Page 39 of Mia

“Are they active?” I asked quietly.

“He’s treating me like his personal trampoline.”

“It’s a boy?”

She smiled softly. “Little Stanley Quaid Dillinger-Michaels.”

“You would name him after your bald-headed daddy.”

She giggled. “You know I love that man real bad.”

“I know. Is he excited about that?”

“He doesn’t know yet. I’m gonna let it be a surprise. More things to make him cry.”

I looked down at her stomach again. I wanted to touch it, but I knew I would break down again if I did. I was so tired of crying.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jaeda said, seemingly reading my thoughts.

That’s when I noticed my hand was hovering over her stomach. I snatched it back and turned away from her, resting on my other side.

“I’m sorry, Jae. I don’t want you to think⁠—”

“I don’t think anything, Mia. Take your time, however long it takes.”

She nuzzled into my back and wrapped her arms around me. She started singing “Count On Me” by Whitney Houston, and her voice was so soothing. Most people didn’t know that Jaeda could sing. There were many nights after fighting with Titan that I would come crawl in her bed and she would sing me to sleep. My eyes were getting heavy when the door opened wider.

I looked back to see my Romi, Salima, and Shar standing there, teary-eyed. They looked like they were just waiting for the okay to join us on the bed. I missed them. It had been the five of us for so long. While I spoke with my brothers at least once a week, they were the ones who checked in on me every single day that I was away. I got weekly pictures and FaceTime calls with the kids.

When I wasn’t busy for girls’ night, I’d be right on a video call watching a movie or eating with them. The time difference didn’t matter. We made it work, even if it meant me being up at ungodly hours to be a part of the sister circle. These women were my people.

I motioned for them to come into the room, and they didn’t hesitate to fill the king-sized bed. If anybody walked by, I was sure they would laugh at how we were sandwiched in here, but I didn’t care. There was so much love in this room at the moment.

Nobody forced me to talk.

They didn’t say a word.

They were just here with me and, more than anything, that’s what I needed.

It had been three days since my baby’s funeral and I’d finally been summoned by Mr. James. By summoned, I meant two of his security guards showed up at my front door. The niggas didn’t have to say a word. I knew what time it was. I simply laced up my sneakers, put up my locs, and went with them.

This would be the second time I was geared for confrontation. The Dillinger brothers gave me the courtesy of waiting until yesterday to have a conversation about everything.

I was in my loft drowning my pain in weed and alcohol when there was a knock on my door. I got up to answer it and found them on the other side.

For a moment, I just stared at them. “Y’all here to square up?” I asked, noting the looks on their faces.

“It can go there,” Deuce said, walking past me into the loft.

The rest of them followed him into the living room. I shook my head and closed the door. When I entered the living room, I noticed Deuce and Smoke had their guns out. Maceo and Kerrion stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of them. I stared at them for a moment before grabbing my half empty liquor bottle and turning it up to polish it off. Then I grabbed my blunt and lit it before taking a seat on the couch.

“If you are gonna shoot me, have at it,” I mumbled.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” Deuce said, raising his pistol.

I shrugged. “Ain’t none and I’m not about to fight with y’all muthafuckas. If you gon’ send me to be with my baby, go on.”

I knew I was feeling the weight of the guilt, because a nigga could never pull a gun on me, and I say some shit like that. Deuce stared at me, a deep frown on his face. After a few seconds, he holstered his gun and Smoke did the same.