Finding My Way Back to Love 3

Diamond Johnson

Sujets

• Urban Books

Informations

• Publié par: Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC
• Date de parution: 10 octobre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781648540042
• Langue: English

Extrait

Contents



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1. Mustafa Strong

2. Kennedy Strong

3. Emory Strong

4. Mustafa Strong

5. Marcus Gray

6. Kennedy Strong

7. Paris Strong

8. Mustafa Strong

9. Alani Shaw

10. Emory Strong

11. Mustafa Strong

12. Kennedy Strong

13. Marcus Gray

14. Mustafa Strong

15. Duke Strong

16. Emory Strong

Epilogue: Mustafa Strong
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© 2017
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com


All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
1

Mustafa Strong

“M ustafa? Mustafa, what happened, baby? Who the hell was that?” Kennedy asked me and picked up the phone off the floor.
I assumed Logan’s mother was no longer on the phone because Kennedy was still in my face, bombarding me with questions and trying to figure out who I had just got the phone call from. Eventually, she was able to unlock the phone and find out who I was talking to herself once she went through my phone history. It wasn’t that I was purposely ignoring Kennedy, it’s just the simple fact that I was trying to wrap my mind around the piece of information that had just been given to me.
It’s crazy because I was feeling a lot of different emotions right now, but I didn’t have it in me to cry. I was thinking about the fact that Logan was responsible for sending three niggas over to where Kennedy was and having them beat her ass. I thought about the fact that she had played a huge role in Kennedy getting high because she was going down there and dropping off drugs to her. I thought about the last time I saw her and how she told me she wanted to name our daughter Joy. Maybe it was those things running through my mind that caused me not to shed a tear.
I would admit that I was fearful of going down to the hospital because I didn’t want to hear any news about me losing another daughter. Knowing that I needed to man the fuck up in this situation, I stood up from the bed. Since I already thrown on some bottoms, I went over to my dresser so that I could throw on a shirt.
“Mustafa, where the hell are you going? Could you please let me know what’s going on?” Kennedy screamed, holding onto my arm to keep me from walking out the room.
I looked down at her, and I had to admit that she looked beautiful. She stood before me in one of her tank tops, and her small, pregnant belly was hanging out a little bit on the bottom. She had on a pair of lace boy short underwear, and her long dreads were pulled back into a ponytail. Even as beautiful as Kennedy looked, I couldn’t help the fact that I was still very upset with her ass. Even looking at her now, I still had a lot of pent up animosity toward her for fuckin’ that nigga.
For the first time in my life, I could actually say that I was confused as hell on my decision making. This evening, when Kennedy came to the house to drop the boys off, I took one look at her and saw how good she looked. It was as if I couldn’t let her leave out of this house and go on a fuckin’ date with another nigga. A part of me wanted to just forget about that shit and focus on the present and the future with Kennedy, but that was so much easier said than done. I would always love Kennedy, but right now, I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted.
“Kennedy, go get in the bed and stop all that fuckin screaming before you wake up my damn kids! I’ll let you know what’s going on once I get to where I’m going!” I snapped at her.
It honestly wasn’t even her who I was mad at right now, but she was the only person in front of me, so of course, she was going to be the one to feel my wrath. With watery eyes, she walked back over to the bed. I grabbed my keys and my wallet from the dresser, and I quickly jogged down the stairs. Just that fast, I was in my car and on the way to the hospital. The same way I prayed for my daughter seven years ago after she had been shot is the way that I was in the car right now praying for this one.
Since it was literally in the wee hours of the morning, no one was really on the road, so I was able to make it to the hospital within ten minutes or so. I tried to avoid coming to hospitals at all cost because I just hated the way they smelled. This hospital, in general, I hated because it was the same hospital where I lost Joy.
After finally going to the receptionist who was sitting behind the desk, I was able to hop on the elevator and find out what the hell was going on. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I was met with loud cries that I knew belonged to Logan’s mother. I didn’t really have any beef with Logan’s mother because, at the end of the day, I didn’t know her like that. We met a handful of times throughout Logan’s and my relationship because Logan always said her mother was working.
As soon as she saw me, she quickly jogged over to me and collapsed in my arms. I held her up so that she wouldn’t fall. I wasn’t a hateful nigga, and as much as I wanted to push her ass off me so that I could find out what was going on myself, I didn’t have it in me to do that shit. This woman had just lost her only daughter, so I knew exactly what she was going through right now. She cried on my chest for about a good five minutes or so, and I rubbed my hand against her back in a circular motion, letting her know that everything was going to be alright.
When I only heard light sniffles coming from her, I removed her from me and looked down at her because I was trying to piece together what the hell was going on.
“Please let me know what’s going on,” I said, and she nodded her head up and down while wiping her face at the same time.
“Luckily, Logan had been staying with me for a few weeks now, so I was home with her when all of this happened. She came in my room yesterday afternoon saying that her water had burst, but I knew that couldn’t be right because she was nowhere near her due date. I sat up on the bed, and once I got a good look at her, I knew that she was right about her water bursting. The whole way to the hospital, she was crying because she was in so much pain. She gave birth to your baby girl last night, and they have been working on her ever since,” she said, and she started crying again.
“She didn’t even get to hold her own baby for five minutes because the nurses quickly took the baby out of the room so that they could work on her. Not even a whole hour later, looked over at my own daughter and noticed that she had stopped breathing. My baby girl is gone.” She started crying again.
I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but from the sound of things, they had been in this hospital since yesterday afternoon. So why wasn’t I called in at that time? Why wait until Logan dies and after my child had been born to call a nigga up?
“With all due respect to you, Ms. Ortiz, why the hell wasn’t I called to watch my baby come into this world? You just said that her water had burst at your house yesterday afternoon. Why wasn’t I given a phone call then? Why did you wait to call me this late, after everything had already happened?” I asked her.
I could already tell that what was about to come out of her mouth was going to be some bullshit. I could tell by the way her body tensed up and how she put her head down.
“Logan was upset with you, and when I went to retrieve her phone to call you, she told me not to. She said that something went down between the two of you when you last saw her, and because of that, she didn’t want you there while she gave birth to the baby,” her mom said.
All I could do was suck my teeth and shake my head at that bullshit. There was so much hurtful shit that I could say in that situation, but I chose not to. Mainly because Ms. Ortiz would literally try to kill a nigga if I said the fucked up shit that was dying to come out of my mouth. My ol girl taught me a long time ago that if I didn’t have anything nice to say, then I didn’t need to say anything at all, and that’s exactly what I did by walking the fuck away. Not only did she teach me that, but she also taught me a long time ago that God had a funny sense of humor, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what she was talking about all these years.
Logan thought that she would get the last laugh by being spiteful and not allowing me to be in the room while she gave birth to my baby girl, but God was actually the one who had the last laugh.
As mad as I wanted to be with Logan, I still manned up and pushed my pride aside to walk into her hospital room so that I could see her. I wasn’t afraid of seeing Logan dead because, in my years on this earth, I’ve seen some shit that a lot of people couldn’t stomach. I had to be no older than nine years old when I saw my first dead body. The