Page 96 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

“Present tense–I love you, Coach. I know that’s what you wanted to ask, and yes, I love you. You don’t come out of the shit we’ve endured and not love the person you endured it with, but even still, you need to know I love you, and I always will. But you also know that we both should have listened to Grime and never tried to creep… did you–”

“Duh, cuz. Of course I love you. Hell yeah I care about you.” Cochise takes a step forward and engulfs me in his arms.

I’ll miss this. He always curled himself over me whenever I needed a hug. But the feelings bubbling up make it that much more clear we cannot be anything more than labelmates.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, Wyn. You don’t know how scared I’d be, that one day you’d OD. You came back from the dead just to keep killing yourself. But you did it. And I need you to know that from a distance, I’ma forever be rooting for you.”

“Thank you,” I hiccup, squeezing him tighter. “Thank you for never giving up on me, Coach. Thank you for holding onto me. Thank you so much for trying to be my everything. Your fianceé is a lucky woman.”

We separate, waiting until the last moment to break contact.

We’re still mirroring watery smiles when Red bursts through the door, holding a phone.

“Ay, cuz, y’all not gonna believe who the fuck is in the stu wit’ me! My twin, fasho, Wynter Snow.” He takes big steps, and I hurry and wipe my face before I’m in the camera.

Cochise scoffs and pushes him hard, leaving the phone in my hand.

With one blink, Wyn takes the back seat to Wynter Snow. “Wassup, y’all. Ay, you hearing it here first; I’m back, and there will be a comeback show this week in my city. Follow my IG, ‘cause I’ma post more info on there.”

Red’s recovered by the time I hand his phone back to him.

“And don’t trip; I’ma be in that muthafucka–”

Trippy snatches the phone and ends the Live before scowling. “You are one dumb-ass nigga, cuz. Gotta get that shit from ya mama side fasho.”

“The fuck you say about my mama, cuz?!” Red pulls up his pants to square up. I back up all the way to the wall, next to a smirking Shad.

“Are they always like this?” I whisper to him, as Red and Trippy yell in each other’s faces while Sheisty tries to separate them.

“Every time I’m here, they get into it at least twice. Red do some stupid shit, then Tripp says some shit about his mama.”

Trippy reaches over Sheisty and palms Red’s head, shaking him. Sheisty gets out the way, and Red digs his fingernails into Tripp’s wrists, making him howl.

“You big muthafucka! Get off me!”

“You worth more dead than alive. Hold still so I can snap ya neck.”

“Let the lil’ nigga go, Tripp,” Grime chuckles. He glances at me, his smile brightening. “Yo fuckin’ ass. I ain’t even realize you kicking your habits meant I can’t even smoke around you no more. I’ll be in my office.”

“Grime, you don’t have to–”

“Nah, he does,” Shad interrupts me. “Niggas not smoking nor drinking around you, period. So if these potheads gotta excuse themselves every five minutes, that’s what the fuck they doing.”

“Yup. It ain’t shit, really. I’ll be back when it’s some actual work going on.”

Grime and Coach dap up Shad, before leaving. Sheisty finally gets the brothers separated and in the farthest corners from each other.

“Y’all ready to work?” Shad chuckles, going over to the computer screens with Tripp. I stroll over to Red, who is mumbling to himself, scrolling on his phone.

“You know, I have a twin already. She’s not a ginger like us, though.” I take the other seat on the couch and snatch his phone from him.

Red kisses his teeth. His locs cover his face, but even I can tell from his side profile that he’s a cutie patootie. Strong jawline, broad nose, thick brows, even if the sandy hair nearly blends into his skin.

I move his locs out of his face, and peep the GPE tattooed on his hairline.

“What’s that mean?”

Red grins as he leans away from me. “Some Eastsida shit. I gotta get it removed.”