocking it in and throwing her car in park. The men standing beside him turned to her in surprise as she hopped out in her cap and gown.

Messiah stepped up and Morgan ran to him, practically knocking him over as she threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him so deeply, giving him years’ worth of passion. He knocked that square hat off her head as he grabbed her braid and returned the kiss.

“Hmm,” he groaned as she attacked those lips with aggression, aggression she had hidden, aggression he had taught her and that she had locked inside for years. She pulled back, placing her hands on his cheeks as he gripped the side of her face desperately. Their foreheads connected as she cried.

“What are you doing, shorty?” he asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” she answered while stroking his face gently.