Damaged Petals.

[djp73]

If she drives an Altima stay away

[Soapy]

Skylar about to pop and Brice ain’t even told his people they got another grandchild on the way. Diabolical.

Glad we keeping Brice and Mel friendly, especially in Black History Month

"Another" sent me

He might not be the pappy of the baby

and not a single one of you is just going to claim fatherhood of a bop's kid without a test first

"Brice hasn't told you?" Skylar tilted her head.

he ain't claiming the kid, she knew he hadn't told em. this is diabolical work on Skylar's part to try and push him to accept it. to Skylar

Connie would never

she learned from her friend's mistake

If she drives an Altima stay away

ball knower

[Soapy]

Season 6, Episode 3
The silence gnawed at Brice as he pushed through the front door, tossing his keys into the ceramic bowl on the entryway table. No more of Abdul’s music, no podcast playing as Walter showered, just the hollow echo of his own footsteps against hardwood floors.

Brice dropped his practice bag in the hallway and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the knot that had formed beneath his right shoulder blade. The bathroom light flickered on automatically as he entered. The cold tile against his bare feet sent a slight shiver up his legs as he turned the shower dial to its coldest setting.

When the water hit his skin, he sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. The shock of it washed away the fog of fatigue, if only for a moment. He stood there, letting the cold cascade over his shoulders, down his back, watching as tiny rivers disappeared down the drain.

When he finally stepped out, his skin was flushed pink from the cold. He wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped condensation from the mirror, studying his reflection. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened since the start of camp.

He threw on a sweatsuit and padded barefoot to the kitchen, the refrigerator humming as he opened it, scanning the stack of Factor meals lined up in neat rows. He grabbed the first one and peeled back the plastic cover before sliding it into the microwave.

He collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the cushions as the microwave hummed in the background. His eyelids felt heavy, the quiet of the house settling over him like a weighted blanket. The doorbell's chime cut through the silence like a knife.

Brice's eyes snapped open, a curse forming on his lips as he reached for his phone to check the Ring notification.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, pushing himself up from the couch, yanking the door open just as the microwave beeped in the background.

Neither of them spoke as his father brushed past him into the house, not waiting for an invitation that wasn't coming.

"They’re treating you real fucking well," Tom said, his eyes sweeping over the open-concept living area.

Brice glanced past his father to the driveway, where his father’s truck was parked behind his. He searched for his mother but she wasn’t there.

When he turned back, Tom had already made himself at home in the kitchen. The bag sat open on the counter as his father unpacked its contents: two thick ribeye steaks wrapped in butcher paper and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.

"You can put that microwave shit away," Tom said, not looking up as he continued unpacking.

…

The wind carried the sharp scent of marijuana as Damien cupped his hands around the lighter, sheltering the flame from the evening breeze. Nia leaned in, her face illuminated briefly in the orange glow as she inhaled. The paper crackled, cherry-red embers crawling along the edge of the blunt.

"This is some good ass weed," she murmured, letting the smoke curl from her lips into the cooling air. The park was quiet this time of day, just the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional dog walker on the far path.

Damien pocketed the lighter, his shoulder brushing against hers as he settled back against the picnic table.

"I only smoke that za," he said, trying for casual but not quite hitting the mark.

Nia noticed the slight strain in his voice. She passed the blunt back to him, their fingers touching briefly.

Zack approached from across the grass, hands stuffed into his pockets. He nodded at them both, his gaze resting on Nia. "What’s good?"

She just nodded her head, the weed already softening the edges of her thoughts, making everything feel a little more distant.

Zack pulled a flask from his back pocket, unscrewing the cap and offering it to Nia first.

Damien rolled his eyes. "Don’t nobody want that cheap ass shit."

"Stop being a bitch," Zack said, but his eyes stayed on Nia as she took a swig.

The whiskey burned going down, nothing like the smoothness of the blunt. She grimaced, then laughed at herself. "Holy fucking shit."

"That shit will put some hair on your chest," Zack said, looking pleased when she took another sip before handing it back.

Zack sat down, sandwiching Nia between him and Damian as he began telling a story about his latest run-in with his probation officer. Nia let their banter wash over her, the Xanax from earlier blending with the weed to create a pleasant, floating sensation.

A car horn blared from the parking lot, clearly meant to get their attention which it did. Nia watched as Brian climbed out of the driver's side, Amber emerging from the passenger seat.

"Y’all motherfuckers trespassing and loitering," Brian teased as Amber trailed slightly behind him, "Let me see some ID, motherfucker."

"Fuck out of here," Damien smiled, dapping him up as he stood up. Zack did the same, emptying the bench and leaving Nia by herself.

"What’s up with it, Nia?" Brian asked as they interlocked their index finger, a shared greeting they had slowly formed.

"Enjoying the nice view," she teased, "Before you showed up."

"It ain’t a party without me," Brian cackled, Amber finally joining them. She offered a slight wave to the group and a kiss on the cheek for Nia as she sat down, "What y’all got going on?"

"Just chilling," Damien shrugged.

"We might slide to..." Zack began before Brian interjected.

"I got some business to tend to near Swanson," Brian interrupted without apology, "Y’all rolling?"

…

Brice sliced off the last morsel of his steak, dragging it through the remnant of sauce on his plate.

"They brought in that kid from Georgia Tech that was pretty good," Tom said, taking a small, controlled sip from his tumbler.

"Gill," Brice nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Their corners are all new guys though."

"Should be a good fucking game."

Brice shrugged.

Tom snorted. "Notre Dame in South Bend? That’s the shit you dream about."

"Me and Jimmy talked about it like a couple weeks before," Brice said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them, "Would have been crazy playing against him."

The air between them shifted, charged suddenly with the weight of the name they rarely spoke aloud. Tom's fingers tightened around his glass.

"Yeah," Tom said after a pause. "That would have been something."

"Shit, he could probably start for them at corner this year," Brice found himself smiling despite the ache in his chest. "A White corner for Notre Dame? NIL would have went stupid."

"His house would rival this one for sure," Tom laughed as he refilled their glasses, "You know he almost went to St. Frances?"

Brice's fork clattered against his plate. "For real?"

"Yeah, we thought about it," Tom's voice was flat, controlled. Get him out of South Bend, if only for a year or two, get to experience something else. I don’t know, maybe he doesn’t get hurt if…"

The unfinished thought hung in the air between them. Brice felt a pressure building behind his eyes.

"You couldn’t have known," Brice said softly.

"That's the thing about being a father," Tom looked directly at him now. "You make these choices for your kids, thinking you know what's best. Then something happens, and you spend the rest of your life wondering if you fucked it all up."

Brice swallowed hard, unable to meet his father's gaze. They were talking about Jimmy. They also weren’t talking about Jimmy.

"It makes you vulnerable in ways you can't imagine," Tom continued. "Like your heart is walking around outside your body. And when they hurt…when they hurt, you'd do anything to take it from them, even when you can't."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with words unspoken for too long.

"You can’t run away from that responsibility, Brice."

Brice shook his head, "We don’t know that yet."

"You think she’s lying?"

"I don't know what to think," Brice said, frustration edging into his voice. "I was careful, I think. Obviously, shit happens but Skylar ain’t exactly a one-man show."

"That's fair," Tom nodded slowly. "But that don’t change what might be coming. You need to prepare yourself."

"For what? Being trapped?" Brice scoffed as he took a sip.

"For being a father," Tom said simply.

Brice stared at the empty plate before him. "I can't do this shit, man. Not right now. Not with this season and everything…"

"Life doesn't wait for a convenient time, son."

"What am I supposed to do? Skylar? Really?" Brice pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. "I'm not ready for this. Not with her."

"You weren't ready with Connie either," Tom said quietly, the words landing like a punch.

"That was different," he managed.

"Was it?" Tom leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You were both kids. I get that. Your mother and I…we thought we were doing the right thing."

Brice's throat tightened. They hadn’t spoken about it since that day in the hospital.

"Don't make the same mistake again," Tom said, more command than request.

Brice's head snapped up. "I don’t know if it was a mistake."

"It was. Giving up your child," Tom continued. "I've watched what it's done to you, to Connie, carrying that around. I don't want that for you again."

"You guys were the ones that wanted to take that route," Brice contested, equally trying to convince himself.

"We thought we were protecting you," Tom said as a single tear escaped his eye. "But some things, you can't protect your kids from. Some things they have to face."

Brice said nothing, his mind too cluttered and burdened to think.

"I'm not saying it would be easy," Tom continued. "Nothing worth doing ever is. But whatever happens, just... think about what you really want, who you really want to be, not what seems easiest in the moment."

Brice nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

[Captain Canada]

I know Brice's ass is gonna luck out and its not going to be his baby

[Caesar]

Man wtf. Tom coming in here with this pat on the back shit when his son out here making babies like he grew up in Gary?!

Soapy Perry in full effect also.

[redsox907]

When he turned back, Tom had already made himself at home in the kitchen. The bag sat open on the counter as his father unpacked its contents: two thick ribeye steaks wrapped in butcher paper and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.

time to have that big boy talk youngin

Still think Nia gonna OD or get trained - odds are 60/40 rn

[Soapy]

I know Brice's ass is gonna luck out and its not going to be his baby

Man wtf. Tom coming in here with this pat on the back shit when his son out here making babies like he grew up in Gary?!

Soapy Perry in full effect also.

What does Gary have to do with anything, my brother?

When he turned back, Tom had already made himself at home in the kitchen. The bag sat open on the counter as his father unpacked its contents: two thick ribeye steaks wrapped in butcher paper and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.

time to have that big boy talk youngin

Still think Nia gonna OD or get trained - odds are 60/40 rn

60/40 not bad

[Soapy]

some people post in the final three posts of a page

[Soapy]

im not one of those people

[Soapy]