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sarcastic-sunshines · 2 months ago

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What You Spit, I Swallowed (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio. Ya'll gon' feel some things.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N - I realized I could only edit this for so long and I actually had to post it 🤪 I really appreciate your comments/reblogs, it's what keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think! 😘

My Masterlist ___

Smoke watched from the living room as Annie bustled around the house making sure everything was just right. The kitchen. The powder room. The cellar which nobody would see. Everything needed to be just right.

The roast was in the oven. Table set. Wine poured. Annie stood at the counter, smoothing her hands down the front of her apron, then across the napkins again, though they didn’t need fixing.

“Can y’all just be civil? Please?” she said without turning. “For me. I just want to have a nice dinner tonight. As a family.”

She used that word a lot. Family. Said it like a prayer, a promise. Like saying it out loud might turn it true.

The boys knew better.

Stack was leaning against the archway, a little too relaxed, wine already heavy in his hand.

“I’m always civil,” he grinned. “I’m a delight.”

Smoke didn’t say anything at first. Just sat back at the table, stiff as iron, nursing a glass of whisky like medicine. He’d need it tonight. They both would.

“I ain’t lying to nobody,” he muttered, low.

Annie sighed. Not because she disagreed — but because she understood.

They weren’t happy about this. Never had been. Melody had a way of turning Annie into someone else — smaller, unsure. And the boys hated that. Hated watching the bold, beautiful woman they loved contort herself to keep the peace. To keep her peace.

So when Annie told them that Melody was gonna be in town and wanted to visit, the news wasn’t met with enthusiasm. When they protested she had shut them down, said that special word — family — and the boys knew they didn’t have a chance at dissuading her.

She laid down the final plate and crossed the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel that didn’t need cleaning. Her shoulders were tight. Her smile too practiced.

Melody was Annie’s half-sister. Same father, different everything else. Product of an affair that tore Annie’s whole world sideways and maybe even took her mother to the grave.

She was pretty, and soft-spoken when it served her. But she had a way of reaching back into Annie’s life like she had a claim to it. Like their shared blood gave her a right to rewrite things. Rewrite her.

Melody said things like they’d grown up hand-in-hand. Like Annie hadn’t spent her real childhood alone, and Melody hadn’t moved in only after her world fell apart.

She touched too casually. Said too much. Knew too little.

And yet… Annie kept trying. Trying to stitch something together out of all the scraps they’d been handed. Trying to make a family out of splinters.

There was a knock at the door.

The roast was carved. Greens passed. Biscuits buttered and cooling fast.

On the surface, everything looked like a proper supper. But Smoke hadn’t touched much of his food, and Stack had started drinking like the only way through the night was to float on top of it.

Melody leaned back in her chair, swirling her glass like she had something wise to say. Her gaze landed on the cornbread.

“Reminds me of when Mama used to burn the bottoms,” she said with a giggle. “She’d scrape off the black parts with a knife and pretend it was on purpose. Said it ‘kept you humble.’”

Annie’s fork paused mid-air.

Stack didn’t look up, but his mouth twitched.

“You remember that, don’t you?” Melody added, too quick. “That little yellow-handled knife she used for everything?”

Annie swallowed. Set her fork down quiet.

“She wasn’t my mama.”

Melody blinked, like she hadn’t expected that to sting.

“Well—no, obviously,” she said, waving a hand like it was silly to be so exact. “I just meant… your most recent mama. I mean, she was in the house.”

“She was in the house,” Annie said evenly.

Melody laughed, high and a little breathless, like she could laugh her way out of what just happened.

“Well,” she said, putting her glass down, “family’s funny like that, huh?” She added before placing a hand on Annie’s forearm.

Smoke’s eyes followed the movement with precision.

“So,” Melody said brightly, trying to start a conversation “y’all ever thought about kids?”

The question hung there, syrupy sweet with expectation.

Annie blinked. “We— We’ll know when we’re ready.”

Melody’s husband Frank leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show.

The man chuckled, low and grating. “Ain’t it about time though? Clock don’t wait forever. ‘Specially for women.”

Smoke’s knuckles tightened around his fork.

“I gotta admit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest, “I didn’t know what to expect, comin’ out here. Lotta stories floatin’ ‘round town.”

Stack’s eyes flicked up from his plate. Smoke didn’t move.

“Oh yeah?” Annie said, keeping her voice polite. “And what kinda stories are those?”

The man shrugged, like he was being reasonable.

“Just… folks wondering how something like this works. Three people under one roof. Two men sharin’ a woman —brothers at that. Sounds more like trouble than a marriage.”

Smoke still didn’t look up. But Annie could feel the shift. Like pressure building under floorboards.

“I mean, hell. Where I’m from, we call that a love triangle, not a household.”

Annie opened her mouth, but Stack beat her to it — voice easy, even playful.

“Well lucky for us, you ain’t from here.”

Melody gave her husband a look — the kind that meant you’re doin’ too much — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I just think kids need structure,” he said, “Two fathers under one roof? That’s confusion, not discipline.”

Now Smoke looked up. Real slow.

“You do a lot of childrearing yourself?” he asked.

The man blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“You talkin’ like you got a full house somewhere. How many you got?” the man had a menacing smile plastered on his face.

“…None yet.”

“Then hush.”

The man frowned. Then Frank reached across the table — not for the biscuits, not for the salt. For the gravy boat.

But instead of asking, he leaned in close, placing a steadying hand on Annie’s shoulder as he reached.

His thumb brushed against the strap of her dress.

Too familiar. Too firm.

“’Scuse me, darlin’,” he said, casual like he did it all the time.

It wasn’t the touch — it was the way he didn’t rush to remove it.

Smoke saw it. So did Stack.

And Annie flinched — just slightly — but enough to be noticed.

That should’ve been enough. But Melody’s hand went out — again — brushing Annie’s arm like they were girls sharing secrets instead of strangers dressed in matching last names.

"Mama used to say, ‘Ain’t no shame in wantin’ a real man.’ Guess you took that to heart, huh, sis? You went and got yourself two!"

Annie winced once more. It was soft, but Smoke saw it. And that was the last straw.

Smoke set his glass down. Quiet. Too quiet.

“You need to stop touchin’ her so casually.” he said pointing at the woman.

Melody’s hand stilled against Annie’s arm. Her smile wavered.

“Excuse me?”

“Smoke,” Annie said quickly, trying to smile, trying to control the room. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t blink. “It ain’t.”

Stack leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed but not joking anymore. “He’s right. You don’t know her like that. You ain’t earned the right.”

Melody’s brows arched, scandalized.

Annie stepped in faster this time, voice low but firm.

“Enough.”

She turned toward Smoke, hand light on his shoulder. His muscles were rigid beneath her palm.

“She’s family,” she said softly. “Let’s not do this right now.”

Stack leaned back, sucked his teeth, clearly biting something back. Smoke didn’t move at all.

“She ain’t family to me,” Smoke muttered.

“She is to me,” Annie snapped. “And that should be enough.”

That silenced the table — just long enough for Melody’s husband to break it again.

“Well,” he said, with a smirk, “nice to see someone wearing the pants in this house.”

Stack’s jaw tightened.

“Stack,” Annie warned, before he could speak.

He didn’t. But the damage was done.

Melody giggled, smoothing her napkin on her lap like nothing had happened.

Annie went to gather the plates.

“Dinner’s done,” she said. “Why don’t we move to the sitting room? I’ll bring coffee.”

She didn’t look at Smoke. Didn’t look at Stack either. She just carried the dishes to the kitchen, heart pounding, wishing it all felt less like a lie.

The front door clicked shut.

Silence.

Not the quiet kind, but the loaded kind. The kind that rattled inside your chest and made your ears ring.

Annie stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed tight, like she was bracing for impact.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. Stack didn’t move.

For a beat, nobody breathed.

Annie exhaled, hard. “Don’t start.”

“I ain’t startin’. I’m finishin’. The hell was that?” Smoke’s voice cut through the kitchen.

She turned, dish towel clenched tight in her hands. “What was what, Smoke?”

“You told me to stand down. You just about told Stack to shut up. While they sat at our table, runnin’ they mouths and touchin’ you like they know you.”

“They’re family.”

“No,” he snapped. “They’re not. That man disrespected you. And her? She touched you like she’s the one that tucks you in at night.”

“Stop it.”

Stack stepped in carefully, voice low. “She made you flinch, baby. We saw it. You don’t flinch with us.”

Annie bit her lip. Hard.

“I just wanted one peaceful night. I didn’t want a scene.”

“You wanted peace—so you offered us up like sacrificial lambs,” Smoke said, voice growing sharp.

“That ain’t fair.”

“No? You let her talk like y’all shared a childhood. Let that man spit on our marriage with a smile. Then told me to hush?”

“You think I don’t know who she is?” Annie’s voice cracked “I lived with her. She slept in my mama’s bed two weeks after she was buried. She was Daddy’s second chance and my reminder that I’d already lost.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry.

“I was just trying to keep the damn evening from fallin’ apart. You think I liked it? You think I didn’t hear every little dig, every look, every word?”

“Then why the hell ain’t you say somethin’?” Stack asked.

“Because I’m tired!” she shouted. “Tired of everything bein’ a fight. Tired of defendin’ my choices, my house, my men. I just wanted a quiet dinner!”

Smoke’s voice dropped cold. “Then don’t invite people who only show up to remind you that you alone.”

Annie’s shoulders pulled back like he’d struck her.

“Alone?”

“You got us. But when they’re here, you act like you don’t.”

The room felt smaller. Angrier. Like the walls were listening.

“I ain’t the one you should be mad at, Annie,” Smoke said.

“No. You’re just the one who wants to be mad for me.” Annie didn’t look at him.

He leaned back. Only slightly. But Stack caught it. Smoke prided himself on taking care of his family. He’d be the bad guy if it meant that they were ok. So for Annie to throw that in his face? It was low.

Annie turned on him. “What? Go on then. Call me out my name. You been waitin’ all night.”

“I been waitin’ for you to stop pretendin’ you owe that woman somethin’. Stop shrinkin’ yourself so she can feel taller.”

“And I been waitin’ for you to realize the world don’t revolve around your damn temper!”

“Y’all—” Stack tried.

“Elias, stay out of it.” She pointed at him.

That did it. Stack’s hands dropped. He stepped back, mouth flat.

Smoke’s voice turned dangerously soft. “You tellin’ him to stay out, but you let them strangers walk right in and put hands on what’s mine?”

Annie’s nostrils flared. She stepped in close.

“Don’t talk to me about ownership. I’m not some bitch you can pull by the leash when I embarrass you.”

Stacks head whipped around. Shock coloured his face.

“Annie. Don’t,” Stack warned softly — they didn’t talk like this to each other.

Smoke’s voice dropped low and clipped. “You gon’ wanna be real careful with me right now, woman.”

“Or what?” Annie challenged. “You gon’ bark louder? Show me why everybody outside scared of you?”

He stepped forward. Stack moved fast, blocking him.

“Enough.” Stack said. “We don’t do this shit. This ain’t us.”

“No,” Annie said. “This is exactly who we are. Pretendin’ this ain’t built on shaky ground.”

Looked like Frank’s words had planted a seed.

Stack moved like she’d slapped him.

“You think it’s shaky?” Smoke’s voice shook. “You think we ain’t holdin’ you up every day? Lovin’ you, buildin’ you back from the goddamn inside?”

His voice cracked — just slightly.

“I would burn this house down to protect you,” he said, softer now. “And you out here handin’ matches to people who never cared whether you froze.”

“She disrespected you, Annie,” Stack said, voice stiff. “Right to your face. And you smiled through it. Made us smile through it too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Annie laughed bitterly. “Was I supposed to let y’all growl and swing your dicks like dogs markin’ a tree?”

“Watch your mouth,” Smoke said slowly.

“No—you watch yours. I let you bark, posture. The minute I asked you to sit like a man, you sulked like a whipped boy.”

There it was. The heat. The disrespect.

“Annie…” Stack said, quiet, alarmed.

“I’ll beat the breaks off a nigga for touchin’ you,” Smoke said. “You lucky I didn’t.”

“Elijah—they’re family.” she tried to plead.

“So you gotta put up with disrespect?”

Annie threw her hands up, all syrup and sass. “The Moores got morals tonight!”

Stack cursed under his breath. Smoke went still as death.

“Fix them lips to say somethin’ crazy again, Annie,” Smoke warned. “See if I don’t remind you why you call me daddy.”

She tilted her head. “You sassin’?”

“C’mon now y’all…” Stack said half-terrified.

Smoke stepped closer, his voice dropping into something dark and dangerous. “It’s gon’ be real hard to take you serious if you got my seed drippin’ from your hole. Test me.”

Annie’s throat bobbed. She was gonna take that bait.

“Do not,” Stack said, sharp and urgent.

Too late.

“Annie’s sorry — ain’t ya, baby?” he tried, reaching for a lifeline.

“The hell I am,” she snapped.

“Don’t be a hero,” Stack warned, tension threading through his voice. “He gon’ turn you out, and I’ma join him.”

Annie looked at him, eyes glittering. Daring them both.

Smoke started up once more, “We’ll paint your insides white just how you like it. Remind you you the property of the Moores — no one else’s.”

“Property? That’s what I am to you?” she shot back. “A place to plant your damn flag?”

He shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“I ain’t land. You don’t own me.”

“You act like disrespectin’ us is rent you pay,” he shot back, voice cold.

That line came from somewhere deep — deeper than Smoke usually let show.

“If I’m so damn disrespectful,” Annie stepped in close, venom curling her words, “why you still crawlin’ back to this disrespectful pussy every night?”

Stack looked away. Smoke didn’t blink.

“That’s right,” she pressed. “You talk all this mine mine mine shit, but you only feel like a man when I’m on my knees, beggin’ for it.”

“Fix them lips, woman,” he said, low and mean.

“What? You don’t like it when I talk back? Only like me with your dick down my throat?”

“It make a fine picture.” Stack muttered from the side.

“I like it when you remember who’s keepin’ you safe. Lovin’ you every goddamn day while you spit in our faces.” Smoke reasoned.

“I’m done talking to you.” she spoke lowly.

“C’mon now,” Smoke said, voice soft and twisted. “Say somethin’ real filthy. You good at that when your jaw’s slack and your legs spread.”

“Smoke,” Stack snapped. “You know what you doin’. Stop provokin’ her.”

“Nah,” Smoke said without even looking at him. “She a big girl. She can take whatever daddy dish out, right?”

Stack stepped in. “It ain’t fair, Smoke. You know it ain’t fair.”

Smoke paused. Just a second. There were two of them. One of her. It was unbalanced. Always would be.

He sighed, started to lift a hand — maybe to apologize.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Annie spat in his face.

It hit his cheek and stuck.

For one sharp breath, nobody moved.

Annie stood perfectly still, chest rising hard. Her jaw clenched, eyes shining—not with tears, but with fury. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

Then Smoke cracked.

Stack caught him hard at the chest, shoving him back.

“Don’t.”

Smoke went still.

The spit clung to his cheek, hot and humiliating. He didn’t wipe it. Just stared — right at her.

Annie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her spine was stiff, posture defiant. But there was something flickering in her eyes now.

“I wanna fuck that disrespect right outta her,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

He stepped toward her — not to strike, but to claim, to punish her with the only kind of control he knew wouldn’t break her.

Annie’s breath caught. Just barely.

Stack stepped in fast — arm out, body angled between them.

“And we don’t do things that way,” he snapped, sharp and firm.

Their eyes locked. For a long, brittle second, it felt like something might break.

“You want her like that? Broken?” Stack asked his brother.

The picture he painted with that statement stung.

He didn’t want her like that. Giving in because she didn’t have a choice. Because he “bested” her.

He wanted it offered to him, because she felt like he deserved it. He didn’t wanna take it.

“You keep pushin’, you gon’ scare her,” Stack said, quieter now. “And she don’t deserve that from you.”

That stopped him.

Smoke’s jaw ticked hard, and he deflated.

Behind Stack, Annie was still frozen in place—arms locked at her sides, as if afraid any movement might shatter the silence.

“Take a walk,” Stack added. “Right now. Before you say somethin’ you can’t unsay.”

Smoke didn’t move.

“I got her,” Stack said, gentler now. “You… go cool off.”

Finally, Smoke blinked. Swallowed. His eyes never left Annie.

“You make sure she’s okay,” he said, hoarse.

“I got her.”

Then he turned and walked out — quiet, controlled, like a storm bottled in a man.

Annie stood frozen.

Then sat — slow and stiff — like someone letting herself fall without a net.

Stack stayed standing, chest heaving like he’d just run a race.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t answer.

He dropped to a knee beside her.

“He lost his temper. He shouldn’t’ve. You know that.”

She nodded — barely.

“I made him,” she said.

“No,” Stack replied. “You matched him. That’s different.”

A beat passed. He reached for her hand.

“You still ours,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ shifted in that.”

She squeezed once.

“He didn’t even flinch,” she whispered. “But his eyes… they changed.”

Stack squeezed her hand. “He was mad. That don’t mean he stopped carin’.”

“He’s scared. Same as you,” Stack said. “That’s what it is—fear dressed up as fire.”

She exhaled hard, like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You meant it,” he cut in gently but firm. “Don’t lie to me.”

That shut her up. Her mouth pressed into a hard line.

“You meant it,” Stack said again, softer this time, “and that’s what’s eatin’ him up.”

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Thick with things they couldn’t take back.

She looked toward the door, then back at Stack.

“You mad at me too?”

He sighed. “Don’t matter what I’m feelin’. You’re my wife. My family. I stand with you—even when I don’t like how it went down.”

“I’m sorry, Stack,” she whispered.

He gave a small shrug. “Don’t be sorry. Be sure.”

Then he stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

“I'm gon’ fix my plate again,” he murmured. “If I don’t eat, I get mean.”

That earned him the smallest laugh. But it was what he needed to hear. Enough to know she was still with him.

“I set aside your favourite,” she murmured, voice rough but soft. “Kept it warm in the oven… in that little dish with the blue trim. Knew you’d want a snack later.”

He paused, and his eyes flicked to hers — just for a second. That did something to him.

“Always lookin’ out,” he said, almost to himself.

Then, quieter: “Love you, baby.”

One more kiss to her head. Then he turned for the kitchen, shoulders squared a little taller than before.

The door creaked open.

Smoke stood in the threshold like he wasn’t sure he had the right to come back in. Smoke looked different. Not unraveled — not quite. But quieted. Like whatever storm had rolled through him had lost its bite, leaving behind a man instead of a tempest.

Annie didn’t turn. She sat curled on the couch, knees tucked beneath her, her hand still in Stack’s. The fire had burned low, its glow casting soft shadows across the room. Silence pressed in like fog.

Smoke stepped inside, slow and cautious, like a man testing floorboards for landmines. His eyes found her first. She didn’t flinch. But she didn’t look up, either.

“I scared you,” he said, voice low.

No one answered.

He stood there a beat longer, hat in hand, shoulders heavy.

“I talked about ownin’ you. Fuckin’ the disrespect outta you,” he went on, his voice thick. “That ain’t love talk. That’s not somethin’ you say to the woman you love.”

Annie shifted slightly. Stack’s thumb moved gently over her knuckles.

“I ain’t proud of it,” Smoke murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Still, neither of them spoke.

Smoke let out a breath through his nose, rough around the edges.

“I was mad you shut us down,” he said. “Mad you didn’t let us defend you. But I didn’t come at you like a husband. I came at you like a man who forgot what kind of woman he had.”

That made her look up.

Her eyes were still red, but she met his gaze steady.

“You did scare me,” she said softly.

Stack’s jaw ticked, but Annie gave his hand a squeeze—like she was okay.

“And I hurt y’all too,” she added. “Shut you down in your own home. Made you feel unheard. That wasn’t right.”

She stood, slow and deliberate. Smoke didn’t move.

“You and Stack… you’re my peace,” she said. “My anchor. And tonight I treated you like a storm. All ‘cause I let my past talk louder than the two men who actually built something with me.”

She stepped toward Smoke now, close enough her chest brushed his.

“I’m sorry I spit,” she said, quieter still. “That was… uncalled for. And beneath me.”

Smoke’s brow furrowed, something soft and pained flickering in his eyes. His hand came up, cradling her jaw.

“You still ours?” he asked.

She nodded once.

“Yours. Always.”

Behind them, Stack smiled to himself.

Then Annie turned to Stack.

The man looked caught off guard—his brows lifted, lips parting like he wasn’t expecting the spotlight.

“I’m sorry I made you feel secondary today, baby,” she said. “Like your opinion didn’t matter. Like you were less than.”

“Whoa, now—I ain’t say all that,” Stack replied, lifting a hand.

“You didn’t have to,” she murmured. “I see now what I was doing. And it was wrong. You’re every bit a part of this, and I treated you like a bystander. I’m sorry, Elias. Truly.”

Stack blinked. For a second, he didn’t know what to say.

Smoke chimed in, voice low. “And thank you.”

Stack looked over.

“I was losin’ my head in here,” Smoke said. “And you got me right. You always do.”

“Well,” Stack drawled, clearing his throat and smoothing down his collar. “Now that y’all mention it… you right. I am the star of today’s show. Glad that’s been properly acknowledged.”

That earned him a chuckle from both Annie and Smoke.

He folded his arms and leaned back, cocky as ever. He thrusted his chin at Annie “You can show me your gratitude in peach cobbler.”

Annie arched a brow. “Peach cobbler?”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t cheap out it either. I need hella peaches in there.” he said dead serious.

“And you—” he looked at Smoke, “you can take stock at the juke for the next week.”

“Three days,” Smoke countered.

“Five.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it, solemn as preachers.

Annie laughed—quiet, but real—and turned to glance over her shoulder.

“Well,” Stack said, breaking the lingering tension with a dry drawl, “now that everyone’s sorry… can we go back to actin’ like Melody’s husband don’t eat with his damn mouth open and ask questions like ‘what y’all do for money’ like he ain’t got food crumbs in his mustache?”

Annie barked a laugh. Smoke cracked a grin despite himself.

“Mm,” Annie said, eyes dancing, “maybe I’ll go spit on him next time.”

Smoke raised a brow. “You better not. I’m the only one gettin’ that kind of disrespect.”

She smirked. “So… the ‘fuckin’ the disrespect outta me’ thing… that still on the table, or?”

Stack groaned, loud and dramatic, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m leavin’ the room.”

“No, no,” Annie said quickly, reaching out to stop him. Her voice softened. “I want all my boys,” she murmured. “My family. With me tonight.”

Stack froze.

Smoke looked up at her—really looked.

Smoke’s lips brushed her temple. Stack kissed her shoulder.

The house, so loud just an hour ago, fell to hush.

Just heartbeats.

Just them.

And the slow, quiet burn of still belonging to one another.

A/N Thought I'd give ya'll a variation of some angst for the trio but I'd actually end it off so I don't leave you in perpetual pain like I did in Touch of a Woman 🤪 For those curious about what fic in this AU would come after this... you'd enjoy Signed in Crayon, Sealed in Cash 💰

Always eager to hear your thoughts and encouragement it keeps me writing. Can't wait to hear what ya'll think 🥰

____

My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

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sarcastic-sunshines · 3 months ago

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STRONGER • THAN • PRIDE

annie x smoke • angst

summary: after returning home from Club Juke’s opening night, annie and smoke have a real conversation about their years spent apart and the pain and tears shed.

cw: angstyyy, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of the death of a child

a/n: here y’all goooo. i’m so torn apart by their love like goddamn. inspired by Sade’s “Love Is Stronger Than Your Pride.”

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air in their home felt heavy with uncertainty and draining emotion. The home Annie had made her own after seven years without the love of her life felt different now that he had found his way back. It was like the walls could sense his presence. Like the hardwood floors were buzzing under his footsteps—knowing he would so easily fall back into the routine he held seven years ago.

Smoke had been gone so long, but Annie hadn’t forgotten anything about him. About their life together.

It was like her mind paused when he left her, conserving every emotion, memory, and conversation they ever shared. She wanted to hate him, wanted to stop living when he tore their family apart, but now that he was back, she realized that no matter how hard she tried to feel that way, she couldn’t do that to him.

She wanted and needed that man like she needed air to breathe. When he was gone, nothing felt the same. Her spiritual life faltered as she put every ounce of her body and soul into keeping him safe until he was to return.

Him being back made her body reverberate again. It felt like she had confidence in her power again.

Elijah’s body moved through the house, stronger and wilder than it was seven years ago. His form was stormier than she remembered, but it didn’t overwhelm her. As she eyed the way he moved in a calculated and routine manner, ridding his upper body of his pressed, sweat-drenched button-up and throwing it over a chair, she vowed to quell those storms in him like she once had.

She promised—quietly—to take care of her man and cast out every one of those demons in him.

“I ain’t ever been good at forgiveness, Elijah,” Annie spoke up after staring at him boldly. Her eyes were cloudy with every emotion she had felt over the course of their relationship:

Devotion.

Shame.

Pride.

Heartbreak.

Love.

She didn’t know how to quiet the litany of swirling thoughts in her. He looked at her, confusion etched into his face—and something close to sorrow.

“Annie,” his bottom lip quivered, hands shook violently at his sides. He tried to reach for her even in his trembling, but she pulled back sharply. Hurt flashed across his face, but she was just trying to not give in as easily as she had earlier. She was so embarrassed that she let him back into her body so quickly—that she had facilitated the entire event.

Their bodies craved each other, and not once in their time apart had she thought to find solace in another hot, needy body.

“Don’t,” she warned, pushing past him and to the tin wash basin tucked into a corner of the front room. She drenched her hands in water as a distraction from the conversation they needed to have, trying to wash away her pain. “I wanted ‘tah hate you so bad, ‘Lijah. I wanted ‘tah forget you the way you forgot me. I wanted ‘tah curse you. Put roots on you so bad that you wouldn’t be able to rest well without me hauntin’ yo’ mind.”

She huffed, turning to face him sharply. She roughly raked her hands against her haint blue velvet dress to dry them. Annie’s eyes burned with fire as she made him trembled under her hardened gaze.

“You ain’t have to put no roots on me, woman,” Smoke blew out a heavy breath of air. “Thoughts of you haunted me day and night for seven years. Didn’t let up on me ‘til I stepped foot in that yard earlier.” He gripped violently at his own hands to calm the tremble. He had never seen her so mad. Not when he admitted to killing his father. No when he admitted to enlisting in the military. Not even when he left her during the heat of a Mississippi night.

Annie always gave him the benefit of the doubt, but here, seven years and a bunch of heartache later, things had dramatically changed.

She laughed exasperatedly, shaking her head in disbelief.

“So you mean to tell me you left me, left our home, left our baby girl just for you ‘tah come back talkin’ ‘bout some I was hauntin’ you?” Her voice shook with anger, tone carried very bit of pain she had held in just waiting for him to be standing in front of her again. “You left our baby to rot in that ground without her daddy here—”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Smoke challenged, walking into her heaving body. It was like smoke blew out of his ears and nose as he pressed his chest to hers in an attempt to intimidate her. “Don’t say that about her,” he tried again with a more steady voice, but he didn’t realize that there was nothing that could stop a grieving mother from saying her peace.

Her head reared back at his audacity to limit her speech. He knew better than to keep her from doing anything she had set her mind to.

“Don’t say what, Smoke,” the use of his nickname made his heart break just slightly, “that she dead? That you left? That I go out to that grave everyday to sit with my baby? That I remind her that her daddy love her even if you ain’t here?” Annie fumed; Her voice raised, threatening him to come at her crazy again.

“Please,” Smoke broke down, tears spilling from his eyes and a sob tearing his throat apart.

The quietness he had developed over the years had only worsened in his time in Chicago. He sat within himself everyday blaming himself, cursing his own name, finding dishonor in the man he had become.

He never wanted to be a man that left his family and couldn’t deal with his emotions so much so that he neglected the people he vowed to be committed to. He saw himself as worse than his father. He didn’t beat his wife, and he didn’t utter a foul word her way, but he left her. His body was ridden with cowardice, and he didn’t know how to contend with the truth in words she was spitting.

Annie bit her bottom lip, trying her damndest to not break out in a mirrored cry. She had cried so much in the past years that she hated the idea of letting him see her cry now. She bowed her head, shielding her eyes from his trembling form.

The man she knew was a crumbled lump of sadness. Emotions passed over him that she had never seen before. His pride had collapsed. The sure fire man she knew wasn’t standing before her any longer.

It made her own pride and ego chip away ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, Annie, baby. I swear wanted to come back,” he cried, kneeling before her with thick tears streaming down his face and across his dimpled cheeks. He gripped at her hips, bunching the fabric of her dress as he pleaded and cried bloody murder for his words to pierce her ears. “I just ‘bout left Stack up there ‘bout twenty times ‘cause you all I ever wanted.”

Annie rolled her eyes. She didn’t point out the irony in him wanting her but still leaving her or the heartbreak in him not departing from his twin even with her constantly on his mind. She watched him fall apart at the seems and fell apart right beside him.

“Elijah,” she uttered, pulling his body up off the floor. His feet scrambled but he stood before her—back slouched, eyebrows draw together. He still didn’t look at her fully—he couldn’t—forcing her to grab ahold of his face and stare directly into his eyes. “As much as I want to hate you, you all I ever wanted, too.”

Their bodies shook against each other as the house ran quiet again. The rising sun was beginning to peek out from behind the horizon. It marked a new day full of possibilities and lost chances.

Their minds ran wild.

Smoke thought about the first time her ever saw Annie: big, brown eyes looking through his body like she saw everything he was and could be. Annie thought about the day their baby girl was born: Smoke smiling wider than she had ever seen, toting around their tiny, eight-pound baby in his big arms.

They didn’t think about the fights they had.

Or the nights they spent crying over their sick child.

Or the agony it was to bury her little body before she had even surpassed that newborn weight.

Or any of the lonely nights spent apart for seven whole years.

They just thought about the love they shared—the good times and how they could create so many new memories together.

“I love ya’,” Elijah chirped, voice clipped but full of hope. He rested his forehead against Annie’s, attempting to search her brain for what thoughts she was having, coming up unlucky. She was as hard to read as he was.

But as her arm began to stroke up and down his arm, Annie slowly let the rest of her pride slip away. Nothing was gonna ever keep her from her man.

“I love you, too, Elijah.”

That had him smiling a melancholy smile. He had waited so long to hear her utter those words again. He thought that he’d never get to have a place in her heart after the foolishness he had done.

“I vow to make it up ‘tah you every day of my life, baby,” he assured. He punctuated his words with a gentle squeeze to her waist, eyes refusing to leaves hers. “My love for you is stronger than everything. Stronger than the depth of German trenches. Than the thousands of miles of the Mississippi River. Than any level of pride in my body.” Annie finally let her tears flow. He placed a warm hand on her cheek to steady himself. “You my everythin’, Annie.”

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