Page 38 of All In

“Since when you start baking for niggas?” he continued, quieter now, which made it worse.

“At eleven o’clock on a school night. What, he just pull up whenever now?” Jackie let out a dry laugh, pushing back fromher chair just enough to face him head-on. Her arms were folded across her chest, chin tilted. “You got big fucking nerve,” she said, voice low but sharp, “tryna clock me when you got a whole fiancée out here streaming yall’s love story every day for content?” She shook her head, a humorless smile tugging at her mouth. “And if you’re talkin’ about Dr. Nigel, be very fuckin’ clear—he didn’t just pull up, he showed up.” Her gaze locked onto his. “Helped me with my event. Made sure my son and I were safe while I earned a living.” Cash’s jaw tightened because he didn’t like hearing it framed that way. HeDidn’t like the way she said it,the way she defended that nigga. And most importantly he didn’t like how easy his cousins name came out her mouth.“Because, contrary to popular belief, Cassius… everybody wasn’t born with a silver fuckin’ spoon in their mouth. Some of us don’t get to post fake-ass fairy tales for a living.”

Her voice cooled. “Some of us only eat what we kill.”

Before he could respond, the double doors flew open. “Hubby.” Zambia’s voice floated in—soft, sing-songy, and fake as hell. She glided through the waiting room like she was walking a red carpet, phone in one hand, designer tote in the other. “I don’t have the house keys,” she said, dragging every word like honey before glancing at Jackie. “Also, the Benz is acting weird again. Can I just ride home with you?” Jackie didn’t move, but her expression shifted—cool, then cutting.

“Give me my fuckin’ son,” she said quietly, holding her arms out. Cash hesitated, then eased Max carefully into her arms. She didn’t look at him. “FYI,” she said, loud enough for anyone still awake, “I’ll cook for whoever the fuck I want to.” The quiet that followed hit harder than any argument could. Cash stood there, jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets. He wanted to apologize, maybe even explain, but the words wouldn’t come. He stole one last glance at Jackie before turning to walk away. She didn’t lookback. Just shifted Max in her arms and turned away, disgust written all over her face.

The tension that sat between them, was thick enough to choke on. Cash dragged a hand down his face, pulling himself out of it just in time to hear Zambia clear her throat.

“So… you ready?” He turned his head slow. “For what?”

“To go home.” Her smile was small and practiced. “You said you’d give me a ride, remember?” He didn’t remember agreeing toshit,but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They walked in silence through the private wing. Even with the warm lighting and polished tile, the place still smelled like a hospital—no matter how they dressed it up.

When the elevator doors closed, she spoke again. “What crawled up her ass?”

“Mind your business, Zambia.” His tone was flat. “It was a private conversation.”

She tilted her head, lips curling faintly. “Private?” she echoed, scoffing.

“Cassius, there was nothing private about it. The way you switch up whenever she’s around, is disgusting. You don’t hide it well. For a man who prides himself on control, you’re sloppy as fuck when it comes to her.” He shot her a look, but she didn’t stop. “You don’t talk, you don’t blink, you don’t even breathe the same when she enters a room. It’s like you’re under a spell.”

“Zambia—”

“Did you fuck her?” she asked, voice low and pointed. “Be honest.” He didn’t answer right away, just shot her a look sharp enough to cut. “No,” he said finally, voice tight. “Then what the fuck is it? And don’t insult my intelligence by saying’ “nothing”, because I’m not fucking crazy, Cassius.”

“Zambia, leave me the fuck alone,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, wishing he was anywhere but in this moment with her. “It’s been a long-ass day, and I don’t havethe energy to pretend I give a fuck about what you think.” The elevator dinged when she spoke again.

“Well, whatever it is,” she said lightly, adjusting her tote, “I suggest you dead it. Because it’s gettin’ disrespectful—and I don’t tolerate disrespect. Not from you, or that ghetto bitch you can’t keep your eyes off of.” Cash’s jaw flexed again. He wanted to check her, say something that would make her shut up, but he didn’t. Because she wasn’t wrong.

Truth was, he didn’t even know what the fuck he was mad at anymore, or if he even had the right to be mad in the first place. He’d never been in his feelings like this. He was a man of discipline and logic, not someone led by emotion. But Jackie had him navigating waters he’d never swam in before, and it was all foreign territory, feelings, jealousy, guilt, all of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TW0

JACKIE

Jackie had barely left her bed all week.

It was like the world kept moving, but she couldn’t seem to. Every morning started the same, and with the exception of taking Max to school, cooking, and keeping the house from falling apart, she’d done little else but sleep. The visit with MJ had done a number on her. It did her heart good to see her boy—to touch him, hold him, smell him. But it also broke something in her.

The drive home played in her head every night, like a reel she couldn’t turn off. And at first, she thought she had something. That jersey.Overbrook Panthers.Clear as day. It felt like a sign. Like her baby had left her something to follow. So shesearched.Sitting up in bed with her phone lighting up the dark, typing, scrolling, clicking anything that even looked close. But it was too many results. Too many possibilities. And No real direction. Just a name that led everywhere and nowhere at the same time. And just like that, what felt like hope turned into another dead end.The way he looked at her. The things he said about Marcus. The fear in his voice when he talked about moving.

That was the part she couldn’t shake. Still, there was comfort in knowing he was alive and safe. It helped… but only a little. Luckily, Max had been her saving grace. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when Jackie gave him MJ’s jersey. It swallowed him whole, but he didn’t care—he wore it every day under hisuniform shirt now, said it made him feel close to his big brother. Watching that, seeing how much love still flowed between her boys even from miles apart, eased something heavy in her chest. But the ache was still there. By the following Friday, Jackie was starting to feel like herself again, or close enough. The fog hadn’t completely lifted, but she could breathe without crying. That morning, she decided to do something for herself. Something small. Something that reminded her she was still here. She woke early, stripped her bed, and stripped herself—literally and metaphorically. Cut her sew-in out, washed her hair, and called Bri to slide her in for her signature bust-down side part.

After that, she hit South Street and stopped byThe Naked Pearfor a wax, her first in months. The pain made her hiss through her teeth, but even that felt like release—like she was shedding something old in preparation for something new. She ended the day in Kormia’s chair, letting her cousin shape her nails into perfect stilettos with her signature American French finish. Kormia had been grinning since Jackie sat down. “Oh, so weoutside?” she teased, popping her gum.

“’Cause I was wondering when you was gonna let me bless these hands—and those toes. It was giving Myra offMartinvibes.” Jackie rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Mind your business and fix my cuticles.”

Kormia laughed, loud and dramatic as always.

“Seriously, you look good, Jackie. I’m glad to see you taking care of you again.”

“I’m tryin’,” Jackie said quietly, eyes still on her nails.