Chapter 7 #4
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 your peace 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.”
She didn’t say a word, just climbed into my lap, arms wrapping around my neck, tears spilling silently and steadily.
I held her like the answer had been in my arms this whole time.
She buried her face in my neck, voice muffled. “Damn, Elias.”
“Nah,” I whispered, mouth grazing her ear. “Damn, you.”
She leaned back just enough to meet my gaze. “I’m yours.”
I brought our foreheads together, both of us breathing slowly in sync like we were memorizing the moment.
“Already, lil’ baby,” I murmured. “And I been yours.”
I didn’t even realize how tense my body was until she touched me. Not in that quick, familiar way people pat you on the back after you survive a storm.
No.
Jonay touched me like she was untying knots with her fingers and pouring comfort straight into my bones.
After everything with Kam, after IA, after being watched, questioned, and judged, I needed this.
I just didn’t know it until she pulled me by the hand into the bathroom and whispered, “Let me take care of you tonight, baby.”
The bathroom smelled like calm with a heartbeat, lavender curling through the steam, sandalwood humming low, and sweet orange floating in the air like sunshine exhaled.
Steam curled around us like it knew what we were there to do, not sex, but something more intimate. Something deeper. Something that didn’t always have a name.
The tub was already filled. It was milky with her homemade soak, a blend of oatmeal, honey, and a few dried rose petals that floated like little pieces of beauty. A wooden tray stretched across the top holding a candle, a clean rag, and a small bottle with a handwritten label:
“Stillness – infused with vanilla, bergamot, and unbothered energy.”
She turned to me, eyes soft but firm. “Take your shirt off.”
I didn’t ask questions, just obeyed.
She stood behind me and slowly pulled my shirt off, as if every inch of skin she revealed deserved its own moment. Her hands ran over my shoulders and down my back, like she was relearning me after a war.
“You carry so much,” she whispered, fingertips tracing my spine. “And you don’t even flinch.”
“I’m built for it,” I murmured.
“Built doesn’t mean you’re unbreakable, Elias.”
Then she helped me step into the tub. The water enveloped me, warm and thick, like comfort in liquid form. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. My head leaned back, and my eyes closed.
The next thing I felt was her hands.
She knelt behind the tub, dipped the rag in the water, then ran it over my chest, slow, intentional, not missing a spot. Her touch wasn’t rushed or shy. It was womanly. Confident. Bold. Like she knew she had every right to be there.
“You’re always taking care of everybody else,” she whispered, voice honey-slow. “Let somebody take care of you for once, baby.”
She poured a little of the oil in her hands, warmed it between her palms, and then rubbed it into my shoulders. Deeply. Smoothly. She massaged every knot like she had a personal vendetta against my stress.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her lips gently brushing against my ear. “I need you to know that I’m grateful for you—for your presence, your patience, and the way you see me even when I’m trying to hide.”
The oil sank into my skin, leaving behind a glow that wasn’t just from the candlelight. She worked in silence for a while with only the sound of the water and my quiet breaths as she traced every curve of my body, like she was learning me all over again.
When she stood and moved around to face me, I opened my eyes. Her locs fell loosely now, free from the wrap. Her face was soft, her lips glistening, and her eyes were full of affection, speaking volumes without words.
“Come here,” I whispered, reaching out.
She leaned over, and I pulled her into a slow kiss, wet and open-mouthed, without pressure. It was just about being present. Her hands cradled my face while mine gripped her waist. We weren’t rushing; we were remembering.
She stepped back to remove her clothes.
I was already floating somewhere between stillness and supplication, water hugging my body like it knew I needed rest, when she slid in behind me, soft and slow, like the answer to a prayer I didn’t even speak out loud.
I didn’t look at first. I just felt it. The way the temperature shifted. The soft ripple her thighs made as they broke the surface. The floral, faintly citrus scent of her skin danced with the vanilla oil she’d just rubbed into mine.
She didn’t rush.
Jonay settled behind me with a quiet exhale, her knees bending to straddle my waist beneath the water, her breasts pressing softly to my back, her arms wrapping around my chest like a silk robe tied just right.
Her breath brushed the nape of my neck, and her hands moved slowly, fingers gliding across the slick sheen of my skin.
“I got you, baby… Relax,” she whispered, lips grazing my shoulder.
I closed my eyes.
Her hands moved with a rhythm, no hurry or pressure, just gliding over my body like she was reacquainting herself with a man she’d already claimed. She reached for the soft cloth on the tray, dipped it in the water again, and brought it to my chest.
“You don’t always have to be hard to be strong, Elias,” she murmured.
She ran the cloth over me as if she were bathing away every burden I had carried for far too long. My throat tightened. This wasn’t just a bath; it was a ritual, a declaration.
Her lips found my shoulder again, then moved to the back of my neck, and finally to just below my ear. Each kiss was softer than the last, each one whispering, “Stay.”
She slid her hand between my chest and the water, warm fingers finding their place over my heart like they’d been searching for it all along.
“You do so much for me, baby,” she murmured, her voice low, almost shy. “For EJ. For my peace. You think I don’t notice, but I do.”
The steam curled around us as she pressed her palm deeper, like she could send her gratitude straight into me through skin.
“This right here,” she continued, rubbing slow circles over my chest, “isn’t just a bath. This is me taking care of you… ’cause you take care of everybody else without even thinking twice.”
I covered her hand with mine, holding it in place. Her eyes stayed locked on me, soft, steady, and sure.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of my mouth. “And I need you to know how much I appreciate you, not just for what you do, but for who you are.”
I turned slowly, water lapping against the sides of the tub as I shifted to face her. Her eyes held steady, wide and full of emotion, no fear, no hesitation. She was already mine, even before the words had names.