“Please come home.” Jackie’s heart ached, but she forced a small smile.
“That’s the plan.” Then she opened the door, stepped into the dark, and didn’t look back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JACKIE
Jackie was driving for what felt like hours.
She didn’t turn the radio on. Didn’t check her mirrors. Didn’t even bother to disable the seatbelt sensor. She just drove, until the only thing between her and the obscure destination Marcus sent was highway. When she pulled off her block, the city was asleep. For several blocks, hers was the only car on the road before the streets gave way to the expressway. Her hands stayed locked on the steering wheel, knuckles pale from the pressure. The air outside was thick with fog, and the hum of the tires filled the silence she couldn’t bear to break. Her phone sat face-down on the passenger seat. The screen had gone dark again, but the coordinates were burned into her mind. Jackie had been on I-95 South for almost two hours now, crossing three state lines without realizing it. Somewhere past Maryland, the skyline had vanished, and the road had turned lonely. If her adrenaline hadn’t been pumping, she might’ve been scared. But fear had become background noise a long time ago. She told herself she wasn’t doing this for Marcus.I’m doing this for MJ.That was the only truth that mattered. Her body was on autopilot, but her mind played memories like a cruel film reel. MJ at five, clutching his Spider-Man backpack. MJ at ten, waving from the bleachers, grin a mile long. MJ at fifteen, stepping between her and Marcus.
Every time Marcus reached for her, MJ found a way to interrupt. Playful, but intentional. Always reading the room before it exploded. Jackie wiped a tear from her cheek, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of highway. She wanted to hate Marcus but hate felt too small. What she felt was exhaustion. Bone-deep exhaustion that had seeped into her spirit. Headlights cut through the fog up ahead, sharp and blinding. A shiver crawled down her spine as the GPS chimed softly. “You’ve arrived.”
Her hands were trembling before she even noticed. The road curved into an abandoned truck stop. No signs, no lights, just gravel and the faint glow of high beams in the distance. Jackie threw the car in park and stepped out slowly, hands half-raised in front of her face. The air smelled like diesel and cold metal. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. “Marcus?” she called out. Silence. Then, a door creaked open. “’Bout time,” came his voice, lazy and low. “Was startin’ to think you ain’t care about your son no more.” Her eyes strained against the glare until his shape came into view. Lean, familiar, leaning against the front of a truck with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. Jackie’s stomach knotted as Marcus flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. “You look confused,” he said, smirking. “Don’t be. You know I don’t move without a reason.” She swallowed hard, her voice shaking despite her effort. “Then say whatever you dragged me out here for. What do you want?”
He took a step closer, eyes glinting under the headlights. “What do I want?” He laughed under his breath. “See, that’s where you got it fucked up, baby. You always think this about you.” She clenched her jaw and said nothing. He circled her slowly, like a lion sizing up prey.
“You still don’t get it yet, huh? Only reason you out here is ‘cause I felt generous tonight.”
Her chest tightened. “Generous?” He smiled, sharp and humorless.
“Yeah. ‘Cause my son, my fucking son, got a birthday today. Big seventeen. And you know what he said when I asked him what he wanted?” Jackie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Marcus’s grin widened, cruel and deliberate. “He said he wanted to see his raggedy, hoodrat, disloyal-ass mother.” The words landed like a slap. Jackie flinched but stood her ground. Marcus tilted his head, eyes cold. “And because I’m such a good father, I made it happen. Right, son?” He turned toward the truck and motioned with his hand. For a split second, nothing. Then the passenger door cracked open. And there he was. MJ. Taller than she remembered. His hair different from the cap-and-gown picture. Mini starter locs now. A faint mustache coming in. Seventeen years old. But still her baby boy.
The second she saw him, the world narrowed to a single pulse. “Ma!” he shouted, already running. Jackie barely had time to brace herself before he crashed into her, arms locked tight around her neck. The force lifted her off her feet, and she stumbled, clutching him like she could make up for every missed birthday in one hug. Her knees buckled. A sob tore out of her before she could stop it.
“Baby…” Her voice broke. “Look at you,” she gasped, cupping his face, her fingers trembling.
“You so big now. You look just like—”
“Like you,” he finished, his voice muffled against her neck. “I look like you.”
For that moment, Jackie didn’t care about the headlights, or Marcus’s stare, or the fact that this reunion was on borrowed time. Her son was in her arms. And for the first time in over two years, she could breathe. Marcus took one last drag from his cigarette, watching them like a scene he’d already seen. Smoke curled around his smirk. “Go ahead, lil’ nigga,” he said finally, flicking the butt to the gravel. “You got seventeen minutes with your momma. Make ’em count.” His tone was smooth, almostcasual, but every word dripped cruelty. He pushed off the hood, pacing slowly before speaking again.
“I offered this lil’ nigga a Range Rover and an investment property for his birthday,” he said, almost to himself. “And you know what he told me? That all he wanted was a hug from his triflin’-ass mother.” Jackie froze, clutching her son tighter. Marcus laughed, low and ugly. “You believe that shit? I give my son the world, and still all he want is you.” He spat on the gravel. “An ungrateful, lying ass bitch. A woman who wouldn’t know loyalty if it slapped her in the fucking face.”
“Stop,” MJ said sharply. Marcus’s eyes slid toward him. “What you say?”
“I said stop talking to her like that.” Jackie’s heart twisted.
“Baby, it’s fine,” she whispered, gripping his arm. “Don’t—”
“Nah, let him talk,” Marcus cut in, stepping closer.
“You feelin’ grown now, huh?” MJ squared his shoulders. “I ain’t feelin’ nothin.’ I just don’t like you talkin’ to her like that.” Marcus smirked. “You get that defiant shit from her. She used to talk slick too, ’til I disciplined that out of her. Right, Jackie?” He laughed.
“Is that what I gotta do to you too, son?”
Jackie’s pulse pounded. “Marcus, please. Let him be. You made your point.”
“My point?” Marcus laughed. “Sweetheart, my point lives with me. Eats my food. Wears my name.” He took a drag, exhaled. “And now he’s showin’ off for the reason we stuck in this bullshit town in East bubble-fuck in the first place.” He dropped the cigarette. “I should cut this little visit short since he wanna pipe up.” Jackie leaned close to MJ, her voice trembling. “Baby, please. Let him have this. I’m fine.” She forced the words out. “MJ don’t disrespect your father. He didn’t have to do this.” Marcus stared at her, then smirked. “Thirteen minutes.” Jackie’s body went still. She could hear gravel crunch under Marcus’sboots as he walked away, muttering into his phone, leaving them a few feet of space, but not privacy.Never privacy.MJ didn’t let go. His arms stayed tight around her, his chest rising and falling against hers. Seventeen now, taller than her, stronger too—but the way he held on felt the same as when he was her baby boy He leaned down, voice low. “You okay?” She nodded, even though her throat burned. “Yeah, baby. I’m fine.” He pulled back just enough to see her face, eyes glassy.
“You not,” he said softly.
“I can tell.” Jackie smiled through it, brushing his hair from his forehead.
“You got taller,” she said, trying to sound light, though her voice cracked. He gave a quiet laugh.
“Yeah. Coach said I gotta bulk up more before next season.”