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Brian was giving his physical therapy his all, and although they kept telling him that he was making progress, he didn’t feel like it. The more he tried to stand and kick his leg the more he started to hate Primo. If he was going to end up shot and paralyzed at the age of eighteen, Brian could have sold drugs himself.
He had declined a life of crime and what the fuck had it gotten him? He needed a plan and he needed one immediately.
He’d thought about telling Dior to choose between him and Breeze the other night when he’d found out who was responsible for shooting him, but he was now glad that he hadn’t. Their friendship just might be the answer to his and Dior’s future.