Page 19 of Cuffed By Your Love
I shook my head, chuckling, because this negro was ignorant as fuck. “Nobody. I just… met someone. Briefly.”
“Briefly?”
He raised an eyebrow like I just said I had lunch with Beyoncé but didn’t ask for a picture.
“She was at the hospital. Her mom was in a drunk driving accident. I assisted with the call.”
“Oh, so now you’re Captain Save-A-Mama?” he joked.
I didn’t laugh. Instead, I sat on the bench with my elbows resting on my knees.
“She just looked like she was trying to hold herself together. Something about her reminded me of the old me, the one before the badge felt like a casket.”
Chambers looked at me, his expression now serious as he let out a heavy sigh. “That’s deep. But also sounds like somebody got your attention.”
“I’m not looking for anything, man.”
“Maybe not. But sometimes, the thing you need has your name on it before you even see it coming.”
I stayed quiet for a second too long, and he jumped on it.
“Aha! I knew it. What’s her name? Let me guess. Trina? Nia? Does she have locs? Big hoop earrings?”
“Jonay Jacobson.”
He froze mid-uniform adjustment. “Hold on… Jacobson? You’re talking about that detention deputy who works at county intake?”
I looked up. “You know her?”
“I know of her. Everybody does. I hear she’s solid, always in a good mood, positive attitude, doesn’t play around, doesn’t smile unless it’s real, and she doesn’t take any crap from inmates or officers. Her twin goes upside people’s heads for her. What did you do? Save a puppy in front of her or something?”
“Nah,” I mumbled. “I just saw her when she didn’t feel like being seen.”
He leaned back against the locker like he was contemplating my future. “Is she pretty?”
“Hell the fuck yeah.”
“Is she funny?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Is she damaged?”
I paused. “Shit, aren’t we all?”
Chambers gave me that look: half “You’re right” and half “Boy, you’re going to fall if you keep standing near ledges.”
“Well, don’t mess it up if God slid her number across the bar of your grief.”
“I don’t even have her number.”
He blinked. “Then what the hell are we sitting here talking for? Go get it, Mr. Cocoa Butter and Closure!”
I smirked, zipped up my jacket, and stood.
He clapped my shoulder as we headed out. “Real talk, though. When you’re ready, love doesn’t need an invitation. It’ll show up unannounced, bring groceries, and unpack your trauma before you even blink. Damn sure happened to me.”
Did this nigga just admit to being in love with my sister? I’d touch on that later, but it wasn’t like I didn’t already know the shit.
