Page 7 of Buy Back My Love

He bent down and picked it up. “This everything?”

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

JB stared at the bag for a second before shaking his head. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Home.

I didn’t know what that word meant anymore, but I followed him to the truck anyway.

JB hit something on his key fob, and the truck lights flashed.

“Get in.”

I opened the passenger door and just stood there for a second. The truck had black leather seats, a big screen glowing in the middle of the dashboard, and more buttons than I knew what to do with. I couldn’t even find a regular gearshift where one was supposed to be.

I looked over at him. “What kind of spaceship is this?”

He laughed as he rounded the hood toward the driver’s side. “You like it?”

“I don’t know yet.” I ran my hand along the door panel like it might bite me. “It look like it might drive itself.”

“It almost can.”

I frowned. “I hope it’s safe.”

I climbed in carefully, trying not to touch anything I wasn’t supposed to. The seat slid forward on its own, and I jumped so hard JB started laughing before he even made it around to his side.

“Stop laughing at me!”

“I ain’t laughing at you,” he said, even though he clearly was.

I cut my eyes at him when he climbed behind the wheel. “Ain’t nobody else in this truck but me and you and I don’t see a damn thing funny.”

His grin didn’t move. I shook my head and looked back at the dashboard. Cars had changed while I was gone. Everything had.

He must’ve saw the attitude on my face because he reached over and grabbed my hand. “Fix your face. I’m just fucking with you.”

I tried to hold on to my attitude, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me.

“There she go.”

Before I could say anything smart, JB leaned across the center console and kissed me again. This one was slower, softer.

When he pulled back, he stayed close for a second. “Been waiting on this a long time, Lee.”

“So have I.”

JB finally started the truck, but before he pulled off, he reached over and squeezed my hand. “What you wanna eat?”

I’d thought about that question for years. Women spent entire nights talking about their first meal after release. We’d argue over steak, fried chicken, seafood boils, and all the places we were hitting the minute we walked out those gates.

My answer came without hesitation. “Breakfast.”

JB glanced over at me. “Breakfast?”

“A real one. I want crispy bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese, cheese grits, and a stack of pancakes drenched in syrup.”

He laughed. “Damn.”