Page 149 of Collateral Love
“You good?” I asked quietly.
He dragged his eyes away from the board and looked at me.
“I’m out here,” he said. “That’s more than I let myself picture some days.”
We ordered too much food.
Wings every way, fries, and fried okra. Jared ordered a peach lemonade and a mac with collards.
While we waited for our food, Jared just watched.
He watched people come in and out. He watched them laugh and watched them talk to each other without looking over their shoulders first. He watched a little boy beg his mama for extra ranch.
I saw his fingers twitch, like he wanted to reach out and touch the world just to make sure it was real.
“My first day out,” he said suddenly, eyes still on the window, “I dreamed about driving. Not the beach, not a plane, not a big vacation. Just driving in regular fucking traffic. A red light. A turn signal clicking.”
“You’ll get that,” Chanel said. “We’ll get your license back.”
He smiled faintly. “You gon’ ride with me the first time I hit the freeway?”
She snorted. “Absolutely not. I like living.”
He laughed.
The food came.
He stared at the plate for a second, then picked up a wing like it was holy.
The first bite damn near took him out.
He closed his eyes, head tipping back, a low sound rumbling in his chest.
“Lord,” he groaned. “I miss flavor.”
We all laughed.
Even me.
For a little while, it almost felt like this story might bend toward happy.
Chanel told Dad about everything,and Mom was now living in our war room with her prison mate, Miles.
We dropped Jared at Daddy’s house,
“Your place is too loud,” he said. “Too many stairs. Too many cameras. I need a small for a minute.”
“I can turn the cameras off,” I offered.
He gave me a look. “No, you can’t.”
I smirked. “Okay, I won’t. But?—”
“Kenya,” he said softly. “Let me sit in Daddy’s old recliner and watch the news like I’m seventy-five. Let me take a shower in a tub where the curtain rod doesn't screech. Let me sleep with a door that doesn’t slam itself.”
I swallowed.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “You’re right.”
