Page 74 of Cuffed By Your Love
He washed me, hands slow, respectful, but intimate. Like he wasn’t just washing my body. He was removing the residue of every time I settled, every time I doubted I was worth this level of care.
Then he dried me off, lotioned me down with shea butter and my vanilla butter, and helped me into bed. He tucked me in like I was a precious doll.
He leaned over, kissed my forehead again, then my lips. “Your pretty ass needs to get some rest. I’ll lock up. I’ll see you soon, baby.”
And just like that, he was gone. I sat in my room with my heart full of contentment. I grabbed my journal off my nightstand and logged in a new entry.
July 17th, 10:42PM
My heart has been talking louder than my fears lately. Tonight—it screamed.
Tonight—something shifted.
It wasn’t just the fireworks. Or his mama telling me I made him smile again, like joy hasn’t been a regular in his house for years. Nah, it was deeper than all that.
It was the way Elias looked at me when the sky split open—like God had personally lit that fuse just so he could memorize my face in technicolor. Like I was something rare, worth marveling at. Like I was his peace in a world that doesn’t even apologize when it breaks men like him.
It hasn’t even been that long. We are still learning each other’s favorite snacks and middle names and childhood regrets. But somehow… it feels like I’ve been knowing him through every lifetime my soul had to survive just to end up in his arms under that Self Ridge sky.
Elias isn’t perfect—but damn, he feels permanent.
He feels like Sunday after a storm. Like soft jazz and smudged lipstick. Like redemption withtattoos and a badge and a voice that sounds like it was brewed in between God’s thunder and a slow jam. He moves like protection and talks like poetry wrapped in street smarts. And when he laughs—it feels like I did something right in a past life just to be able to hear it now.
And Lord knows… trust isn’t easy. Not after Kam. Not after having my spirit cracked open and poured out, just for someone to sip from it and spit it back at me like it was bitter. Not after questioning my worth based on the way somebody mishandled my love like it came with a damn return receipt.
But Elias, he didn’t ask for my trust—he earned it without even trying.
He shows up. Steady. Real. Present. Even when I get quiet and hard to read. Even when I’m still half-healing and low-key scared to admit how bad I truly want him.
He’s different.
He isn’t the storm I have to escape. He is the storm—and I don’t want to hide from him. I want to let him wash over me, flood all the dry places Kam left behind, and rebuild whatever he wants to plant there. ’Cause whatever is growing between us? It feels like flowers sprouting from grief. Like peacelearning how to bloom with a lil’ hood edge and holy protection.
He has weight in his spirit, but he still makes space for mine. He has never tried to shrink me or silence me. Just held me like I was both fragile and fireproof. Like I could burn everything down and still be worth rebuilding.
And when he kissed me tonight?
Whew.
Baby, that kiss under that Self Ridge sky, with all those lights crackling like the universe was throwing confetti just for us? That kiss made me forget Kam’s name. Made me remember what it felt like to feel safe inside somebody’s arms with good intentions. It didn’t feel like a goodbye to the past—it felt like a front porch to a brand new life.
It was slow. Sacred. A whole psalm written in pressure and breath. I haven’t felt that seen in years.
I’m finally able to admit it—I love him, not just the idea of him or the fragile hope of love, but him in all his truth.
It isn’t a fantasy I’ve built in my head; it’s the man in front of me, with his flaws, his pain, his past, his boy, his grief, his grit, and the softness hereserves only for me and EJ—I love all of it, all of him.
I really, truly love this man, and though part of me wonders if I’m a fool, if I’m moving too fast or feeling too much, another part of me knows it doesn’t matter.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not scared to say it, not afraid to claim what my heart already knows.
I love him, I really do.
—Nay
The cityalways sounded different at night, like even the concrete had secrets it only whispered when the moon was out. I was parked outside Mama’s house, engine humming, hands still gripping the wheel even though I should’ve been inside by now. But my thoughts were louder than the cicadas and the wind combined, like the silence between my fears and me was yelling in a voice only my soul could hear.
I stared up at the porch light, flickering softly like a memory trying to hold on. That light had been on since I was a boy. I remembered standing under it on prom night, tux too tight, palms sweating, Mama taking pictures with the disposable cameras she kept in her purse like peppermints and bail money. She had always been the heartbeat of this house. Strong. Steady.Sweet when she needed to be. Steel when she didn’t. She was the woman who could hush a room with a look and raise a man with just her prayers.
