Page 143 of Collateral Love
Like, Jared’s whole life was just… a meeting they forgot to cancel.
“Your brother’s conviction has been vacated,” the lawyer said over speakerphone, voice smooth like he hadn’t slept just to getus this far. “Charges dismissed. We’ll finalize the paperwork in the morning. He’ll be processed out by noon.”
Vacated.
Dismissed.
Processed.
Pretty words for we stole half his life and now we gon’ hand back what’s left like a doggie bag.
I sat at the kitchen island, elbow on marble, fingers pressed against my forehead. The war room screens were dark for once. No feeds. No plates. No moving red dots. Just a silent house that still smelled faintly like antiseptic from when the nurse changed my bandages.
Zayden stood by the window, arms folded, watching the backyard, as if someone could slide through the grass and steal our kids from the shadows. Xavier leaned against the fridge, thumb tapping his phone screen, eyes sharp on nothing. Chanel paced the length of the room, heels clicking softly on tile, ponytail swinging.
“Vacated,” she repeated, like she was tasting the word. “So that’s it? They say ‘our bad,’ and we’re supposed to be grateful?”
“That is them saying ‘our bad,’” the lawyer said. “In the only language the system speaks.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” I said. “Walk me through tomorrow.”
“We’ll meet at the facility at 11:30,” he replied. “They’ll try to stall, maybe ‘misplace’ a form or two. Don’t react. Don’t threaten. Don’t gloat. Just let me push.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I know the drill.”
Jared had taught me that.
Silence sat heavy for a second.
Chanel stopped pacing. “So… he’s really coming home.”
Her voice cracked. I looked at her. Really looked. Chanel Davis-Hughes, esquire. My baby sister had one foot in theirworld and one still stuck in ours. She walked that line in heels I’d never wished on her.
“Yeah, Baby Bear,” I said softly. “Big bro is coming home.”
Her throat bobbed. She nodded once, too fast, like she was trying to keep her eyes from spilling over.
X pushed off the fridge. “Do you want me there or staying clear?” he asked. “Media gon’ be sniffing.”
“Fuck the media,” Chanel snapped.
Zay finally turned from the window, gaze cutting across all of us.
“I’ll drive,” he said. “You shouldn’t be behind the wheel yet, YaYa.”
My ribs still ached. My shoulder still pulled wrong when I moved too fast. My face had healed that makeup enough could do the rest, but my body still remembered shackles every time I tried to stretch.
“I can drive,” I argued out of habit. “Besides, Camilla will want to see him. We all grew up so close. We’ll roll in. You, me, and Camilla.” I said to Channy.
I couldn’t sleepthat night.
I lay next to Zayden in our bed, his body a solid line of heat at my back, his hand resting on my hip, thumb drawing slow circles against the waistband of my shorts. The house was finally quiet. The twins were at my daddy’s. Security rotations were tighter than ever. Even the ice maker sounded nervous.
“You awake?” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I said.
