I was beyond exhausted. I had just woken up from my sleep but felt incredibly tired; I felt like I could get up if I tried. Everything was so draining to me. Vincent was sleeping next to me, his arm wrapped around my waist. He's so beautiful; this nigga is three centuries older than me, and his skin is flawless and soft; he's always so cold, but when he touched me that time, he was warm.

My hands caressed his face softly, so I didn't wake him up. I kissed his cheek and thanked him in his head. He's my everything.

His hand reached out and grabbed my wrist; I gasped. "You're awake?"

Vincent kissed my wrist softly. "You're my everything too, A'roya. I love you."

I smiled softly. "I love you too," I whispered.

"You can not do that to me again," Vincent said with concern, but I only kissed his forehead.

"When you touched me," I started. "You were warm. You're always cold; what happened?"

"The mate bond will do anything to protect you because I love you so much. If you die, I'll die."

"Vincent, thank you," I whispered.

"Sleep, A'roya, just rest."

I must have slept for hours; it was a whole other day when I woke up. Vincent wasn't near me, but Loki was. I smiled; Vincent had hidden Loki for months; I was getting worried; Vincent doesn't feed this cat. I'm hoping he's supernatural too.

"Hello, Loki!" I squealed, picking up the cat and setting him on the toilet while I brushed my teeth. He liked looking at me brush my teeth.

He's a cat.

I took him to the kitchen. To my surprise, Vincent was in the kitchen, burning things.

"Vincent?"

He groaned. "Oh shit," he mumbled to himself.

I giggled. "What are you doing, fool?"

"I'm trying to cook, so you don't ask for fucking Mcdonald's or Starbucks."

"Well, too bad, cause I want Wendy's,"

Vincent glared at me as I smiled widely, with Loki in my arms. "A'roya."

"Baby, please," I begged.

Vincent groaned, picking up his phone as I smiled in victory. "See, Loki, Vincent can't resist me."

"I'm only doing this because I burnt everything in the kitchen, dumbass."

I rolled my eyes. "Ok, not too much, Vincent."

"Ok, not too much, Vincent," he mocked.

"Real mature of you."

"Real mature of you."

"Oh really–"

"Oh really–"

"You know what," I grabbed a wooden spoon and started chasing him around.

"Chill out, A'roya." He laughed, jumping over the chair.

I calmly climb over the chair, not risking breaking my feet. Vincent laughed even harder. "Come get some, grandma."

"Nigga." I said demeaningly. "Just order my Wendy's."

Vincent narrowed his eyes at me, and I laughed. "Please, baby, my Pookie, my heart, my love, my ass cheek, my–"

"Enough, I'm ordering it."

I kissed his cheek. "Thanks, sugar daddy."

Vincent scrunched his face in disgust. "Disgusting ass."

I blow him a kiss.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Everything was perfect; I even forgot about the Court decision yesterday. Vincent was doing a great job of distracting me; he took me to the mall, the zoo, the aquarium, and Six Flags. I was having fun, and we came back home, and we started talking about our future.

He got me a ring, I'm engaged, and it hasn't been a month since I divorced....is it too soon?

I love him so much; he's done so much for me. I haven't done anything, yet he's so obsessed with me. I love him and Loki.

"If we have a son first, what would you name him?" I asked.

"I don't fucking know; I would leave that to you, but if we have a daughter, I would name her A'rayia."

I giggled as he kissed my cheek. "You're insane."

"Insanely in love with you," he mumbled into my neck.

"We're not naming our daughter after a variation of my name."

"Yes, we are."

"Fine, then our son's name will be Theodore."

"Oh, hell no. You're not serious."

"Yes, the fuck I am. I love the name, Theodore."

"It's a white name."

"Nigga, you're white."

"You're not, so our son wouldn't just be white; he'd be black too."

"I don't care," I whined. "I like Theodore, and that's what I'm going with. Try me, Vincent."

"Ok, alright, damn."

"I love you, though," I laughed.

His hands went under my shirt, and I knew what was about to happen, but then I got a call.

Unknown.

"Don't answer it," Vincent said, playing with my nipples and sucking on my neck. I didn't; I hung up. Vincent threw my shirt off of me, and then my phone rang again. "Ignore it," he groaned.

"It's Phoebe," I whispered, and he pulled away, groaning and whining like a kid.

"Hello?" I answered.

"A'roya," Phoebe sobbed.

My eyes widened. "Why are you crying? Where's Jericho?"

"He's in the hospital, accidental overdose. They're pumping it out right now,"

My heart pounded out of my chest. "What?"

"Jericho, he took an extra dose of Xanax and passed out; I found him, foaming at the mouth–oh, god."

"Calm down, Phoebe; I'm coming." I hung up, wiping the tear that made its way out of my eye.

"What happened?" Vincent asked.

I shook my head. "Vincent, it's Jericho; we need to go to the hospital, please."

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

"Phoebe, what happened? How–?"

"He–his leg, it was an anxiety attack. I told him to calm down and to take his prescribed medications. I had no idea he'd be overdosing. It's because of me," Phoebe wept. "I'm so sorry. If I wasn't stressed, Jericho's anxiety would've never reached this level.

"It's not your fault," I whispered, hugging her. "Vincent, can you call Elora here."

"No, I don't want to bother her."

"You haven't bothered anyone, far from it. You keeping this from Elora will bother her."

Phoebe nodded. "Ok," she sniffed, wiping her tears as I led her to a chair.

Elora was on her way here with Khascian, and Phoebe was a little calmer; she blamed this on herself for noticing his serious overdosing. I don't know if Jericho was addicted. He only overdosed when his stress or anxiety was too much to deal with.

He's a veteran on an honorable discharge and a fireman; he has scars, battle scars. He pretends to be ok, but he's not, and he never got the real help that he needed. He can't die. Phoebe needs him, and his daughter needs him. I need him, god damn it; he's my brother and the only family I can see.

Vincent kissed the top of my head. "He's going to be okay; calm down, don't think just–fuck, I don't know how to do this."

I smiled. "I love you."

"I love you more."

Jericho isn't going anywhere, not while our mother lives happily, abusing our siblings.