Burn for You (Slow Burn Book 1)(26)

Only I had, which was pathetic. Trace was the last man I’d had sex with, and he knew what he was doing in bed. I wasn’t sure if my lack of attraction to anyone since was due to how badly he broke my heart or a terrible suspicion that no other man would be able to make me scream the way he had.

Either way, my dry spell had gone on so long the inside of my vagina probably looked like one of those old Western ghost towns, all tumbleweeds and abandoned buildings, mean-looking vultures picking over dried-up bones.

“Sweatpants!” exclaimed Eeny. She made a clucking sound, like a hen. “Lawd, what a waste. That’s like hangin’ curtains on the statue of David.”

Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t disagree. Trace might be all kinds of wrong, but I’d never seen another man as beautiful.

If only the inside matched the outside. But, as Mama always told me, beauty is as beauty does. Some of the prettiest faces hide the meanest hearts, and smooth talk is no substitute for good character. The only way to judge a person is by his deeds.

Like caring for a special needs child who isn’t your own, I thought pensively.

Then I pushed the thought aside and got to work.



Three days later I was sitting in a hospital room that smelled like antiseptic and desperation, holding my mother’s hand as poisonous chemicals dripped into her veins from a clear plastic bag elevated on a metal pole.

My mother treated the whole thing like it was an outing in the park, chatting with the nurses, flirting with the doctor, reading gossip rags, and laughing.

I, on the other hand, was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Mama was being filled with poison!

Cancer-killing poison, but poison nonetheless.

“Buck up, child, you look like you’re at a funeral!” Mama scolded, smacking me on the arm with a rolled-up magazine.

“I’m sorry.” I sniffled and sat up straighter in my chair. “You’re right. What can I do for you? Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Something else to read?”

A male nurse came over, silently checked the catheter inserted into Mama’s arm, then nodded and left. Watching him go, Mama muttered, “Hoo! There’s my snack right there. You think he likes older women?”

I had to laugh. “I think those chemicals are going to your head.”

She pretended to be offended. “Are you saying you don’t think I could hit that?”

I grimaced. “Hit that? Are you a rapper now?”

Mama went all practical. “If I were, I’d want to be Jay Z. Married to Beyoncé, can you imagine? That boy has no idea how lucky he is!” She tapped me on the arm with her gossip rag. “And if he doesn’t watch out, Kanye West is gonna get all up in there and steal his woman.”

I blinked at her. “I’d ask if you’ve been drinking, but I’m afraid of the answer.”

“Speaking of drinking,” she said, watching me from under her lashes like she does when she has something scandalous to reveal, “I got a real interesting phone call the other day.”

“Oh?” I said, watching an old man with a walker shuffle by the door. His blue hospital gown was open in the back, exposing his wrinkled, white butt. I looked away, embarrassed for him.

Lord, hospitals were depressing.

“Mmm-hmm,” said Mama. “From Trace.”

My head snapped around so fast it almost flew clear off my neck. “Trace! You’re joking!”

“I’m serious as a car crash, chère.” She pursed her lips, tilting her head to look more closely at me. “Why didn’t you mention you saw him?”

“Because I was trying to forget, obviously,” I grumbled. “And what business did he have calling you? The nerve!”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I gave him a good piece of my mind.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Funny, he agreed with everything I said about him. And then he apologized.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, Mama, you know better than to listen to that snake oil salesman. You should’ve hung up the second you recognized his voice.”

“I did,” she said, nodding. “Until he called me back and told me that losing you was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.”

“Gag,” I said.

“And that he’d do anything to get you back.”

“Oh, for the love of God.”

“Which was his other point.”

I glared at Mama. “Please don’t tell me you believe his whole ‘I’ve been saved by Jesus’ spiel!”

She looked at me for a long time, not saying a word. Then she lifted a shoulder. “For some people, hitting rock bottom is the only way they can start a new journey toward the top.”