Page 18 of All In

“Where?” she asked, chin tilting. “The house in Media,” he replied flatly.

“Why not the Bala Cynwyd house? That’s more my aesthetic.”

“Like I said… Media.” Zambia scoffed. “Cash, that’s far as fuck from everything and everyone.

I wouldn’t mind staying in the condo on the Parkway—at least until we figure out where we want to nest.” His eyes snapped to hers, cold as steel. She rolled her eyes and leaned back. “Fine.”

CHAPTER TEN

JACKIE

Jackie’s phone buzzed on the counter…face down.

She almost ignored it. Unknown numbers were never good news. It was either bill collectors, spam, or worse, Marcus calling from another line just to ruin her day. Still… something about it made her reach for the phone and flip it over.One text. No name saved. Three photos attached.

Unknown Number:Regardless of any beef we got, I’m a mother first.

Thought you would want to see these. You welcome, bitch.P.S. Remove my number. And it should be obvious, you never saw these.—Nefertiti

Jackie opened the message and her breath caught.Marcus Jr. Her baby. Her firstborn. Her reason for everything.He stood tall and clean-cut in his cap and gown against a generic senior-picture backdrop, with a boldClass of 2025 bannerhangingbehind him. He was smiling, but not the big goofy grin she remembered. This one was tight and practiced, like the world had already shown him more than it should have. Jackie knew Nefertiti had sent them behind Marcus’s back. If it were up to him, she never would’ve seen a thing. As messy as shit had been between them over the years, this was a quiet act of mercy.From one mother to another.That’s when it hit her, just how much time had really passed. And how many moments she’dmissed. Jackie wiped at her face, the tears came hot and steady now. A shaky laugh broke through, half anger, half heartbreak. The ache in her chest wasn’t just sadness. It was grief stacked on guilt, heavy and mean.Because somewhere out there, her son was growing into a man, and she was barely catching it in snapshots. Proof that life hadn’t stopped just because she couldn’t be there.

The sob that tore out of her chest was sharp, wet and ugly. It ripped through her so violently her ears rang. The cry that escaped her lungs left her breathless. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it wasuseless.The noise still broke free, echoing through the quiet kitchen. Her knees hit the cold tile as she slid down the cabinets to the floor, pulling her legs in tight. She clutched the phone like she could hold her son through the glass. Her hands shook as she unlocked it again, thumb slipping over the screen until it landed on Kormia’s name. It only rang once. “Hello?” Jackie couldn’t get a word out. The only sound that made it through was a raw, jagged sob. By the time she came up for air, her head was pounding and her whole body felt wrung out. She stayed like that for hours—stuck on the floor, silently sobbing. Kormia didn’t ask questions. Didn’t press. She just stayed on the line, quiet, letting Jackie breathe through it, cry through it, fall apart until her body finally started to slow down. When Jackie’s breathing evened out, Kormia spoke, low and steady, like she’d been waiting for the right moment. “After you pick Max up from school, bring him by the salon. I got some new polishes he can help me sort. That should keep him busy until I finish my last client. Then we can do homework. Don’t worry about dinner—I got that. That way you can stay home, get a nap, light a candle, put one in the air, and relax.” Jackie laughed wetly through her tears, shaking her head.

Kormia always made it sound so casual, like looking out for her wasn’t a big deal.

But it was. “Thanks, Mia.”

“You already know.” When they hung up, Jackie felt a littlesteadier.The devastation was still there, lodged deep inside her heart. But at least she was steady enough to stand again.

That’s when she remembered her first parental breakout session with Dr. Nigel was today. She thought about calling the school, canceling, and crawling back into bed. God knows she was in no mood to talk about shit right now. But she couldn’t. Not when Max still needed her to show up, physically and emotionally. So, whatever she felt in this moment would have to take a back seat.

Jackie wiped her face, peeled herself off the floor, and put on something simple: fatigue cargos, a cropped tee, a chunky knit cardigan, and brown Crocs. The forecast called for light rain, so she wrapped her hair smooth and flat, secured it with duck clips, and tied a silk scarf over it before stepping out. She slid on her dark-tinted aviators to hide the damage the crying had done to her eyes.

She had no idea what to expect from this session. All she knew was that she hadn’t spoken to Dr. Nigel face-to-face since their initial meeting two weeks ago. Apparently, it was his and the school’s recommendation that Max go on a therapeutic behavioral plan—twenty sessions of therapy, two a week for the next ten weeks. The email from Dr. Nigel had been full of therapy jargon and five-dollar words:“utilizing different modalities,” “family engagement,” “targeted behavioral interventions.”There was also a mandatory third breakout session once a week for parental support, resources, and reflection. That made Jackie uncomfortable because it sounded an awful lot like parenting class or worsttalk therapy.

The only highlight of the email was that Dr. Nigel had given her the option to sit in and observe. She appreciated that,because she wasn’t about to let anybody plant shit in her baby’s head, no matter how well-meaning they seemed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JACKIE

Jackie really wished she would’ve smoked before leaving the house.

At least to calm her nerves and settle her mood. Because internally, she was on ahundred.

After the sadness passed, anger stood in its place. Not to mention, she wanted all her wits about her when she told Dr. Nigel to shove that mandatory breakout session up his ass. But it wasn’t just the mandatory session, it was what it represented. Two weeks ago, she’d sat across from this man, and for once, felt seen. He hadn’t talked down to her or treated her like a problem to diagnose.

He’d seemed different.Neutral.Not another suit looking for what waswrongwith her kid or how she was raising him. So, when that email came, it felt like asetup. Like he had lured her into trusting him just to hit her with the same bullshit everybody else did. Jackie was on board with getting Max help, especially since she could see how the separation from his brother was affecting him at school. Butshehadn’t signed up to be placed under a microscope. They weren’t about tobullyher into therapy orpoliceher parenting. Jackiedidn’tneed therapy. What she needed? No one in that school could provide. Today was one of those cold damp autumn days she used to look forward to. Proof that summer was really gone, and the season had officially changed. Jackie stepped outside just as the rain began to fall. Her body still ached from crying so hard.The sobbing drained her physically and spiritually. She tried to center herself with some breathing exercises she’d seen on TikTok. When that didn’t work, she turnedto aux cord therapy, blasting Taylor as loud as she could. Normally, music could calm her nerves when she was on ten. But even Taylor Swift couldn’t help how she felt today. The tears came anyway, hot, and uninvited, slipping down her face like she had no control over them.“Jackie, tighten the fuck up,”she muttered to herself as she rolled the window down and let the rain mist in. Jackie would never admit it. And she would deny it if anyone ever asked. But she was living proof hood bitches could be Swifties too. Only her boys knew about her affinity for Taylor Swift’s catalog, and they never once clowned her for it.Cruel Summerhad been on repeat the entire way to the school, and it was a fitting title for the last few months of her life.

By the time she pulled up to the school, she had locked it all down again. Face set. Shades on. Walls back in place. The moment she opened the door, she saw him.Cash.Leaning against the side of the building in an all-black Amiri Sweatsuit, hood pulled tight, sneakers too clean to be anything but designer. He was mid-laugh, dimples deep, speaking to another brother, head tilted back like the world was funny and light. Their eyes met, and Jackie’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t seen Cash since the night of the wedding, and she was in no mood to see him now. So instead of walking pass him, she adjusted her shades, made a sharp left, and tried to enter the school through the side entrance.

Of course, the shit was locked. So now she had to double back and walk right past him anyway. Cash didn’t move, but his eyes didn’t leave her either. Every step she made felt loud on the wet pavement. Even though all she could hearwas the drum ofher own heartbeat. Jackie walked like she didn’t feel his eyes on her, like she didn’t feel her insides tighten with every step that brought her closer to him.

Cash didn’t say a word. He just watchedstillandsilent. It was in that silence everything around her felt amplified and louder somehow. Therustleof her jacket. Thesquishof wet gravel under her foot. The way her breath caught in her throat the second she got close enough to smell his cologne.

That Creed scent that had no business affecting her the way it still did. “You good?” he asked finally, his voice smooth but edged with something deeper.Concern, maybe. Orsuspicion.

“I’m Gucci,” she said, breezing past him without slowing down. Her voice held, but barely. He turned slightly, tracking her. “That why you been crying?” She froze. Just for a second. Then caught herself, before taking a deep breath, and turned back toward him. “Excuse me?” She said as he stepped off the wall and moved closer, not crowding her, just stepping into her space like he belonged there. His eyes dropped to her face, then to her glasses. “Take them off,” he said softly. “Let me see your eyes.”