Page 16 of You Deserve Good Things

The Breakthrough

I wasn’t letting her go again. Not now, or ever. She could run, she could hide behind all them fears, stack every damn emotional sandbag she had around her heart—but I was breakin’ through all that shit tonight. I wasn’t just fighting for her no more. I was reclaiming what had always been mine.

She sat across from me like a storm I’d been chasing all my life.

Her hands were folded tight in her lap, trembling slightly, like her soul was debating whether to stay or fly away again.

Her lips—soft, swollen, bitten raw from nerves—looked like they’d been wrestling secrets she wasn’t ready to speak yet.

Her eyes? They held galaxies. Full of grief, love, confusion, and that same old fire I fell for way back when we were too young to know what forever really meant.

The room was dim, moody like us. Soft yellow light spilled from a low-hanging lamp, painting her caramel skin in this golden glow that made her look damn near celestial.

The scent of jasmine oil and soft vanilla floated from her like temptation wearing a sundress.

I leaned forward, my voice low, vibrating straight from my chest like a bassline made for slow dancing and confessions.

I slid two fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Tell me the truth, baby,” I murmured, my tone thick like honey and heavier than the silence between us.

She swallowed hard. “About what?”

I smirked, all confidence and quiet command. “You know what.”

She licked her lips, eyes darting like she was tryna find an escape route. But she knew there wasn’t one. Not from me.

Finally, she exhaled. Voice soft, barely there. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

That right there broke something open in me. I exhaled slowly, nodded like I’d been waitin’ on her to admit it.

Then I leaned in—closer, slow as sin, brushed my thumb across her bottom lip, claiming her in the most delicate, yet possessive way possible. “Baby,” I said, deep and certain, “the only way you losing me is if you put me in the ground.”

Her breath hitched. Her lashes fluttered. I could damn near hear her heart hiccup.

“Listen to me, Yaya,” I whispered, every word pouring outta me like a vow. “Ain’t nobody, and I mean nobody, ever gon’ take me from you. Not these streets, not no weak-ass nigga, not no jealous-ass bitch, not no situation, not even God Himself unless Big G take me with you.”

Her eyes filled with tears, those unshed, quiet ones that only came when a woman had been strong for too damn long.

And I wasn’t done.

“I will lay any nigga or bitch down behind you,” I said slowly, “and I’ll smile in my mugshot like it’s my graduation picture.”

Her whole body shuddered. And I meant every single syllable. I wasn’t just tryna impress her. I was tryna make her feel the safety in my soul.

I reached across the table, gently slid my hand over hers—firm but soft, like I was tryna anchor her to me. “You’re scared ’cause you think loving me means losing me. You’re scared ’cause everything good in your life has been ripped from you.”

Her bottom lip trembled. Her fingers gripped mine like she didn’t realize how tight she was holding on till she almost let go.

“But baby,” I whispered, my thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of her hand, “you ain’t gotta be scared of me. You stuck with me now.”

She blinked hard, her breath stuttering in and out like her lungs were learning how to breathe again.

“I’ma love you till I’m gone,” I said, my voice rasped and full of raw devotion. “But not before I spend every single day making you feel like you were never supposed to cry alone in the first place.”

Her whole body went still, quiet like the calm before a thunderstorm. I leaned back just a little, gave her space, just enough for her to feel the loss.

And just like that, she twitched. Her fingers reached for mine again on instinct. I chuckled low, slow, smug.

“Ain’t no point in fighting it, baby,” I said, leaning in again, lowering my voice to a hush just between us. “You mine. And I been yours. So stop acting like you don’t feel it.”

She licked her lips, cheeks flushed, thighs pressing together under the table. I caught it. Oh, I saw it. Felt it. That tension. That need. That love.

“Jacory . . .” she started, barely breathing my name like it was the first prayer she ever said out loud.

“Yeah, my love?” I asked, my voice velvet-wrapped steel.

“. . . I’m tired of running.”

That right there broke me open in a way I couldn’t put in words. It felt like hearing a favorite song that hadn’t played in years. Like your heart finding its rhythm after beating off-key for too damn long.

“Then stop, baby,” I whispered, standing and going ’round to her side.

I pulled her up gently, pressing my chest to hers, my arms locking behind her lower back like a fortress made outta flesh. My lips brushed her ear. “Let me catch you.”

Her whole body melted. Right there in my arms, she finally surrendered. I felt it in the way she sank into me, the way her fingers curled into my shirt like she needed to memorize my heartbeat.

“You sure?” she whispered, voice barely audible.

I pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“I ain’t never been more sure of anything in my life,” I said, one hand sliding up to her cheek, thumb brushing that one little tear that had slipped free. “You are everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever prayed for. And I ain’t never letting you go again.”

Then I kissed her—slow, deep, soulful, like a promise sealed in heat and honey.

And for the first time? She kissed me back like she believed I’d keep it.