It was an order. Her tone let him know it wasn’t optional. Messiah’s lips lifted on one side, a smirk … a disbelieving smirk. Nobody had ever relieved him of his pistol. Not even the police. Morgan fucking Atkins had disarmed him merely with words. He removed it and handed it to her. She removed the clip and checked the chamber, putting the ammunition in her bag, then handed it back to him, empty. He had taught her that. Apparently, he had taught her well. He remembered the days she had been terrified to handle a gun.

Messiah scoffed, then led the way into the hotel. They were silent until they entered the room. He went to the bed and sat on it as she stayed near the door.

“I ain’t gon’ bite you, Mo,” he said.

“Are you sure, Messiah?” she asked. “I barely know you.”

“Nah, everybody outside these four walls barely knows me. You know, Mo,” he said. “What you doing here? You pulled up on a nigga. What you want, shorty?”

“I don’t know,” she said, breathless, eyes prickling, as she rustled her hair and turned toward the door. She reached for the handle.

“Let go of the door and bring yo’ ass over here,” Messiah said.

Morgan’s hand froze, and she closed her eyes. She turned and leaned her back against the door. “Don’t tell me what to do. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen me, so I know you don’t know, but nobody tells me what to do.”

“You let that fucking door go, didn’t you?” he baited. “Now bring that shit over here so I can finish eating.”

Morgan’s feet had a mind of their own, and she crossed the room. She stood between his legs, and shaky hands reached for the top of his head as he unzipped the graduation gown. The dress beneath hugged her curves as if it were molded to her frame. She was so damn nervous. Everything was heightened, her senses on alert because this was new for them, reconnection over anger, over resentment … none of that had existed before between them, but it crowded the space between them now. Still, this moment was inevitable. He had been home too long without this happening. Flashes of what they used to be to each other caused her eyes to prickle. They would spend hours stuck between four walls with each other as the itinerary for entertainment. Trapped in a bubble. Their love had grown without sunlight, without water … like the plants that grew between the cracks of urban concrete. They had been resilient until a terrible storm had destroyed them.