She grabbed at my hair, jerking my head back. I screamed, but before she could drag me further, Pressure’s hand locked around her wrist. He twisted it just enough to make her shout and let go, then shoved her back, redirecting her away from me.
“Get your hands off me!” she screeched. “You going to jail!”
Pressure didn’t even look at her. His eyes stayed on me and Zurie. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I pushed past her, holding Zurie tight, and stepped out the door. Pressure grabbed our bags, loading them into the backseat of the car parked outside. He opened the back door for Zurie, helping her in gently, making sure she was buckled and safe, then he shut the door and opened the passenger side for me.
My hands shook as I climbed in, my chest still heavy with fear and anger. Pressure slid behind the wheel, his face hard but his silence even louder. When he started the car and pulled away, I looked out the window, watching the apartment fade into the distance, knowing I wasn’t ever coming back.
During the drive to the hotel, I kept my hands in my lap, replaying the whole situation that went down back at the apartment with my father. I still couldn’t believe his drunk ass had the nerve to hit me. I always knew he had a temper, always knew the liquor in his system made him reckless with his words, but the way he raised his hands tonight and actually put them on me… that shit hurt me so bad. What cut even more was the fact that Pressure had to be the one to come crashing into all that chaos, kicking in the front door, dragging me and Zurie out of the madness, and handling my father the way I never thought I’d see.
The car was quiet, like every sound outside had been swallowed up. All I could hear was the sound of the tires against the road and Zurie’s soft breathing in the back seat. She had cried herself to sleep, her little body curled up with her blanket, and for that I was thankful because at least she was resting. Pressure’s face was unreadable in the dark. The glow from the dashboard painted his skin in shadows, and his grip on the wheel was tight but calm, like he wasn’t about to let go of control no matter how wild things got.
I kept sneaking looks at him, the weight of embarrassment pressing down heavy on me. He had walked into my family’s mess without hesitation, without questions, and I felt exposed in a way I couldn’t put into words. My father’s shouting, my mother’s crying, the broken door, the fight—it was all sitting in the back of my mind like an ugly picture I couldn’t rip up. My throat burned with the apology I knew I had to say, so I turned my head toward him and let it out soft.
“I’m sorry for all this,” I said, my voice low, like I didn’t even want to hear it myself.
Pressure didn’t take his eyes off the road. “It’s all good.”
I could tell by the way his words fell that he didn’t want to talk about it. And honestly, I didn’t blame him. Some things just took time to sit with. Still, hearing that simple answer gave me a small piece of peace, like he wasn’t holding it against me even if I was holding it against myself.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. By the time we pulled into the hotel lot, Zurie was knocked out completely. Pressure glanced back at her, then at me.
“You want me to carry her in?” he asked.
I hesitated because I was very protective of her, probably too protective. I just couldn’t let her out of my hands, but tonight I was tired, body and spirit. And something in the way he asked, not like he was trying to take control but like he was offering, made me nod and reply, “yeah, okay.”
He got out and opened the back door carefully, leaning down to scoop her up like she was the most fragile thing in the world. Her head rested on his shoulder, her little braids sliding against his chest, and I watched the way his hand supported her back, how careful he was not to wake her. It stirred something in me that had nothing to do with just being thankful. It was attraction, plain and simple, seeing him like this.
I grabbed the bags and followed him inside. The hotel lobby was quiet, just a man at the desk and the soft echo of our footsteps on the floor. People looked sometimes when Pressure walked into a place, like they knew he was somebody even if they didn’t know his name, and tonight was no different. Then, all eyes went right back to Zurie in his arms because he carried her like she was his child.
We checked in fast. Pressure kept Zurie close while I handled the cards, and then we headed up to the room. By the time wegot inside, my arms were aching from all the bags. I set them down with a sigh while Pressure laid Zurie on one of the beds. He moved slow, easing her down like the mattress might reject her if he wasn’t gentle enough. He even pulled the blanket up over her shoulder before slipping into the bathroom without saying a word. A moment later I heard the water running.
I looked at my phone, and saw it was one in the morning. We had four, maybe five hours before we’d have to wake up and head to the hospital. My chest tightened just thinking about it. Zurie’s surgery was right around the corner, and even though Pressure had done everything to make sure she got the best care, my nerves were still jumping.
When the bathroom door opened, steam rolled out and Pressure walked back into the room. He hadn’t changed out of his clothes, just splashed water on his face, and the sight of him like that, calm but carrying a storm behind his eyes, left me at a loss for words. I didn’t know where to start, so I just walked over and sat down beside him on the other bed.
Reaching for his hand felt natural, like something I needed more than he did. I lifted it, pressed a kiss against the back of it, and held it there for a second before whispering, “Thank you for coming.”
His eyes locked on mine, and for a moment I saw the weight in them, the stress he didn’t bother hiding. He looked tired, not in a weak way, but in a way that told me he’d been carrying too much for too long.
“I’m sorry for everything that went down,” I said again, because I couldn’t shake it.
Pressure slid his arm around me and pulled me against him. His voice was low but firm when he answered. “It’s all good. Daddy or not, I wasn’t ‘bout to let no nigga put they hands on you.”
The words sank deep, wrapping around the part of me that had felt unprotected my whole life. I rubbed the side of his face, tracing along his beard with my fingers, then tugged at it lightly like I needed to prove to myself he was really sitting here. My lips brushed against his, soft at first, and he kissed me back. The connection was brief but strong enough to make my body heat up in ways I didn’t want to admit while Zurie was asleep only a few feet away.
“I love you,” I whispered, letting it slip out because holding it in hurt worse.
He didn’t say it back. Instead, he kissed me again, longer this time, then pulled back and said, “Get some sleep.”
It stung. I couldn’t lie to myself about that. But I didn’t push it. All it took was one call and he came for me, no questions asked or hesitation. That counted for something, maybe even more than the words.
Pressure leaned back against the headboard and tugged me with him until my head rested on his chest. He didn’t bother kicking off his shoes. He just pulled me in close like he wasn’t planning on letting me go. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, a rhythm that soothed me in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I wanted to ask him questions, to know how he’d been, and if Kashmere and Ka’mari were still at the estate. But none of it mattered right now, not compared to this. What mattered was the way his arm tightened around me like he was anchoring me in place, the way his chest rose and fell slow, and the way he made me feel like me and Zurie were finally safe.
So I held him back, tighter than I meant to, letting my eyes close. The exhaustion finally caught up, dragging me under, but for once I didn’t fight it. In that moment, I let myself believe we were in good hands.
