Unhidden

Chapter Seventeen-Andre

I thought we were going to be okay.

That was the stupidest part.

After everything that happened at the warehouse, after the cameras, after Malik had pulled Jamal away from me like I was some stranger who had no right to touch him, after I had stood there watching the car disappear—

I still believed we were going to be okay.

Because Jamal had called me that night.

He had cried.

He had apologized.

He had told me he loved me.

And I had told him I loved him too.

I had gone to bed believing that maybe, finally, something had changed.

Maybe this was the moment Jamal would realize he couldn’t keep running forever.

Maybe this was the moment he would finally choose us.

I woke up the next morning thinking about his voice.

I don’t want to lose you.

Then don’t.

Those were the last real words we had exchanged.

I thought they meant something.

I thought they meant we were going to fight for this.

Then I picked up my phone.

And everything came crashing down.

There was a press release.

Not from some random blog.

Not from some gossip page.

From the Carter family.

My heart sank before I even opened it.

I read the first paragraph.

Then the second.

Then the third.

And I felt my stomach twist.

They denied everything.

They said Jamal had no relationship with me.

They said the incident had been misunderstood.

They said Jamal did not know me personally.

They said there had been no inappropriate relationship between Jamal Carter and any firefighter.

They said the footage had been taken out of context.

Out of context.

I stared at those words for so long that they stopped looking like words.

Then I saw the video.

My hands actually started shaking.

Jamal was sitting there.

Perfectly dressed.

Calm.

Composed.

His family’s statement probably beside him.

And he was speaking.

He was debunking everything.

He was telling the world that he didn’t know me.

That whatever happened at the warehouse had been a misunderstanding.

That the firefighter had simply reacted emotionally after the rescue.

That there was no relationship.

No personal connection.

Nothing.

Nothing.

I watched it once.

Then again.

Then I threw my phone onto the bed.

“God.”

I sat there staring at the wall.

That was what hurt.

Not the suspension.

Not even the press release.

It was Jamal.

The way he spoke.

The confidence in his voice.

The way he looked straight into that camera and erased four years of my life like they had never happened.

Four years.

Four f*****g years.

I had loved that man for four years.

I had waited for him.

I had hidden him.

I had accepted the late-night visits and the secret calls and the excuses.

I had accepted never being able to hold his hand outside.

I had accepted leaving restaurants separately.

I had accepted that I couldn’t post him.

Couldn’t introduce him.

Couldn’t call him my boyfriend in public.

I had accepted all of it because I loved him.

Because I believed one day it would change.

And now I was watching him tell the world that he didn’t even know me.

My phone rang.

I looked at the screen.

Captain.

I swallowed.

I answered.

“Captain Hamilton.”

His voice was professional.

Serious.

“André, I need you to come in.”

“What’s going on?”

There was a pause.

“You’ve seen the media coverage?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve spoken with the fire chief.”

My chest tightened.

“Okay.”

“Andre, this is your first complaint.”

I closed my eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve been with this station for almost nine years.”

“Eight years and seven months.”

“I know.”

His voice softened.

“You’ve never had a disciplinary issue. Not one.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You’ve got an excellent record. You’ve received commendations. You’ve taken on leadership responsibilities. You’re a captain because you’ve earned it.”

I swallowed.

“Yes, sir.”

“But because this is now a public complaint involving a civilian and because there’s an allegation of inappropriate conduct during an active emergency response, the chief has decided to suspend you pending review.”

My jaw clenched.

“How long?”

“Two weeks.”

Two weeks.

I looked down at my hands.

“Okay.”

“I want you to understand something. This isn’t a finding against you.”

“I understand.”

“The chief understands your record.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be back after the suspension unless something changes.”

“Understood.”

There was another pause.

“André?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m sorry.”

I stared at the floor.

“Thank you.”

The call ended.

I sat there.

Two weeks.

Eight years and seven months.

One complaint.

One incident.

Two weeks.

And honestly?

It didn’t even hurt that much.

I could handle two weeks.

I could handle an investigation.

I could handle explaining myself.

I could handle the media.

I could handle people asking questions.

What I couldn’t handle was Jamal.

I couldn’t handle watching the man I loved sit in front of a camera and tell the world that he didn’t know me.

That broke something inside me.

For two days, he called.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I didn’t answer.

I watched his name appear on my phone.

Jamal calling…

I let it ring.

Then again.

Jamal calling…

I turned my phone face down.

I loved him.

God, I loved him.

But I couldn’t keep doing this.

Two days after the press release, I was sitting in my living room when I heard my front door unlock.

I knew who it was.

I had given him that key four years ago.

Four years ago, I had smiled when I handed it to him.

I had told him, This is your home too.

Now I wished I had never done it.

The door opened.

Jamal stepped inside.

He looked exhausted.

His eyes were swollen.

He had probably been crying.

“Dre…”

I stood up.

“No.”

He froze.

“Dre, please.”

“No, Jamal.”

He took one step toward me.

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t—”

“Don’t.”

His lips trembled.

“I was scared.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know.”

“I swear to God, Andre, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

I looked at him.

“Baby…”

His voice broke.

“I couldn’t defend you.”

I closed my eyes.

“Jamal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Baby, I understand when you’re scared.”

He cried harder.

“I understand a lot of things when you’re scared.”

I took a breath.

“But God.”

My voice cracked.

“Baby, no.”

He wiped his face.

“Andre—”

“Mal, I can’t take it anymore.”

He went completely still.

I could see the fear entering his eyes.

“Andre…”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“We’ve been doing this for four years.”

“I know.”

“Four bloody years, Jamal.”

“I know.”

“I have been patient with you.”

“I know.”

“I have hidden you.”

His face crumpled.

“I know.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to love somebody and hide it?”

He couldn’t answer.

“Do you know what that feels like?”

He shook his head slowly.

“No.”

I laughed bitterly.

“No. I don’t think you do, baby.”

“Andre, I love you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know you love me.”

“Then please—”

“But loving me isn’t enough anymore.”

He stopped breathing for a second.

I looked away.

“I’m the captain of that station, Jamal.”

His eyes filled again.

“You know that.”

“I know.”

“You know how hard I worked for that position.”

“I know.”

“You know I was due for another promotion.”

“I know.”

“You know everything.”

“I know.”

“And then your family releases that statement.”

He covered his mouth.

“And you…”

I shook my head.

“You couldn’t defend me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t even say you knew me.”

“I was scared.”

“And I understand that.”

I stepped back.

“But you made a choice.”

His eyes widened.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You did.”

“No.”

“You chose to protect yourself.”

“I was terrified.”

“And I understand that.”

My voice broke.

“But Jamal, you protected yourself.”

He started crying again.

“You did exactly what you were afraid your family would do to you.”

I swallowed.

“And now I need to protect myself too.”

“Please don’t.”

“I need to.”

“No, Andre.”

He stepped closer.

I stepped back.

“Please.”

I shook my head.

“Jamal, I loved you.”

His entire face collapsed.

“I still love you.”

“Then don’t leave me.”

“I can’t keep doing this.”

“Andre, please.”

“I need space.”

“No.”

“I need space.”

“No, no, no.”

His breathing became uneven.

“Andre, please.”

“I need us to break up.”

Silence.

Jamal stared at me.

Like he hadn’t understood the words.

Then his head slowly shook.

“No.”

“Jamal…”

“No.”

He stepped toward me.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Andre.”

His voice cracked.

“Andre, I’m your baby.”

I closed my eyes.

That nearly destroyed me.

“I’m still your baby.”

I couldn’t look at him.

“Please.”

His voice was so small.

“I’m still your baby.”

I wiped my face.

“Baby…”

“Don’t call me baby if you’re leaving me.”

That hurt.

God.

That hurt.

I looked at him.

Tears were running down his face.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t.”

“But I can’t stay like this.”

“Please.”

“I can’t.”

He came closer.

“Andre, I can fix this.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I’ll tell them.”

I looked at him.

“When?”

“Now.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“After they already destroyed me?”

He froze.

“I…”

I shook my head.

“I’m not asking you to fix everything today.”

“I can.”

“Maybe.”

“I will.”

“But I don’t have anything left.”

He started sobbing.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know.”

“Please.”

“I love you.”

“Then stay.”

“I love you too much to keep pretending this isn’t killing me.”

He covered his face.

I turned away.

Because if I kept looking at him, I knew I would give in.

And I couldn’t.

Not this time.

“Can you please leave my house?”

He looked up.

“Dre…”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Jamal.”

“Please, Andre.”

“Baby, I just need space.”

“We’re not breaking up.”

I looked at him.

“I need space.”

“We’re not breaking up.”

“Okay.”

He nodded desperately.

“Okay. Space.”

He wiped his cheeks.

“I can give you space.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll wait.”

I didn’t answer.

“I’ll wait for you.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

He reached into his pocket.

His keys slipped from his fingers.

They hit the floor.

The sound was painfully loud in the quiet room.

Jamal stared at them.

Then he bent down.

Picked them up.

And placed them on the table.

The key I had given him.

The key to my home.

The key that once meant you belong here.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Then he looked at me.

“I love you.”

I couldn’t speak.

He nodded.

“I love you, Dre.”

My throat tightened.

“Please go home, Jamal.”

He walked toward the door.

His hand rested on the handle.

He turned around one last time.

His eyes were red.

His face was wet.

“You’re really letting me go?”

I swallowed.

“I need you to go.”

He nodded.

Then he opened the door.

And walked out.

The door closed.

And the second it did—

My knees gave out.

I hit the floor.

Hard.

I didn’t even feel it.

I just sat there.

Staring at the door.

My chest hurt.

My throat burned.

My hands shook.

And then I cried.

Not quietly.

Not like a man trying to keep himself together.

I cried like something inside me had been ripped open.

I covered my face.

“God…”

I couldn’t breathe properly.

Four years.

Four years of loving him.

Four years of waiting.

Four years of hoping.

Four years of telling myself that eventually, he would choose me.

And now I was the one who had asked him to leave.

I pressed my hands against my eyes.

“God…”

I had never cried like that.

Never.

Not when I lost people.

Not after difficult calls.

Not after the worst fires.

Not after the nights I thought I wouldn’t make it home.

But this?

This broke me.

Because Jamal was alive.

He was somewhere out there.

And I loved him.

God, I loved him.

But loving him had started to feel like losing myself.

And for the first time in four years, I had chosen myself.

Even though it hurt like hell.

Even though every part of me wanted to open that door and bring him back.

I stayed on the floor.

And cried.

Because sometimes loving someone didn’t mean you could keep hurting yourself for them.

And right now…

I needed to survive too.