She turned around and marked him with sad eyes. She reached into her purse and removed his guns, placing them on the stand by the door. “There is a part of me that’s going to always wonder what we could have been, Messiah, but there is also a part of me that will always wonder who I could have been if Mizan had never come into my sister’s life. If my daddy and my mama and Raven were alive, and I had them. When I look at you now, I see him. I don’t know how I didn’t see him in you before. The anger issues, the quick temper. I’ve always been afraid of him, Messiah. I used to be extra good when he was home. Try to be extra nice to him so he wouldn’t get mad and blow up on my sister. He thought I liked him, because I used to pretend to try to keep him in a good mood so he wouldn’t hurt her. I was terrified of him, though, and with you being here, it’s like I’m a little-ass girl again, staring at him, pretending that my heart isn’t in my throat. I’m afraid of you now, Messiah.”

Messiah nodded as his temple throbbed, and he sniffed away his emotion. He was trying his hardest to keep it together. She could see his struggle, but damn if antipathy didn’t stop her from soothing him.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, Morgan,” he said, pained as he caressed her face. She rested her cheek in the palm of his hand, relishing the moment, holding on to it because it was going to pass soon. He never called her Morgan. He barely called her Mo. It was Shorty Doo Wop. Just shorty when he was being lazy. He was serious, dead serious, because this was serious. She was giving herself away to another man.

“That’s the problem, Messiah. I don’t know that at all,” she replied.

“I’m trying to fix shit,” he said, his voice catching. He cleared his throat. “I swear to God, shorty, I’ma make it right. I’ma make up for all my wrongs.”

She shook her head.