Page 25 of Cuffed By Your Love

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.”

Inside, the air danced with the irresistible aroma of smoked sausage, a delicious blend of Cajun spices and herbs, andseafood. Mama moved gracefully around the kitchen in her beloved mumu, or house dress as she called it, soft and faded from years of warmth, along with her cozy slippers that echoed the laughter of countless evenings spent in her welcoming home. Her vibrant headwrap, filled with brilliant colors, seemed to hold holy secrets woven within each fold. She didn’t ask questions right away; instead, she just slid a bowl across the table and poured sweet tea like it was communion.

“You going to stare at the gumbo or eat it?” she asked.

I chuckled and grabbed a spoon. “I forgot how good it smells in here.”

She sat across from me, stirring her own bowl slowly. “Mmhm. Now tell me why your voice sounds like it’s carrying someone else’s name.”

I paused mid-bite. She didn’t blink.

“Mama…”

“Boy.”

I exhaled deeply and leaned back in my chair. “I met someone.”

Her spoon kept moving. “Is she pretty?”

“Yes,… strong.”

“Which means she is pretty, despite some pain.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.”

“Do you like her?”

“I don’t even know her like that. But something about her makes me want to pray before I text back.”

That caught her attention. She put her spoon down.

“Does she make you feel guilty?”

“No. Just… awake.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s God’s work. Not guilt.”

I looked down at the table and then back at her. “It feels too soon sometimes.”

Mama wiped her mouth and leaned forward. “Let me tell you something. A good woman will humble you. Not because she’s loud, but because she’s still here after what she’s survived. When you meet a woman like that, you have two options: love her right or leave her be.”

I nodded, the words catching in my chest like an unexpected hiccup.

“Is she broken?” Mama asked.