Chapter 3

It took Skye four more days of showing up, texting, and applying just enough pressure before Malik finally said yes.

She had learned quickly that pushing too hard only made him pull back.

So she changed tactics.

The invitations stayed casual. No big deal. No expectations. She’d stop by, talk for a while, leave. The next day she’d send a message. Then another invitation.

Eventually, persistence became familiar instead of annoying.

“Just food,” she told him one afternoon, leaning against the open doorway of his trailer while he finished a plate of leftovers. “That’s it.”

Malik glanced up at her.

“My mom already likes you from everything I’ve told her. She really wants you to join us.”

He gave her a skeptical look.

“Your mom likes me.”

“She does.”

“And your dad?”

Skye hesitated just long enough to answer the question without saying anything.

“Mom’s the one inviting you.”

Malik laughed quietly.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Nothing fancy,” Skye continued. “Come eat, stay an hour, leave whenever you want. You don’t have to make a whole thing out of it.”

Malik set his fork down.

He studied her for a long moment.

There were plenty of reasons to say no.

The obvious one was Vernon.

Malik had already seen enough of the man to know exactly what kind of reception he was likely to get. The last thing he needed was to walk into somebody else’s home and spend an hour being treated like an intruder.

But curiosity mattered too.

He wanted to see the family up close.

He wanted to understand Cheryl, who seemed genuinely friendly despite everything he’d heard and seen. He wanted to see Jesse and Skye in their own environment.

And, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to meet Vernon face-to-face.

Not because he expected anything good to come from it.

Because sometimes it was better to know exactly what you were dealing with.

Then there was Skye herself.

She had been persistent, but she hadn’t been cruel about it. She hadn’t thrown a fit when he said no. She hadn’t tried to guilt him into coming. She’d simply kept asking, giving him room to change his mind.

One dinner felt like a risk he could afford.

“All right,” he said.

Skye’s face lit up.

“I’ll come.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

She grinned.

“Okay. Six-thirty.”

Malik shook his head as she disappeared down the steps.

“Six-thirty,” he repeated to himself.

Then he looked around the trailer.

“Guess I better make myself presentable.”

That evening, Malik showed up a few minutes early.

He’d taken his time getting ready, choosing something simple but deliberate: dark jeans, a neatly fitted button-down, clean shoes. Nothing flashy. Nothing that suggested he was trying to impress anyone.

Still, he’d checked himself in the mirror twice before leaving.

The walk from his trailer to the family’s house was short enough that there was no reason to drive.

By the time he reached the front door, he’d already decided on one rule for the evening.

Be polite.

Don’t react.

And if Vernon wanted to make a problem out of dinner, let Vernon be the one who looked foolish doing it.

The front door opened onto the small living area, which still smelled faintly of cardboard, takeout, and the lingering scent of whatever Cheryl had been cooking.

The move wasn’t finished. Boxes remained stacked against the walls. A lamp sat on the floor waiting for somebody to decide where it belonged. One dining chair looked like it had been borrowed from another room.

The table, however, was already set.

And Vernon was already seated.

He looked up when Malik stepped inside.

The unhappiness was immediate.

No smile.

No greeting.

Not even the courtesy of pretending.

Just a flat, hard stare that seemed to make the temperature in the room drop a couple of degrees.

Malik stopped just inside the doorway.

Then Cheryl appeared from the kitchen, wineglass already in hand.

Her expression was considerably warmer.

“You must be Malik.”

She smiled.

“Come in. Sit down. We’re glad you could make it.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Vernon said nothing.

The silence stretched for a moment.

Malik glanced toward the open chair at the table.

Then back at Cheryl.

She gave him an encouraging smile.

So he walked over.

The private agreement between Vernon and Cheryl was the only reason Vernon remained in his chair. Cheryl had made her position clear: either he kept his hostility under control inside the house, or she would stop protecting him from the consequences of his behavior outside it. There would be no more public scenes, no more confrontations, and no more pretending that his behavior hadn’t already damaged the family.

Vernon had agreed because the alternative was worse.

That agreement did not make him happy about having Malik in his home.

Every line of his body remained rigid.

His eyes followed Malik across the room and never left him.

Malik noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He pulled out the empty chair, sat down, and looked directly at Vernon.

Then he smiled.

Brightly.

Politely.

Almost cheerfully.

“Good evening, Vernon.”

Cheryl was already deep into the cheap strong wine.

She refilled her glass before sitting down, the bottle still open on the counter behind her. Whatever restraint she might have had earlier in the day was gone. She smiled at Malik like he was an old friend instead of a stranger who had walked through the door ten minutes ago.

“Look at those arms,” she said, not even pretending to be subtle. “And that smile. It’s so nice having a strong handsome young man in the house for once.”

Jesse’s eyes flicked upward from his plate.

Skye immediately looked at her mother.

“Mom.”

“What?”

Cheryl looked genuinely confused by the reaction.

“I said he’s handsome.”

“I heard you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Nothing.”

Skye dropped her eyes back to her plate.

Cheryl waved the exchange away and leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table.

“Tell us about yourself. Skye’s been stingy with the details.”

Malik gave Skye a brief glance.