Page 8 of You Deserve Good Things

The One That Got Away

Houston, Texas (Four Years Later)

It was like somebody carved a hole outta my chest and left the wind blowing through it ever since.

I couldn’t forget the way she looked at me that day—like she wanted to stay, like she wanted me to stop her but couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

I didn’t even get a goodbye. No last hug.

No “take care, Jacory.” Just silence. And that silence?

That shit still haunted me. That silence still sat in my chest like a brick I couldn’t cough up.

The block didn’t feel the same no more. Not since Silas died. Not since Shaniya left. New Orleans still moved the same—music still bumping outta somebody’s speakers, old heads still posted up playing dominoes, the smell of gumbo and crawfish still drifting through the air.

But it felt different now. It felt like the city had a hole in it. Like I had a hole in me .

The city moved on without her.

But I never did.

I tried. Lord knows I tried. I tried like hell to forget her—her eyes, that voice, that energy that felt like home and heaven all in one. Tried to patch the hole in my spirit with late-night distractions and women who looked good enough to make me forget—but none of them stuck.

I went through what I like to call The Shaniya Rebound Tour—messing with girls who had nothin’ to offer but a body and a lil’ conversation.

There was Kendall, with the big curls and even bigger ego, who thought sex and sushi dates made up for the fact she was allergic to emotional maturity.

There was Leah, who kept calling me “Jarell” no matter how many times I corrected her.

Then there was Tasha, who showed up to my mama’s house uninvited, tryna charm her with potato salad that tasted like wet air and disrespect.

And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I stayed. I stayed for the noise, for the moment, for the numbness. But none of them could measure up. They didn’t have that storm-in-a-glass energy Shaniya had. They didn’t have that mouth that cut like a knife but that spirit that soothed like lotion on a burn.

They weren’t her.

So yeah, I dipped. I ghosted. I walked away from every single one. Not ’cause I didn’t wanna love somebody else, but ’cause my heart was still in New Orleans, sitting on that porch, waitin’ on a girl who never looked back.

Now? I had a plan. Four years. That was how long I gave myself to get my shit together.

And I did that. No handouts. No shortcuts.

Straight hustle. I wasn’t the same broke-ass boy she left behind.

I had my own business now. James Financial Group.

I was a financial consultant. I was tryna build something real, something solid, something that made sure I never lost anything else important to me.

I was cleaning up other folks’ money mess while makin’ sure I’d never again be the one begging life to give me something.

Now, my pockets were right. My business was up and running.

I had a name in these streets—but not the kind that put a target on my back.

The kind that made people respect me. I was able to keep my street credibility clean, just enough hood to still be respected, just enough polish to make people cut me a check.

And that? That was all part of the plan.

I told myself I didn’t wanna find her till I was ready.

Till I was the type of man that deserved her.

I wasn’t gon’ show up on some broke nigga, empty-handed, begging-for-her-time type shit.

Nah. When I saw her again? I was gon’ be a man she could trust. A man she could feel safe with.

A man who could give her the world and back up every word I ever said to her.

Only problem? I had no idea where the hell she was.

At first, I tried to find her. I kept tabs on her parents, asked around about her.

But Shaniya? She was a damn ghost. She had no social media, no pictures, no posts about her living her best life in Houston.

It was like she’d just . . . vanished. And that shit drove me crazy.

Because I needed to know, did she miss me the way I missed her? Did she ever think about me late at night, wondering if I was okay? Did she ever regret leaving? Or worse—did she forget about me completely?

Chase was still my right-hand. His ass was still wild as hell. He was still talking reckless as fuck, and still the only person who knew just how bad Shaniya’s absence was fucking me up.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at my laptop screen, tryna focus, but my mind was gone.

“Bruh, what the hell are you over there thinking so hard about?”

Chase sat across from me, brows raised, popping fries in his mouth like he wasn’t the nosiest damn dude alive.

I exhaled through my nose, rubbing my hands together. “Nothing.”

He snorted. “Yeah, aight. Nothing looks a whole lot like Shaniya’s name floating through your big ass head.”

I shot him a look. “Man, shut the fuck up.”

Chase grinned, shaking his head. “See, that’s your problem. You still acting like she ain’t got you wrapped up. Four years later, and you still over there stressing.”

I didn’t even bother lying. What was the point?

I just sighed, deep, shaking my head. “She ain’t just some girl, bro.”

Chase chewed slowly, watchin’ me. “I know, bro.”

Silence sat between us for a second before he leaned forward. “So, what you gon’ do? Sit here another four years hoping she magically shows up? Or you gon’ move differently?”

I clenched my jaw, feeling that familiar burn in my chest.

Chase wiped his hands on a napkin, leaning back in his chair. “Look, bro, all jokes aside, I get it. She was the one. There ain’t no replacing that.”

I nodded, jaw still tight.

“But it’s been four years. If you really wanna find her, you gon’ have to actually fucking look, nigga.”

I frowned. “You think I ain’t thought about that? I’ve been looking. It ain’t like she’s on social media like that. And I ain’t tryna be one of those stalker-ass niggas, hitting up her mama, asking where she at.”

Chase smirked. “Well, good news. You ain’t gotta do all that.”

I gave him a side-eye. “Fuck you mean?”

He pulled out his phone, scrolled for a second, then flipped the screen toward me. The caption read:

Texas Southern University.

Bachelor of Arts in Psychology – Shaniya Stiles.

My heart damn near stopped.

I stared at the screen, my whole body tight as hell.

“You deadass?” I asked, my voice low.

Chase nodded. “She was tagged in a picture by some fine ass girl named Daniale. You know I am social media heavy. All I had to do was put two and two together.”

I was already grabbing my keys.

Chase laughed. “Damn, you ain’t even gon’ think about it first?”

“Nah.” I stood up, sliding my cap on. “I done did all the thinking I needed to. It’s time to move.”

The Houston heat slapped me the minute I stepped out the house to get in my car, but it didn’t matter. I drove through Houston with one thought on my mind: I wasn’t losing her again.

I didn’t care if she was in class. I didn’t care if she cursed me out or gave me the same silence she left with.

I didn’t give a fuck if she was mad. I was pulling up on her outta nowhere.

I just needed to see her. Face to face. No more guessing.

No more dreaming. No more trying to replace her with women who didn’t even own a fraction of her essence.

It was time. I wasn’t letting her go again.

Not now. Not ever. Let her scream. Let her cry.

Let her throw every wall up she could think of.

I’d climb every single one. Because even after four years?

Shaniya Stiles was still mine. She just didn’t know it yet.

I needed her to know that no matter how much time passed, no matter how far she ran—I was always gon’ come for her.