Chapter 3 #5
“Both,” I said without hesitation, licking my lips again because I couldn’t help myself. “But trust me. You are different.”
She blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t hide the way her chest rose a little quicker. She went back to her ice cream, letting the spoon hover, letting me watch her lips wrap around it again. Her pretty ass knew what she was doing. She was testing me, pushing to see if I’d fold.
Inside, I was folding like the folks’ laundry next door at the laundromat. My thoughts were a mess: how her lips would taste, how soft her skin would feel under my palms, how her walls would come down if she just let me in.
EJ munched happily on his gummy worms, oblivious, until suddenly he piped up. “Miss Pretty, you like my daddy?”
Both of us froze.
She choked on a laugh, eyes wide. “What makes you ask that, sweetie?”
He shrugged, lips sticky with sprinkles. “’Cause you look at him like you want his ice cream.”
Jonay’s jaw dropped, and I damn near spat my drink out. “EJ!” I barked, trying to hold back my own laugh, but it slipped through anyway.
He grinned, proud of himself. “What? You do! And Daddy been staring at you the whole time like he forgot he got his own ice cream.”
Jonay hid her face behind her spoon, but not before I caught the blush creeping up her cheeks.
I leaned in, voice low and smooth. “Outta the mouths of babes, huh?”
She peeked at me, flustered but smiling, her eyes dancing with heat and embarrassment. “Your son needs to mind his business.”
“Nah,” I said, locking eyes with her. “Sometimes he just say what I can’t.”
For a beat, the whole shop faded again. The waffle cone scent, the hum of conversation, the laughter from the counter, all of it blurred. It was just her, me, and this undeniable pull that had me wanting to risk it all.
Then her phone lit up.
One word. Moonlight.
I only caught it for a split second before her thumb flipped the screen over, but the damage was done. Whatever that message said, or whoever sent it, had changed her whole aura. The playful gleam in her eyes dimmed, replaced with something sharp, raw, unsettled.
Her spoon trembled slightly in her hand, clinking against the cup. Her breathing shifted, quick and shallow, as her eyes darted toward the windows, the door, even the booths in the far corner, like she was expecting somebody to come walking through and drag the peace right out of her.
Every nerve in my body snapped to attention. My instincts as a man, as a cop, as somebody who lived through the streets, didn’t play when it came to shit like this.
“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” The words left my mouth before I even thought about them, low and protective, laced with the kind of alertness that meant I was ready to move if she needed me to.
She froze, her hand clenching into a fist around the spoon before setting it down too carefully, like she didn’t trust her own grip. Her lips parted, but the only thing that came out was a quick shake of her head. “Nothing.” The lie rolled off too quickly, too practiced.
“Jonay…” I leaned in, eyes locked on hers, trying to catch whatever she was trying so hard to bury. “Talk to me.”
But she wouldn’t. Her fingers trembled as she shoved the phone back into her hoodie pocket. She forced a smile, thin, brittle, the kind that cracked around the edges.
“I should get going,” she said abruptly, her voice pitched higher than before, legs already shifting under the table. “Thanks for letting me crash your ice cream date.”
EJ’s face fell. “But you just got here—”
She leaned down, kissed the top of his curls, and whispered, “We’ll hang out again, Spider-Man. Promise.” Her voice cracked just slightly, enough for me to hear what she didn’t say.
Then she was gone, the silver bell over the door chiming like an alarm instead of a welcome.
I sat there staring after her, my jaw tight, my gut twisting. The sweetness of the moment was gone, replaced with something sour, something unsettled.
“Daddy?” EJ’s little voice pulled me back. He looked up at me, his brows furrowed. “Why did Miss Pretty leave so fast?”
I forced a smile that didn’t touch the weight in my chest. “She just had somethin’ to do, lil’ man.”
But inside, I was storming.
Moonlight. The name replayed in my head like a warning. Who the fuck was that? And why did it rattle her so badly that she couldn’t even sit still?
I glanced at EJ happily licking sprinkles from his fingers again, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. I smiled for him, but every bone in my body was coiled tight with suspicion and protective rage.
I knew one thing for sure. If her ex or anybody else was behind that text and putting fear in her eyes, they were gonna have to deal with me.
My phone buzzed around 9:47 p.m. as I was laying out EJ’s school clothes, trying not to fall asleep while standing. I glanced at the screen, already expecting Chambers to send another meme or my mom to check if I wanted gumbo on Sunday.
But it was her. Jonay. Well, technically, it said Deputy Gorgeous .
I chose that name for her the moment she entered her number and gracefully walked away, seemingly unaware that I had just been captivated by a pure beauty in uniform.
It wasn’t merely about her polished appearance; it was about the respect she commanded, infused with a subtle yet undeniable admiration that lingered in the air.
Deputy Gorgeous :
I’m working on it.
Short, real, and raw. No emojis and no fluff.
Somehow, it still hit harder than most “good morning” texts I’d ever received.
I stared at it for a solid minute, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Part of me wanted to reply with something deep, something poetic, layered, and filled with warmth.
But another part of me, the part that understood survival, knew she didn’t need all that right now.
She just needed to feel like she wasn’t alone in her silence.
So I sent:
That’s enough for now. Just know I see you.
And I meant it.
The following day, I wasn’t on duty, but I went to the courthouse to drop off some evidence records for Chambers since he was home with a sick Amira.
I wore regular jeans, a black hoodie, and had a fresh haircut with my beard edged up with care.
Because, yeah, grief could be heavy, but presentation still mattered.
Even off-duty, I carried myself like I had purpose stitched into my posture.
I wasn’t expecting to see her. But God had been playing with my timeline lately. There she was.
Jonay walked across the marble floor as if her trauma had no effect on her. Her uniform hugged her perfectly with a badge on her hip, edges neatly styled, and an unbothered energy. But her eyes, still heavy, still human, held onto an invisible weight as if it was paying rent.
She didn’t see me at first, so I just watched, not in a creepy way, but in that “damn, she’s still carrying strength like it’s designer” way. She was talking to another deputy, her voice low but calm. Then she turned, and our eyes locked. Time didn’t freeze, but it did slow down.
She blinked slowly, as if trying to decide whether to walk toward me or away. I gave her the same soft nod I always did. She smirked just enough to be noticed.
“Off duty, huh?” she asked as she approached me, getting close enough to speak clearly.
“I’m trying to be,” I replied. “But the badge doesn’t really come off; it just tucks in.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is, but so is avoiding your own healing.”
That one landed. She looked at me as if she wanted to roll her eyes, but she didn’t, not this time.
“You texted back,” I added, keeping it light.
She nodded. “I did.”
“Didn’t expect it, but I appreciated it.”
“I’m not one for small talk or emotional intimacy through text,” she said, glancing away.
“That’s fine,” I said, leaning slightly closer. “I’m not one for rushing people through their process.”
She looked up at me, her eyes weary and devoid of defensiveness, as if they had seen too much pain. There was a profound sadness in them, a deep exhaustion from enduring heartache after heartache.
“Are you always this patient with strangers?”
“You stopped being a stranger the minute I saw you hurt and didn’t look away, ma.”
That took her breath away. I noticed it in her throat and felt it in the air.
Before she could respond, her radio crackled to life. She took a step back. “Duty calls,” she said.
I nodded, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “Stay safe, Deputy Gorgeous,” I said, using the special nickname that had become exclusively hers.
She paused and looked me directly in the eye. “You too,” she said.
Then she walked away. But she didn’t walk fast. She didn’t walk like she was running from anything. She walked like, maybe, for the first time in a long time, she might want to be caught.
As I finally arrived at Mama’s house, the sun hung low in the sky, resembling a weary traveler who owed the horizon a debt.
Her porch light flickered to life just as I pulled up, casting a warm, golden glow that spilled across the concrete like echoes of childhood laughter and the scent of crumbled cornbread.
The moment I stepped out of the car, she flung open the door, her smile radiant and welcoming, just as inviting as the soft luminescence that enveloped us, drawing me into the comfort of home.
“That sixth sense still working, huh?” I smirked.
“I knew you were outside before you cut the engine,” she said, giving me a hug that stole the breath out of my chest like it always did. “Plus, I made too much gumbo. The spirit told me my baby needed a plate and some words of wisdom.”