Page 89 of Heated (Burned, Inc.)
“I’ll give you that you trusted Zora more than you do most people you meet. But, Cyrus, don’t kid yourself. You were only willing to give her so much of yourself. As long as she remained in the box you carved out for her and didn’t interfere with that damn plan of yours, you were willing to give her that trust. As long as you could remain in control. But she threatened both, didn’t she? You were already discovering you couldn’t fit Zora in your five-year plan. That she was screwing with it. So whether Val showed up or not, whether you discovered Zora’s secret or not, you were going to do just what you did—find a reason to cut bait and run.”
I stare at Jordan, robbed of speech. My very body wants to reject his words. A dense silence falls between us, but inside my head? It’s a cacophonous circus of thoughts, objections, and screams. I can’t evenhear my heartbeat underneath the noise, although I’m sure it’s there. I’m still standing, still breathing, after all.
“Which one of you two is Cyrus Hart?”
Both Jordan and I whip around toward the staircase that leads to the upper level. A tall wide-shouldered Black man dressed in a slim-fitting black wool suit stands at the foot of the stairs. Even though he is a stranger—although he seems familiar—he doesn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable about being in my house. Uninvited.
“Who the hell are you?” I growl.
He arches both of his eyebrows, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his dress pants. “I’m going to assume you’re Cyrus, then. Good.” He glances at Jordan. “No offense. But if I have to kick someone’s ass, I know I can’t take you. You’re a goddamn giant. I have a fighting chance with him.” He jerks his head toward me.
I pull my phone from my pocket. “I’m calling the police now.”
“Yes, do that.” He waves a hand toward me. “When I drove over here, I was prepared to go to jail for my sister.” A smile slowly spreads across his face, and it’s unnerving as hell. “I’m looking forward to the why.”
My sister.
Holy shit.
“Levi?” I hesitantly ask.
He nods.
Jordan strides forward, his hand extended. “Hey, bruh. It’s good to finally meet you. Miriam talks about you all the time. Jordan Ransom.”
Levi shakes Jordan’s hand, scanning him up and down. “Are you and Miriam sleeping together? Or am I supposed to pretend not to know about it?”
“Nah, we’re just friends.”
Levi snorts. “Okay.” He returns his attention to me. “You really should lock your front door. I was expecting having to either push orcon my way in, but walking right in? That must be rich-white-people shit, huh?”
Jordan snickers, and the deadpan delivery of that has me choking back a laugh too.
“No, just questionable choice in friends.”
“Low blow, man,” Jordan mumbles.
“Well, as nice as this is,” Levi says—and if not for my imminent ass beating that I glimpse in his gaze, I might actually like him—“I have some words for you before I fuck you up for making my sister cry.”
“Ooh, Levi, bruh,” Jordan pseudo whispers. “Never tell the other guy that he made a woman cry. Breaks the sister-brother code.”
Levi looks at Jordan and in all seriousness says, “There’s no manual to this shit. There really needs to be.”
Jordan shrugs. “I have tons of female cousins. I know these things.”
Turning back to me, Levi crosses his arms. “Ignore that part about the crying. But getting back to what I have to say ... Zora fucked up. She knows she did. And she’s beating herself up over it. She’s willing to step back from you and sacrifice her own happiness; that’s how much she cares about you and is willing to make this right. Which you’d know if you’d read the damn email.” His lips curl in a derisive smile. “Yeah, I heard that part. But as much as she messed up, so did all of us. And I do meanallof us. We failed her. I didn’t stand in the gap for her with our parents. Miriam has allowed Zora to protect her for too long. You didn’t offer her a safe space to be honest. And you can come up with as many reasons as you want to vilify her, but you didn’t provide that for Zora. Own it, just as I’m owning my shit. If you care for her even a little bit, love her, then you’ll decide that forgiving her and loving her is more important than being mad and alone. Now.” He slides out of his suit jacket, almost lovingly folds it, and lays it over the arm of a chair. “Let’s get this over with.”
Oh yeah, I definitely like him.
I snag open the refrigerator door and pull out another beer. And hold it out to him.
“Would you like a beer first?”
Levi stares at the beer, and if possible, his lips curl into a deeper sneer.
“Please. Do you have Macallan?”
“Of course.”
