Short chapter but still an important one.
Omg it's ending soon I'm so sad.
Maybe a next two chapters and it's finito.
Thank you all once again.
And before you read, how many people actually remembered who Bruce was? Lol. Let me know.

Monet DaSilva

"You did a good thing back there, baby girl," my father rested his hand on top of mine that sat on my lap. "Being the bigger person isn't always easy."

"Oh, trust me. I know." I smirked, looking through my window as we passed through the busy freeway traffic that headed to the airport.

"Now that your conscience is clear, you have to focus on the prize."

"Yeah... I guess." I had gone by to do what I did for Dejounte because I didn't want to feel heavy when I got to Tokyo. Even in doing so, I still left... not feeling like my conscience was as clear as it ought to have been by now.

"I agree with him." Kingsley nodded, with his head buried into his phone. "We're still behind on training, we gotta do as much as we can while we can."

"And still think about health at the same time." My personal doctor said in the seat behind me. With me being at risk with the long flight and the amount of training I was about to have to go through; there was no way that I would've been able to do so without her by my side. "As much as that gold means to you, the babies are far more important. Like I said prior, please aim for the bronze at max. The babies have already gone through enough stress this year."

I rolled my eyes and of course she caught it. "I just want the best for you Monet."

"I am aware but don't try to limit me on how far I can push myself."

"Mo, she's right. You don't want to do anything that could potentially put them at risk. A 14-hour flight alone isn't something that's recommended and that's on top of everything else you've been going through."

"Dad, mom did it. Why can't I?"

"I don't want you killing yourself, trying to be your mother. The stress she put on you nearly caused her to lose you and she wasn't as far along."

"And she also didn't have the medical technology that we have today. I'm going to be fine."

"Hopefully if you listen to instructions." The doctor spoke up again. "I know that you can do it but I'm just requesting that you don't take that risk. That is all, I will be there the whole time for you but I just think it best if you listened to me. I know what I'm saying and why I am saying it."

I sighed and lifted my hand so that my fathers would fall to the side. I reached into my pocket, taking out my phone and putting my headphones in. I then rested my head against the window and shut my eyes. My music shuffled and it went from playing Mariah Carey throwbacks to the song that was dedicated to me, by the one and only.

Automatically, butterflies invaded my stomach. I didn't know why, no matter what I did to try and get him out of my head, it just wouldn't work. I made this decision to cut him off for the right reasons, yet still, here I was feeling so wrong. I didn't understand it.

I quickly switched the song before I got too deep into my feelings and of course it switched over to another one of his favorites; Take Care by Drake. I aggressively popped my headphones out of my ear and groaned. "Are you okay?" my father asked.

"Actually... no. I need you to stop the car." I said, "Stop the car. Please." What was I kidding? There was no way that I could possibly run with all of this on my mind. Fixing things with Myles, telling him about this baby, getting him on the plane with me. "Kingsley, look into getting another ticket. I don't care how much it costs, just get it for me."

I needed him, I loved him and I needed him to know that. No matter what I tried or how much I tried to stay way from him, there was something that just kept pulling me back, something that was there to constantly remind me of him and instead of ignoring those reminders; I was about to listen to my conscience and go make it right.

"Wh..why?" my dad's brows met in the middle, as he looked over at me. "Keep driving, we have to make a flight."

"No... stop, turn this car around."

"Why Monet, what's going on?"

"I have one last thing to do before I get on that flight."

"You said heading to Dejounte's house was the last thing you had to do."

"Well, I forgot. Please can we just turn around."

"And go where?" my driver asked.

"I'll direct you."

"Keep driving." My father spoke again, "Monet, we have to be on that flight in the next hour and a half. Whatever it is that you have to do, has to wait until you get back. Make a call or send a text, do what you gotta do because we aren't turning around."

"If you don't stop this car, I am going to jump out and run to where I have to go and you know I will do it. So, if you were smart you would turn this car around right now." I undid my seatbelt and my driver began to slow down.

"Monet."

"Dad, I'm not playing."

"Fine." He groaned, "exit here and follow her directions. Monet, make sure you have a short cut because we need to-."

"I know, I know." I smirked, "take the exit and take the first right." I quickly sent a text to Leisa, she mentioned to me that they had recently moved so I didn't have the address. Thankfully, with her being on the phone as always, she sent it right away. "Then take your first left!" I said, as I entered it into my GPS.

Baby daddy, here I come.

-

I fixed my hair and applied my makeup as the van pulled up onto the street and began to slow down. I rolled my window down a bit so I could, too look for the number. "1441... 1445." I squinted, trying to see those small ass numbers. "There's his car." I pointed beyond the stop sign we were at. "The one driving into the driveway."

I watched as Myles' car parked and he hopped out, walking around to open up the trunk. A smile crept across my face at just the mere sight of him. Our car crept up the street and I unbuckled my seat belt once again, and reached for the door handle. Just as I was about to open the door open but my dad stopped me. "What?" I asked.

"Look." He said. My brows furrowed and I looked closely. My stomach literally dropped to the floor at the sight of a female, stepping out of the passenger side. A woman that I had never seen before, so I knew it wasn't his family. She took up her purse and their food, I watched as she swayed her hips from side to side, walking right up to his side. She then from what I could see, reached into his sweatpants with her free hand. Right there, right then, in public as if it was nothing. Definitely, not family.

I was disgusted, that fast? Myles, really?

The woman exchanged a few words with him before walking up to the front door, opening it up and walking inside.

"Just go to the airport." My dad commanded the driver. "Now!" we sped off and I sat there in such complete and utter shock. This, this right here is why I didn't believe in that bs called love. "That's why I keep telling you that you need to be focussed, if you were focussed then you wouldn't have to see that. We should be at the airport right now, on a flight to get to your dreams! I swear to God, I'll deal with him when I get back but for no-."

"Don't worry about it dad." It hurt me but I flashed him a quick smile, "I'm good. I'm focused now. I promise."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Myles Thomas

"Yo, help me get the door." I called out to Monica as she climbed out of the passenger side of my car. "The keys in my pocket." Monica reached in and took them out, then walked up to open the door for me.

I carried all my grocery bags inside the house, trying to get as much in as I could in one shot. My fingers felt as if they were breaking off as I ran from the door into the kitchen, placing them on top of the counter. Once, I had gotten them all down, I let out a chuckle of success. "One time for the one trip champ!"

"You know I could've helped you, right?" Monica said, walking in with our drinks in a cup holder and our food from Chick-fil-A.

"No way I'm going to let my guest carry in my groceries, especially if she's a lovely lady like yourself." I licked my bottom lip, "plus, I'm fine. I do this all the time."

"Yeah you may be fine, but your fingers aren't." she pointed out, placing the food and drinks down onto the counter as well. "And you're going to need them for later." She said, with a smirk before she spun on her heels and began to walk through the kitchen to the living room. "This really is as nice as you described it to be."

My phone vibrated and it was Leisa calling me. I normally wouldn't ignore her calls but I knew if it was an emergency she would've called right back. But she didn't.

"Yeah... my moms did do a pretty good job. I added a few touches to it." I said putting my phone back into my pocket. I walked in behind her, pointing out the new paintings that hung above my couch of Tupac and Biggie. "I ended up mounting the TV up as well and using the table it was one for family photos. You know aint no house complete without the throwbacks."

"You got that right," she said as she reached to pick one up, Monica covered her giggles as she ran her finger across an older picture of me. "Fubu crewneck, Yankees fitted and a whole phat farm jacket. I cannot, what did you have on your feet? Timbs?!"

"I been the king of New York."

"Sureee, you were."

"I had hoes all over those school fields, you better talk to me nice."

"My bad boss," she placed the picture back down then continued walking around. "But no word of a lie, I love it in here. It feels real homey."

"I mean, I'm trying. Adding a little dash here and a little dash there. I'm still working but for now, it's better than the basement."

"Don't be dissin the basement." Monica turned, pointing at me. "Not everyone is like you, big boss. Some of us aint have our glow up yet."

"You right, my apologies. Aint nothing wrong with the basement. A lot of good things happened for me down there."

"What kind of things?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Like the first time I laid it down... in the studio that I built in my closet."

"Okay, sure." She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips as she continued her little tour. "Mind if we go upstairs?"

"I don't mind, but it's quite messy and I don't want to scare you away as yet."

"Trust me, I'm sure that I've seen worse but it's alright." She turned towards me and opened her arms. "So, let's just go ahead and get to the real reason why I'm here."

"Let's."

"Where do you want to do this? On the couch, on the floor?"

"Uh, the couch is probably more comfortable."

"You're right, plus it's better for my back."

"Exactly. Gotta think about the arch." I led the way, walking over to my comfy L-shaped couch. I grabbed a seat, moving the pillows to the side. Monica stood before me and began to unzip her sweater, tossing it onto the side of the couch.

Monica plopped down beside me and placed her hand in mine. "Are you ready?" she asked. I took a moment before turning around and looking deeply into her eyes. "Because if you aren't, I will understand. It might be too early. There may be too much emotion involved still."

"Nah, trust me. I'm ready."

"You sure?"

"Positive." I licked my lips as I searched her eyes again. I knew that it was time. I then reached into my pocket to make sure I had it on me. I pulled it out, then placed it into her hand to make sure she knew that we were on the same page.

Monica glanced down for a moment then looked up and smiled. "Let's get to work then." She handed it back to me then retrieved her purse taking out a pen and a notebook. After throwing her purse back to the side she placed the notebook before me, "Write."

"I don't even know where to begin. I haven't done this in a while."

"Get whatever it is off your conscience."

"I know, but I want this song to be perfect."

"Well with a ring like that." She pointed towards the navy-blue velvet box that I had in my hand. "You have no choice but for it to be perfect! Not to mention the fact that we don't have much time, we gotta get in the studio tomorrow morning and finish everything up before you catch your flight to Tokyo at 9 pm." She clapped her hands together, "so enough chit chat, let's get this done!"

"Alright, I may be rusty though."

"All that matters, is you expressing those feelings onto that paper. That is all. Don't worry about anything else. Just focus."

"You're right." I ran my hand across the side of my face then took the pen from her hand and pulled the notebook onto my lap.

I had had a real talk with my father last night and actually took the time to listen to him. For the first time ever we had a conversation and it was about love. I hadn't known this before but he was very much like me, didn't have a father to guide him, his mother tried her best. He went to the army because he dropped out of school early and was homeless at the time.

The army gave him new opportunities and a new meaning to life. It also took away a lot of people from him, even took away his mental stability. He came back messed up and came back to see me, the result of the last time he was in town.

He didn't have time to recover or even try to get used to being back to his new home. Instead he was forced to be a father. All this whole struggling with PTSD.

He had reached out to my mother for help but she was too busy caring for me, her new born baby. He tried to reach out to his brother who just told him he was 'trippin' that men, especially black men don't suffer with those things. That was the reaction most of his family had given him.

My dad revealed to me that he was having a bad day one day. The flashbacks had become too much. My mother stepped out and I was alone with him. I wouldn't stop crying no matter what he tried to do, he rocked me, fed me, changed my diaper but I wouldn't stop.

Back in Iraq he witness babies left for deaf, their parents having them dragged out of their hands. My crying was a trigger. It brought him into a flashback of being back on the field. So, that day when he realized he couldn't help just like how he couldn't help them back in Iraq; he ended up leaving me. Alone in that house until my mother came home.

He drank and drank until the memories faded and when he got home my mother went at his throat. Ambulance had surrounded the place, i was burning with a fever so bad that I could've died.

He immediately sobered up once he realized what he had done. My mother even tried to leave him but he wasn't having it. She was all he had and he was damned to let her go.

My dad never got the help he needed. When he couldn't handle it, he'd drink. My mother never trusted him and he knew it. Every time he tried to reach out to her she would push him away, right into the arms of women that would listen to him for a small fee.

Their bond was ever broken, she claimed to not know who she was when it reality. It was his condition. My father feared to get close to me because he didn't think he'd be a good example to follow, especially since he didn't have an example other than his sergeant.

They made a pact that they'd stay together for me, eventually making Leisa and even Gabby. The more kids they made was the longer their pact extended. With my father still not having control of his condition, suppressing it with nothing but alcohol.

My father told me he made a vow to God a year or so back. That if his son would find it in his heart to forgive him, he would seek help to be better father. Last night was the night and this morning was his first day in rehab.

That moment was enough to inspire me. I hit up Monica right away, after hearing her vocals at the church I knew that I needed her on this track. This track that I was about to use to win back the only one my heart desired. The only one that I saw a future with.

The woman that I wanted to help me fill this house, to complete it.

I smiled at the thought and the moment the tip of my pen hit the sheet of paper, it was as if the words just flowed.