Page 17 of Kissed By the Trillest Thug 2

I pulled in a slow breath and squeezed my eyes shut. The familiar scent of Tahari’s cologne filled my lungs, grounding me just enough to keep me from completely falling apart.

When he pressed another kiss against my forehead, I finally lifted my head and looked at him. My gaze drifted toward his arm before returning to his face.

“I don’t understand any of this,” I admitted quietly.

Tahari didn’t rush to answer. He didn’t try to give me some speech that would magically make everything okay. He looked at me and listened. That was one thing about him.

He knew when somebody needed answers. But he also knew when somebody just needed space to feel whatever they were feeling. I swallowed hard and stepped away from him, needing a second to gather myself. My hands rubbed over my face as I walked around the kitchen island, eventually settling onto one of the stools.

For a few seconds I stared down at the countertop before letting out a small laugh. The sound surprised even me. Tahari looked over.

“What?”

I shook my head.

“Nothing.”

But it was something. My mind had drifted back years without my permission. Back to all the little arguments MJ and I used to have. Back to all the comments he would make whenever I acted like our father was some harmless family man who spent his days working and coming home. A small smile touched my lips despite everything.

“MJ used to get so irritated with me.”

Tahari leaned back slightly against the counter.

“About what?”

I laughed softly.

“About Dad.”

The smile faded almost immediately.

“I used to tell him he was dramatic.”

My fingers traced absent circles across the countertop.

“He’d say things about my father, and I’d roll my eyes because I thought he was lying.”

I shook my head.

“You don’t know Pops like I know Pops,”I mimicked MJ.

The memory sounded different now because finally I know the truth behind all of the bullshit. I looked down for a second. Then out toward the living room. Then nowhere at all.

“I think there was always a part of me that knew there were things about him I didn’t understand.”

The admission left me feeling strangely exposed. Because it was true. There were moments over the years that didn’t quite fit the image I had of my father.

There were questions I never asked and things I ignored because it was easier to ignore them. I looked back at Tahari.

“My father has always just been Dad to me,” my voice softened before I continued,

“The man who called me princess. The man who showed up for everything. The man who never let me want for anything.”

My throat tightened.

“And now I feel like everybody else got a version of him that I never met.”

Tahari stayed quiet. He didn’t defend my father. He didn’t criticize him either. He just let me talk. And somehow the silence of him letting me have the floor made me keep talking.