Chapter One: Jazari

    I should’ve known better than to let Mariyah talk me into this.

    The Sweet Magnolia Parade and Festival was an annual event in our little Alabama town, and after seeing it every year since we were kids, there wasn’t much left to get excited about. The same floats, the same marching bands, the same crowd of people squeezing in too close for my liking. I could’ve been at home, curled up in my recliner with a glass of wine and the latest release from Major Key Publishing. An anthology called The Games Lovers Play had been sitting on my nightstand for weeks, waiting for me to have a moment to myself. My favorite author, Nadia Nicole, had a story in the book that I was dying to read. But instead, I was here stuck in an oversized sports chair, surrounded by noise, heat, and way too many people.

    The only thing that made this ordeal bearable was the promise of a sausage dog loaded with onions and peppers, followed by a strawberry-topped funnel cake so sweet that it would damn near send me into a sugar coma. That, and the fact that Mariyah would never let me hear the end of it if I bailed.

    “Jaz, isn’t this exciting?” She squealed beside me, practically vibrating in her chair. 

    I forced a smile, “Thrilling.”

    Mariyah either didn’t pick up on my sarcasm or chose to ignore it. She clapped her hands as a shrill whistle cut through the chatter of the crowd, followed by the deep, rolling boom of a bass drum.     

    The parade had begun.

    A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd as people pressed closer to the metal barricades lining the street. Kids perched on their parent’s shoulders, waving tiny purple and gold flags, while vendors weaved through the throng balancing trays of cotton candy, roasted pecans, and snow cones in electric shades of blue and red. The air smelled like summer and indulgence—fried dough, caramelized sugar, and the smoky bite of sausage sizzling on open grills.

    And then came the band.

    The drum majors led the way, their crisp white and gold uniforms practically glowing under the midday sun. Plumes of violet feathers bounced atop their hats with every step. Behind them, the brass section blasted out a vibrant melody, trumpets wailing, tubas thundering sending pulses of sound straight through the pavement. The drumline followed with machine-like precision, their sticks moving in a blur, each beat rattling in my chest.

    The floats rolled in next, massive works of art dripping in glitter and flowers. One, shaped like an old steamboat, paid homage to the town’s deep southern roots. It was complete with performers in period costumes waving lazily from its deck. Another, covered in cascading magnolia blossoms, carried this year’s Sweet Magnolia Pageant winners, their sashes gleaming in the sunlight as they tossed beads and stuffed animals to the eager hands reaching from the crowd.

    Laughter and music swirled together in a dizzying symphony, and despite myself, I felt the energy creeping into my bones. It was infectious, the kind of atmosphere that made it easy to forget your troubles, if only for a little while. 

    Then I saw him.

    The world didn’t just slow. It stopped.

    He stood near a lamppost on the other side of the street, effortlessly commanding attention without uttering a single word. A navy-blue uniform hugged his tall, powerful frame. The fabric was neatly pressed, and the badge over his chest caught the sunlight like a beacon. His tactical vest sat snug against broad shoulders and muscles that I knew were hidden underneath. The weight of his duty belt that holstered a firearm, handcuffs, and other tools of the job did nothing to diminish his commanding presence.

    But it wasn’t just the uniform.

    It was him.

    He had deep brown skin, smooth and rich like he was made at the Hershey’s factory in Pennsylvania. A neatly trimmed beard that accentuated his chiseled jawline led up to a set of full lips that sat in a firm, unreadable line. But his eyes…dark and intense, locked onto me. They rooted me to the spot, stole air from my lungs, and sent a slow, heated shiver curling down my spine. 

    Something unfamiliar fluttered in my stomach.

    My fingers curled around the cool metal of the barricade as warmth spread through my chest. The sounds of the parade faded to a distant hum, replaced by the deafening thud of my own heartbeat.

    He didn’t move, didn’t shift his weight or look away. He just watched me, gaze slow and deliberate as if trying to place me.. or maybe he was trying to figure out why he couldn’t stop staring either.

    Then, after what felt like an eternity, one side of his mouth lifted into a subtle  but knowing smirk.    

    I exhaled sharply, my pulse a wild, erratic thing in my throat.

    And just like that, the world came rushing back. It was loud, bright, and chaotic. The bands blared, the floats rolled on, the crowd cheered and reached for trinkets. But I was still stuck in that moment. I was still rattled by the weight of a look that lasted only seconds. 

    I had no idea who he was.

    But somehow, I already knew he wasn’t going to be easy to forget.