Page 12 of You Deserve Good Things

The Fear of Love

Jacory’s words sat heavy in my chest, clinging to me like they had roots—roots with memories, promises, and prayers tangled up in ’em. Like they’d dug in deep, takin’ up space where my pain had once lived.

“This time, baby, I’m not letting you go.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I did. But believing?

Believing meant letting go of the fear. And fear?

That bitch had moved in, redecorated my insides, threw up curtains of doubt, and laid carpet made of grief.

It didn’t just settle—it nested. Like a crow on a wire, watchin’, whisperin’ lies: You don’t get forever.

You barely got now. You ain’t worthy of what you lost.

Especially Silas.

My grip on the steering wheel turned into a death hold.

The plastic groaned beneath my fingers—crick, crack, pop—like even it was begging me to let go.

My heart? It was acting a damn fool, slamming against my ribs like it was running from something Boom-boom.

Boom-boom . Each beat a scream, a memory, a regret.

I should’ve left. My foot hovered over the gas pedal, but I stayed planted like my car had turned into a confessional booth and I couldn’t drive away until I came clean. But clean was never something I felt. Not since that night.

Behind me stood Jacory, not just a memory, not just a boy with a smile that could light up the darkest corner of my spirit. A man now. Solid. Steady. And still staring at me like I hung the damn moon.

His love had grown like wild ivy—wrapped around your ribs and bloomed even when you neglected it.

It had patience. Strength. And fire. But I didn’t know if I was built to be loved like that.

I didn’t know if I was still made of the right kind of steel, or if I was just shattered glass held together with invisible tape.

I didn’t even know I was cryin’ till I caught myself in the rearview mirror. My eyes were swollen, bottom lip quivering, cheeks streaked with tears like little roadmaps of pain.

Brrrrt-brrrt.

My phone vibrated so loud, I jumped. It was like it slapped me outta my spiral.

Of course, it was Daniale.

I picked up like I was ready for the sermon she had loaded in her throat.

“Bitch, you better not be sittin’ in that car lookin’ like a bootleg Lifetime movie extra!”

I sniffed. “Hi to you too.”

“Don’t ‘hi’ me, ho. You saw him, didn’t you? You saw Jacory?”

“Yeah . . .”

“And now you sittin’ in your car cryin’ like somebody canceled Girlfriends mid-season? Girl, get the hell outta here.”

I wiped my nose, shaking my head. “I walked out before I could say something stupid.”

“Oh, so you did somethin’ even stupider. Cool. Love that for you.”

“Dani—”

“Nah, I’m talkin’. You sittin’ there lookin’ like a Fantasia lyric come to life. That man would gargle hot sauce just to hear you say his name. He’d swallow glass and chase it with your tears. He would write odes to your elbows if you let him.”

I wheezed a laugh. “You are nasty and dramatic.”

“I’m honest, and you are lucky to have me. You over there stuck in a thought spiral while he sittin’ in that bookstore looking like a renaissance sculpture dipped in chocolate dreams, wondering why his soul just walked out the door.”

The silence on my end said it all.

“You love him, Shaniya. I know it. He knows it. Hell, strangers on the internet know it. But you convinced yourself love means losing. That if you let him in too close, he gon’ disappear like everybody else you’ve buried in your heart. But, girl . . . he’s not a ghost. He’s your anchor.”

I blinked fast, tears falling again. “You think I deserve him?”

“Bitch. Yes. You deserve a man who would fight off a swarm of wasps just to warm up your car. You deserve forehead kisses, real apologies, and deep-fried loyalty. And Jacory? He been ready. Since y’all was sharing Capri Suns and chubby crushes.”

I full-on laughed. Chest shook. Pain cracked open just enough to let air in.

“He don’t even see nobody else. He acts like you are the last Wi-Fi bar on a damn airplane and his soul got five tabs open.”

“ Stop .”

“I will not. You left that man on read for four years and now you are scared to press ‘reply.’ Sis. Either go see him or start a YouTube channel about heartbreak and herbal tea.”

“Okay, damn.”

“Nope. Don’t ‘okay, damn’ me. I already texted him. Told him where you are gon’ be. If you got any parts of your ovaries intact, you better walk in that café like it’s a courtroom and you pleading your case for love.”

“Wait. You what?”

“Oh, don’t act brand new, baby girl. Pull up, or I will pull up for you.”

Click.

The café smelled like cinnamon wishes and caramel warmth. Soft jazz played like the room had a pulse, and my nerves? They were doing backflips in combat boots.

I tucked myself into the farthest booth, cappuccino untouched, staring at the door like it held my fate. Every time it creaked open, my breath hitched.

Then he walked in.

Jacory.

Tall like truth. Built like answers. Brown skin glowing like dusk loved him. His chain glinted like a promise, and his walk? A smooth glide that said, “I been looking for you.”

He spotted me. No hesitation. Just that slow, syrupy smirk.

He slid into the booth across from me like we had unfinished poetry to write.

“Hey, beautiful. You really thought I wasn’t gon’ come, my love?”

My heart thudded so loud I swore the windows heard it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

He leaned forward, takin’ my hand like he was reminding me what safe felt like.

“Then you don’t know me like you used to, baby.”

“Why . . . why didn’t you hate me?”

He exhaled, stood up. My chest clenched—till he slid next to me, arms already wrapping around my waist like home.

“Because I love you. I never stopped. Not when you left. Not when I wondered why. I didn’t just love the girl—I love the woman. The one who still shows up even after life knocked her down. You have been stuck in my spirit like a Sunday hymn.”

Tears blurred my vision. He turned to me, his thumb catching each one.

“My love for you ain’t some teenage dream. It’s real. It’s loud. It’s got roots and wings. I ain’t scared of the dark ’cause I know the light got your name on it.”

He tilted his head, smilin’ soft.

“You my peace, Yaya. You my poem, my prayer, my forever. I didn’t wait all this time just to lose you again.”

I cried harder, but it felt good this time. Like I was releasin’ ghosts.

“You always say the right thing.”

He grinned. “That’s ’cause I mean every syllable.”

Brrt. Brrt.

My phone buzzed.

Daniale:

Did he cry yet or y’all still bein’ dramatic?

I passed it to him.

He laughed. “Yo, she wild.”

“She’s you. Just with edges.”

“Say less.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel broken. I felt like I was finally, finally home.