Page 57 of Collateral Love

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Subtle.

Another supplier tried to overstep. A runner tried to freelance. A girl tried to cozy up to Kenya under the wrong pretenses.

Kenya shut it all down before I even had to raise my voice.

Watching her dismantle problems without touching them changed something in me.

I didn’t want to own her.

I wanted to protect the conditions that let her exist as she was.

That’s not romance.

That’s reverence.

One night, after everything was locked and quiet, we sat on the hood of my car again.

Same spot.

Same stars.

Different weight.

“You love me,” she said.

It wasn’t a question.

I didn’t deny it.

“I do,” I said.

“I love you too,” she said quietly. “That’s why this stays like this.”

I swallowed.

“You sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Because if we cross it now, we break something we won’t get back.”

That hurt.

But it also felt right.

“You don’t want me soft,” she continued. “And I don’t want you reckless.”

I nodded.

She slid off the hood and stood in front of me.

“Someday,” she said, “this won’t be about survival. And when that day comes, we can revisit everything.”

I watched her walk away.

Didn’t follow.

Didn’t reach.

Didn’t ask for more.

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