Unhidden

Chapter Seven-Andre

I woke up relieved.

That was the first thing I felt.

Relieved.

Jamal had stayed.

He had actually stayed the entire night.

For once, I didn’t wake up to an empty bed and a cold pillow beside me.

I opened my eyes slowly, still half-asleep, and turned toward him.

And immediately sighed.

Of course.

Jamal was already dressed.

Fully dressed.

Shoes on.

Everything.

I stared at him for a few seconds.

“God.”

I wanted to be annoyed.

I really did.

I wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, why he was already dressed, where he thought he was going, and why he couldn’t just stay another hour.

But I was tired.

Low-key exhausted.

Actually, completely exhausted.

So I couldn’t fight him this morning.

I couldn’t.

“Baby,” I mumbled.

Jamal looked over.

“Hmm?”

“Where you going?”

His expression immediately became cautious.

“Dre, please don’t start.”

I rubbed my face.

“I’m not starting anything.”

“You’re looking at me like you’re about to.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

I sighed.

“Okay. Fine.”

I sat up.

“Come here.”

He hesitated for a second before walking toward me.

I reached for him, pulled him closer, and kissed him.

Slowly.

Softly.

A lingering kiss that said everything I wasn’t going to argue about this morning.

When I pulled away, I looked at him.

“Okay.”

He blinked.

“Okay?”

“Go home.”

His eyebrows lifted.

I smiled.

“Text me when you get home.”

“Dre—”

“And call me later.”

He smiled slightly.

“You’re not angry?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He laughed.

I pulled him into another hug.

“Just go before I change my mind.”

He kissed my cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then he left.

And I stayed there for a few seconds staring at the closed door.

Three times.

I actually started counting.

Three times in three years.

Jamal had spent the night with me only three times.

Two of those times had basically been because he was too tired or hungry to leave.

And yesterday made three.

Three times in three years.

That was insane.

But that was Jamal.

And somehow, I still loved him more than I could explain.

I eventually got out of bed and started getting ready for my early shift.

By the time I reached the fire station, I was already feeling the exhaustion settling into my bones.

And the station was busy.

Very busy.

Calls coming in.

People moving around.

Equipment being checked.

Phones ringing.

The usual chaos.

I walked through the station, grabbed my coffee, and barely made it halfway across the room before Marcus looked up.

He stared at me.

Then stared again.

“What?”

Marcus narrowed his eyes.

“You look different.”

I frowned.

“Marcus, I’m tired.”

“No.”

He pointed at me.

“You look different.”

“I literally just told you I’m tired.”

“Exactly.”

He walked closer.

“You look tired, but you don’t look miserable.”

I gave him a look.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You looked miserable a few days ago.”

“I was tired.”

“You were miserable.”

“I was missing someone.”

Marcus grinned.

“Exactly.”

I rolled my eyes.

He laughed.

“So…”

“So what?”

“Your boyfriend came back?”

I looked away.

Marcus immediately smiled wider.

“Ah.”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re about to.”

“You look less miserable than you did fourteen days ago.”

I looked at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

I sighed.

That was the thing about Jamal.

That was the power he had over me.

Even when I was angry with him.

Even when he frustrated me.

Even when he drove me completely insane.

A few hours with him could make everything feel lighter.

Just seeing him.

Touching him.

Hearing him laugh.

Having him beside me.

It gave me this ridiculous sense of relief.

And then he would leave.

And the emptiness would come back.

That was the difficult part.

Loving Jamal was difficult.

I couldn’t lie about that.

It had been difficult for three years.

Three years of loving someone who loved me back but couldn’t completely give himself to me.

Three years of stolen time.

Three years of waiting.

Three years of watching him leave.

I took a sip of my coffee.

Marcus looked at me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

I looked down at my phone.

Nothing.

Then I smiled despite myself.

Marcus caught it.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“That smile.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed.

I shook my head.

Jamal had no idea how much control he had over me.

Or maybe he did.

Actually…

He absolutely did.

Later that afternoon, my phone finally buzzed.

Jamal.

I opened the message.

And immediately realized it wasn’t a normal text.

It was long.

Very long.

I stared at the screen.

Then started reading.

He apologized.

He told me he was sorry.

He said he knew he had hurt me.

He said he didn’t want me to think he didn’t care.

He said he missed me.

He said he knew fourteen days was too long.

He said he hated making me feel like I wasn’t important.

I read the entire thing twice.

Then I simply typed:

I’m fine.

Three seconds later:

Dre, you sure?

I smiled.

Yeah. I’m sure.

Another message.

But Dre, you’re not responding.

I frowned.

Then another appeared.

Am I not your baby anymore?

I dropped my head into my hands.

“Jesus Christ.”

Marcus looked over.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You look stressed.”

I stared at my phone.

Jamal knew exactly what he was doing.

He knew how to get under my skin.

He knew exactly which buttons to push.

And somehow, he could turn me from an irritated man into a completely helpless boyfriend with one sentence.

I typed.

Yeah, you’re my baby.

His response came almost immediately.

Really?

I smiled.

Yeah. You’re my baby.

Another message.

Promise?

I shook my head.

This man.

I typed:

Yes, Jamal. You’re my baby.

Then I added:

But sometimes you gotta act right, okay?

He didn’t answer immediately.

I stared at the screen.

Then:

I do act right.

I laughed.

No, you don’t.

I stayed last night.

I paused.

He had a point.

I smiled.

And I appreciated it.

Really?

Really.

A few seconds passed.

Then I acted right?

I laughed again.

Sometimes.

His response:

That’s not fair.

I leaned back in my chair.

God.

This man.

I typed one last message.

You need to act right, baby. Sometimes you really need to.

His reply came quickly.

I’ll try.

I stared at those two words.

I’ll try.

It wasn’t a promise that everything would suddenly change.

It wasn’t a declaration that he was ready to tell his family.

It wasn’t an answer to all the questions sitting between us.

But it was something.

And maybe, for today, I could accept something.

I put my phone down.

Marcus glanced at me.

“You’re smiling again.”

I looked at him.

“Shut up.”

He laughed.

I couldn’t help smiling.

Because for all the frustration, all the waiting, all the nights I wondered whether loving Jamal was worth the pain—

I still loved him.

And when he called me his baby, somehow, stupidly, ridiculously, it still made everything feel a little better.

For a few hours, at least.

And maybe that was the problem.

Or maybe that was the reason I kept holding on.

Because whenever Jamal was with me, even for a little while, I remembered exactly why I couldn’t let him go.