Page 65 of Cuffed By Your Love
I hadn’t texted her back all day.
Not because I didn’t want to talk, but because I needed her eyes on me when I told her how it went during my hearing with the internal affairs department. I needed to feel her spirit when I said I was good.
Before I even touched the door, it cracked open like she felt me coming. She was barefoot, standing in the doorway in those black leggings that knew too much about my willpower, and that oversized tee that saidDetention Deputy But Make It Divinein faded gold across the chest. Her locs were piled high in a loose pineapple, skin still dewy from a fresh cleanse. She lookedlike bedtime and healing and the calm that rewired a man’s heartbeat.
“You good?” she asked, voice low, eyes scanning my face like she was checking for bruises invisible to the eye.
I stepped inside without a word and slid one arm around her waist, the other behind her neck, and kissed her forehead before she could overthink it. The door clicked shut behind us.
“I’m better now.”
She folded into me like I was the answer she’d been praying for on a loop. Her arms wrapped tight, her fingertips digging into my back like she needed to confirm I was still whole.
“You didn’t text back,” she whispered against my chest, voice small and raw.
“I know,” I murmured, resting my chin on her crown. “I wanted to say it to you face-to-face.”
We drifted to the couch like our bodies already knew how to find comfort in each other. Her legs tangled in mine, her cheek against my shoulder, fingers lightly tracing the veins on my forearm.
“I know. Your mama texted me that you would be fine and not to worry too much,” she said with a small smile. “Meanwhile, Jazz called me to take my mind off it. She already told me she’s picking out bridesmaid colors and calling me sis. Like… immediately.”
I chuckled. “That sounds like her.”
She tilted her head up, brows drawn together. “But what about you? Are you really okay, baby?”
I nodded, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb. “I am. IA signed off on everything. Chambers gave a full statement. A couple of the parents backed me too. They said Kam was acting like he broke out the psych ward and left his meds in the parking lot.”
Jonay snorted. “Not him being prematurely discharged from delusions.”
That made us both laugh, but when it faded, her eyes stayed locked on mine. She wasn’t done.
“Elias…” she said slowly, like the name itself carried weight. “Does this scare you?”
I frowned. “Does what scare me?”
She motioned between us with her fingers. “This.Us. How fast it’s moving. The way I feel about you. The way you see all my mess and still show up like I’m not hard to hold.”
I cupped her face in both hands, my thumbs brushing her cheeks. “What we have isn’t scary, baby. What’s scary is how long I lived without it. You? This? It’s what peace looks like when it finally stops running and lets itself be found.”
Her eyes softened, but they still held that shadow, like her heart was bracing for the floor to fall from under her again.
“And what happens when life gets loud again? When I shut down? When I say some wild shit out of fear or mess around and self-sabotage?”
I leaned in, kissing her—soft lips, deep breath, no rush. When I pulled back, I looked her dead in the eye.
“Then I’ll be right there,” I said, voice low and sure, “reminding you that I’m not afraid of your shadows. I done danced with my own. You don’t have to show up perfect for me. You just have to show up.”
Her eyes shimmered. One tear escaped before she could blink it back. She didn’t speak, just looked at me like I was something she wasn’t sure she deserved but was scared to lose.
So, I kept talking. Because sometimes a man’s job was to speak life into what trauma tried to bury.
“I’m not just here for the good days, Deputy Gorgeous,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the curve of her jaw. “I’m here for the Tuesdays that feel like Mondays. For the days where yourpeace feels out of reach. For the nights when you’re too tired to talk but still wanna be held. Tomorrow doesn’t scare me. It just means I get to choose you again—with more intention, more patience, and more heart.”
Her breath hitched.
“You love me?”
I didn’t hesitate, nor did I blink. “Yeah,” I said, voice heavy, dripping in truth. “And you don’t have to rush the echo just because I spoke it first. If your heart is still picking up the pieces from where life dropped you, I’ll sit cross-legged in the rubble until you ready to rebuild, baby.”
