Needy Little Things(63)

“I have good news,” Jude whispers.

“We could all use some of that. What’s up?” I pick at my cuticles, then ball my hands into fists to hide the crusty remnants.

“My aunt Naomi found a job.” He grins. “She starts next week.”

“Really? That’s great! Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will.” He ruffles his curls and adjusts his glasses. “But I haven’t told you the best part.”

“Go ahead, then.” I resume mission destroy cuticles.

“It’s all thanks to the business card you gave her.”

“For real? I was betting she’d use it to pick food out of her teeth. What’s the job?”

“Manager at the Wilhem Hotel.”

All the muscles in my body tense. “Which Wilhem?”

“The one downtown.”

I laugh out loud. Even harder as the confused expression spreads across Jude’s face.

“What?” He smiles a little, eager to be in on the joke.

I continue to laugh and he shushes me, warning that I’ll wake my brother.

“Sorry. Let me make sure I have this right. I gave your aunt a business card for the Wilhem Hotel?”

“Yes?”

“Figures. That’s what I get for not looking at it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I wish I didn’t do that stupid favor for you. I wish your aunt didn’t get that job.”

He shrinks away from me. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing. No problem at all. We’re just sitting here in the hospital while my brother gets a freaking blood transfusion. Oh, and Deja is still gone. Tessa is still gone. Danny is still dead.”

He turns his palms up. “I know. But you just said you could use a little good news? I’m confused. I thought you’d be glad. You helped someone.”

“You thought I’d be glad,” I sneer. “Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you? How could you know I’d give her the business card to my mother’s place of employment? How could you know they’d fire my mom and hire your aunt in the same position? Nah, that’s one hundred percent my fault. It’s my fault because I didn’t listen to my gut. It’s my fault for thinking I have to do every little thing people ask of me. Because I told you—” I clench my jaws to keep my building rage inside me. Where it belongs. “I told you I didn’t want to do it. I told you I don’t do those sorts of favors for friends because it always, always backfires somehow. I ignored my gut because you said please.”

“Sariyah, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say. I’m sure there’s some other…” He trails off and says sorry again.

“Don’t be.” I scoot my chair closer to Josiah’s bed. “I am not lying to you when I say the only person I’m angry at is myself.”

“But you shouldn’t be. All you do is try to help people.”

“Jude?”

“Yeah?” His chocolate eyes are big and sad and hopeful.

“Can you leave?”

“Sariyah. Come on.”

“Please. Seriously. Can you go? I’m not angry with you, but I want to be alone.”

He doesn’t move. He just sits there, gaping at me.

My sinuses burn as I hold back an ugly torrent of emotions. “Jude, please go.”

“What about him?” He points at Malcolm, still asleep on the couch.

“He’s family.”

His face crumples, and I know he hears it in my voice. Sees it in my face. The meltdown that’s about to come. I know it hurts him that I’m pushing him away right now. But he stands, grabs his jacket, and leaves without a word.

I pull the neck of my hoodie over my face and cry into my chest.





CHAPTER 27





Malcolm and I meet at a coffee shop for an extra early breakfast before heading back to the hospital to visit Josiah. He complains about his neck and back every few steps on the walk over.

“What are you, sixty?”

He does a dramatic shoulder roll. “Sixty? Your mama’s knees sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies at forty.”

“Your mama? Really, Malcolm?”

“What? I feel a way about you letting me nap on that small ass plastic couch last night.”

I drop my head, done teasing him. He stayed with me until visiting hours ended. “You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sips his iced matcha latte. “But do you remember Jojo’s face when he saw me? I’m nothing without my fans.”

I shove him. “Shut up. Are you going to school after this?”

He contorts his face, getting another whiff of his favorite mystery foul substance. A silent What you been smoking?

We stop at an intersection with a bunch of people in business attire waiting to cross the street. I frown as I’m assaulted by needs. Safety goggles. Button. Post-it notes. Pillowcase. I fulfill a few while a woman jabbers loudly on her phone. Malcolm glares at her after she releases a boisterous cackle directly into his left ear.

“People in this city are rude as hell,” she says into the phone, eyeing Malcolm right back.

Malcolm points at her and looks to me for confirmation that she is, in fact, the rude one.