Grip Trilogy Box Set

“You’re late is what you are,” her disembodied voice tosses up the hall. “You ain’t been to church in I don’t know how long, barely make it home for Sunday dinner, and when you do come you’re . . .”

Mittie James’ feet stop abruptly at the threshold, but her curiosity leaps into the room ahead of her and seesaws between her son and me. She’s still wearing her church clothes and stockings with her bedroom slippers.

“You’re late,” she finishes, her eyes locked with mine. “Hello, Bristol. This is a surprise.”

I want to look away, but I can’t. A weak smile hangs limply between my cheeks.

“Sorry, I’m late, Ma.” Grip closes the space separating them, scooping her petite frame into his broad chest. “It’s okay that I brought Bristol, right?”

The caramelized eyes, so like Grip’s, do a slow slide from me to her son.

“Of course. Welcome to our home, Bristol.” She smiles politely and starts back the way she came. “Dinner’s ready. Come on.”

“You heard her.” Grip smiles, takes my hand, and turns up the hall, dragging me along. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Hey, wait.” I dig my heels in, making him stop, too. “Was it pumpkin or sweet potato?”

“Babe.” He sighs and deposits a quick kiss on my nose. “Just come eat.”

The small dining room feels full, even though there are only a few people at the table. I’ve met everyone here, but they receive my presence with varying degrees of surprise, curiosity, and animosity. Fortunately, Amir is here, and so is the sweet teacher from Grip’s old high school, Shondra. I’m guessing Jade’s in the animosity camp. Even with her hard, almond-shaped eyes tracking my every move, I feel a tug of sympathy for her. How could I not after what Grip just with- stood? Knowing at such an early age, Jade was violated by one who was supposed to protect her. When I think of all these things, I see Grip finding it in his heart to write a song like “Bruise” as a miracle.

“Here’s another plate.” Ms. James rearranges the place setting by Jade to accommodate me. “Amir, grab that other chair out of the kitchen.”

He jumps up to do her bidding but offers me a reassuring smile on his way. I look at the chair beside Jade, unsure if I should take it or let Grip have it and wait for the one Amir is bringing.

“We don’t bite.” Jade nods her head to the empty seat, her lips twisting derisively. “Sit down.”

I offer her a small smile, which she doesn’t bother returning. I take a deep breath, sit, and try to relax my shoulders.

“Good to see you again, Bristol,” Shondra says, her smile warm and genuine.

“You, too.” I’m so grateful for even that small kindness. “How have you been?”

“Good.” Shondra sips from the glass of iced tea at her elbow. “Kids crazy as ever, but good. Still talking about Grip coming to see them a few weeks ago.”

“It was fun.” Grip leans back and drapes an arm across the back of my seat. I sit up right away, leaving plenty of space between his arm and my back.

“Well, fix your plates.” Ms. James gestures to the table crowded with enough food to feed ten more people. “Nobody serving you here, Marlon. You know how to get your own.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His grin comes easy, and where I’m strung tight, he’s as relaxed as I’ve ever seen him. There’s a comfort, an ease, to him like I’ve never seen.

He’s home.

He stands, stretching to scoop generous portions of everything. I’m about to do the same when he picks up the plate in f

ront of me and replaces it with the full one.

“Here ya go,” he says softly, his smile down at me intimate and affectionate.

He served me.

Oh, God. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels deliberate. He’s expressing something. He’s telling them all, without saying a word, that I’m special to him. I glance around the table, noting the smirk on Amir’s lips, his eyes teasing me. The speculating surprise in Shondra’s glance. The narrow-eyed resentment coming off Jade beside me like a radioactive wave. The disappointment on his mother’s face before she stows it away.

“Thanks.” I muster a smile for him. “You didn’t have to.”

“No problem.” Grip metes out his own portions, sits in the extra seat, and turns his attention to the people still watching us closely. “So, catch me up. What’s been going on?”

His question seems to crack the wall of tension some, and everyone eats and laughs and talks. I dig into the food. I’ve never tasted any vegetable like collard greens. I’m tempted to scoop up what’s left with my fingers and turn up the plate to slurp the juices. Everything tastes so good, and I don’t care if the greens are collard, kale, or Crayola, I want seconds.