Chapter 4 #2
Standing on Joe’s porch ruminating wasn’t doing anyone, least of all me, any good.
So I rapped on the screen door with purpose.
The sound chased away the demons in my head.
The screen door rattled beneath my fist. Its edges were rusted, the white paint chipped.
Behind it, the wooden door was no better. Just as worn.
I didn’t hear footsteps and worried I’d just so happened to visit while Joe was out tending to his orchard. The inner wooden door swung open a moment later, revealing Joe’s tall, broad form.
His eyes were guarded, brow furrowed as he stared at me.
It was a cute expression.
Perplexed.
Annoyed.
“Hey, buddy!” I said brightly before he could slam the door in my face. “I brought pizza! Peace-za. You know—instead of a white flag.”
Joe slammed the door in my face.
A startled laugh escaped me.
That’s what you deserve for getting your hopes up, I chided myself. You should know by now that Joe never makes things easy. Joe was nothing but contrary when it came to me. The fact that I’d held him while he cried was only bound to make that worse—
To my surprise, the door swung back open.
I moved out of the way as quick as I could, porch wheezing beneath my steps. Joe pushed through both doors with a scowl on his face.
Joe stormed past me and down the steps.
They made even more noise when he was on them, due to his bulk. A frankly hilarious squeak, whine, squeak, whine that sounded after every step. I followed behind him dutifully.
Please, dear god, do not crumble beneath us.
The wood held true, thank the lord.
I scurried down the last of the steps as Joe’s feet touched gravel, my eyes caught on the width of his shoulders and the rather glorious way they flexed when he walked. Though…walk was maybe not the best word for what he was currently doing.
No.
Stalking was more accurate.
Like a panther.
He had no flannel on today despite the chill. Just a t-shirt. The golden skin of his biceps haunted me. Bounce bounce bouncing. At the last second, right as he’d reached my vehicle, Joe tripped over a twig and nearly face planted into the side of my truck.
“Hey—” I grabbed his shirt on instinct, yanking him back before he could make contact with the metal and get hurt.
Apparently that was a mistake.
Joe growled.
Growled!
“I don’t need your help!” Joe’s voice was sharp. Still quiet, but far closer to a roar than I’d ever heard it. I stepped back, hands up placatingly. Joe jerked around, chest heaving, nostrils flaring as he glared at me. “I can take care of myself. I’m not weak.”
He’d said almost that same thing back in June.
Verbatim.
“Okay,” I agreed, attempting to sound neutral. My heart was pounding. “Sure, yes. Of course you can! I didn’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t.”
Backpedal, backpedal.
How was I only realizing what a bad idea this was?
“Why are you always—” Joe made a frustrated noise, hands going up into his hair. He tugged at it harshly, and I couldn’t help the way I clucked my tongue at him. Immediately, his grip slackened, following the unspoken command to cease hurting himself. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
My heart squeezed.
A balloon with all the air sucked out of it.
I closed down.
Why won’t you leave me alone?
I took another step back.
Dropped my hands.
The keys in my pocket jangled.
Suddenly, looking at Joe was too damn hard. Though, admittedly, he was even prettier when he was pissed off than when he was ignoring me. All flashing white teeth, pointy canines, and flexed jaw.
But…I just…I couldn’t.
You’re an idiot, Jason, I told myself.
What did you think you were doing here?
I opened my mouth to tell him I’d go. That I’d stop pursuing him. That I finally got the hint. That I was sorry, really, genuinely sorry that I’d pushed him to this point.
Because I had, hadn’t I?
Always poking.
Meddling.
I opened my mouth, but Joe cut me off.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, his tone so defeated I couldn’t have stopped myself from looking at him again, even if I’d tried.
His shoulders were slumped, his head dropped down. There was something miserable about the way he held himself. His golden hair fell forward, blocking his forehead from view.
He looked small.
Like he had when I’d held him.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I really didn’t mean that. I know you’re just being nice. I just…”
I didn’t move. I didn’t know what was welcome right now. Wasn’t sure where I stood between what he’d just said and the irritation he’d been exhibiting only a few seconds prior.
“I have been bothering you,” I said, surprised by how even my tone was when I felt like I was at least partially dying. “I know I have.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Yes on purpose.” I laughed a little, the sound brittle. That admission made me sound like such a dick. Which…I guess I was. My intentions didn’t matter if I’d made him uncomfortable.
“Why?” Joe’s hands clenched into fists, released, then clenched again. The veins on the back of them danced.
“Because I think you’re interesting,” I said. “Because I think you’re fun.” He clenched again, then released.
It was hard to admit this. Felt like pulling teeth. But I figured after what I’d put him through, the least I could do was tell the truth.
“Because I thought I could make things better for you. Easier for you.” Because you’re lonely, and old, and wanted his attention, Madison’s voice informed me. “Because I…want to be your friend.” Joe was the one who deserved an apology, not me.
I didn’t speak again.
Letting Joe process my heartfelt apology and decide for himself what to do with it.
He looked…wild, like a bull ready to charge.
Caught off guard.
And yet…less confused.
There was something almost glassy in his eyes that made it clear that while a day had passed, Joe was definitely not more settled than the last time I’d seen him. He looked stressed out. Worn thin. Exhausted.
I itched to fix it.
But now, more than ever, I knew I didn’t have the right to.
“You want to be my friend?” Joe repeated, like I was speaking another language. Like no one in his entire life had ever said that to him. In a way I felt like a kindergartner, offering him friendship like that. A friendship he had every right to refuse.
“Yes,” I confessed. I wanted to be his friend more than anything.
He nodded.
Not acceptance, but acknowledging what I’d said. Mulling it over. I’d never outright asked like that. Not since I was little. Not since I got a taste for how easy rejection could be doled out.
“Why?” Joe asked, voice quiet.
His question caught me off guard. I hadn’t anticipated it, so my knee-jerk reaction was to simply admit the truth, even though that wasn’t something I often did. “I didn’t grow up with a lot of friends,” I admitted. “Or any, really.”
Joe was quiet for a beat.
“Me neither,” he confessed.
And for the first time since we met, it felt like we understood one another.
“Pizza?” I offered, attempting to sound chipper. “I’ll go, but don’t let the food go to waste. Best piece-a-pie in town, guaranteed.”
I wasn’t trying to manipulate him this time. The offer to leave was genuine—even though the thought that Joe may not want to share a meal with me made me feel like I was dying.
I’d messed up so badly with him.
So badly I didn’t know what to do to fix it.
Didn’t know if I was allowed to even try.
But the pizza was innocent. And I wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to waste.
Joe’s nostrils flared again, and I worried I’d made another mistake, offering him food. But then his stomach gurgled. His eyes darted from me to the house, then to the truck where the pizza box lay tempting him.
The window was cracked, so the scent of cheese and bread filled the air. He exhaled and nodded. Then, just as slow, he took a step to the side so I could reach around him to remove the food.
I did so at a glacial pace, not wanting to push any more buttons than I already had.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” I hummed, straightening from where I’d bent over the driver’s side to reach the pizza. I pulled it out, offering it to him with none of my usual pizazz. “So I got cheese.”
“I like cheese,” Joe said in the most sullen but adorable voice I’d ever heard. His stomach made another sound. That protective instinct reared up inside me again as I shut the door with my hip.
He eyed the pizza box hungrily.
“Here, take it.” Joe wavered, gaze darting between me and the food. “No tricks,” I promised. “It’s peace-za, remember?”
He nodded again, even more slowly this time. Then, in that same adorable voice, he requested, “Stay?”
Had he really just…?
If I’d been crushed before, this was the absolute opposite.
The balloon inside me expanded so much I felt like it might pop.
“You want me to stay and eat with you?” I clarified. “Really? After everything?”
Joe nodded.
The muscle in his jaw jumped, but he looked pretty damn sure of his choice.
“Okay,” I agreed easily, sagging in relief. “Awesome. Where do you want to eat?” I asked, waving the box. “Inside? Outside? Hell, we can use my truck bed if you—”
“Porch.” A man on a mission, Joe headed toward said porch without a backward glance. I grimaced, shaking off my anxiety over the structural integrity of the thing as I followed after him. I had no idea how I’d managed to luck into this, but I had.
“No one’s been in the house,” Joe admitted as he reached the top. “Except me.”
“Really?” Maybe he was embarrassed. I wasn’t going to judge. Nor was I looking to poke a fresh wound by asking him about it.
Joe sat down before I did.
He spread his legs a little, hunching over them as he waited for me to take my seat too. I made sure to keep a respectful distance. He needed space. Even if he’d invited me to stay, he still needed that.
Setting the pizza box down between us, I sprawled wide to stretch out my legs. Once settled, I pulled the lid open and gestured toward the cheesy goodness with a flourish. “Dig in.”