Page 94 of Lennox Lane

Lennox looked toward Daryl’s now pale face beneath the sweat shining on his forehead before answering, “He’s handled.”

Daryl’s head jerked up. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Lennox smiled wickedly, keeping his eyes on the dirtbag who’d hurt his lady. “He’ll be in police custody in about three minutes.”

Daryl hopped up, lunging for Lane. Jalen caught him by the back of his shirt and slammed him forward onto the couch arm before he made it a full step. Jeanette screamed, but Lane didn’t. She knew he’d never make it to her before he or Jalen broke his neck. Lennox walked to the window and looked down. Right on time, two unmarked cars pulled into the lot behind the building. A marked patrol unit followed, and Daryl started cursing.

Lennox turned back to Lane. “His car is downstairs with enough product in the trunk and under the back seat to make sure he doesn’t see freedom for a long time. That’s before the other charges.”

Lane’s eyes narrowed. “You planted drugs?”

“No.”

“Lennox.”

“I didn’t plant drugs.” His jaw tightened. “I found out where he kept what he was already moving and made sure the right people knew where to look.”

Daryl thrashed against Jalen’s hold. “You set me up!”

Lennox looked at him then. “No. I turned the lights on,” he shrugged as a hard knock came seconds later, hard enough to rattle the door.

Jalen dragged Daryl to the door. “Time’s up, bitch.”

The next few minutes blurred into motion. Officers with warrants rushed the apartment, tackling Daryl to the ground as they cuffed him and dragged him to the hell he belonged in. Lane was standing near the wall, as if her bones had gone hollow and her pride was the only thing keeping her upright. Lennox didn’t touch her, though he wanted to. He knew Lane needed some space to process.

When the officers took Daryl out, the apartment felt larger and worse. Jeanette sank onto the edge of the chair and sobbed. Lane stood in front of her, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“I wanted to call you,” Jeanette said. “So many times I wanted to tell you I was sorry. I wanted to get clean and come to you right. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Lane’s voice was low. “You had my whole life to come to me. You had years, Jeanette. You were cruel to me my whole life. You looked at me like I was competition or something in your way. You let men come in and out of that apartment, let one of them corner me, then blamed me for it. You let me leave and never came back to look for me,” Lane said as the words cracked on the last part, and Lennox felt it like something had snapped inside him.

Lane kept going. “You didn’t know if I was safe. You didn’t know if I had shelter. You didn’t know if I had food. I was a child, and you didn’t even check whether I was alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeanette whispered.

“I know you are,” Lane shook her head, tears shining now but not falling, “But sorry doesn’t fix it.”

Jeanette reached for her and Lane stepped back, making Jeanette break down all over again. “I want to know you,” she sobbed. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to know my daughter. I want to know the woman you became.”

Lane frowned at the insinuation. “You don’t get to know what you abandoned,” Lane said.

Jeanette bowed her head. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

The room went silent except for Jeanette’s crying and the faint traffic outside. Lane wiped beneath one eye and breathed through whatever wanted to break in her. She looked her mother in the face and spoke her truth, “If you really want to know me,” she said, “you’re going to have to fight for me this time.”

Jeanette lifted her head.

Lane’s chin trembled once before she steadied it. “You’re going to have to show up so much in my life that I can’t ignore the effort. You’re going to call, text, write, send smoke signals. Most importantly, you have to get clean and stay there, Jeanette. Go to meetings and therapy so that you can stop choosing men who hurt you and everybody around you.”

Jeanette nodded quickly. “I will, I promise I will.”

“Don’t promise me, just do it, ” Lane’s voice hardened.

Jeanette pressed a hand to her chest.

“And don’t confuse this with permission,” Lane added. “I’m not ready to know you, forgive you, or let you near my life.”