Chapter 17 Jason
Because nothing could ever go my way, apparently, I barely got a hundred yards down the road into town before I was forced to turn back. The snow was coming down so hard now that even with my windshield wipers on the fastest setting, I could hardly see a foot in front of me.
Shoveling my car off had been a nightmare. My hands were icicles. Even with the heater on full blast, there was little I could do to stave off the chill that permeated the air. My chest felt cold, even with my coat overtop it. I should’ve seen that as the omen it was.
But…I just…
I’d needed out.
Needed away from Joe and his puppy eyes.
And the way he had clearly sensed something was amiss and was…
god. He’d been trying to cheer me up, hadn’t he?
With his sass. Cheeks bright red like it burned him just to utter anything unkind.
Not that what he’d said had been particularly mean. Both things were just observations.
He’d looked…so confused when I said goodbye, and that just…that just killed me.
Leaving had to be the hardest thing I’d ever done.
And now…I had no choice but to head back.
As reality hit, I allotted myself thirty whole seconds to panic over the fact that I would have to weather the storm with Joe—before I very carefully did a U-turn and drove down the road to Joe’s farmhouse for the third time that day.
The gravel driveway spun beneath my tires, snow crunching, wheels whirring.
“Fuck, fuck,” I swore as I chugged up the driveway one painful foot at a time. When I’d arrived in my usual parking spot next to Joe’s truck, I could vaguely see the farmhouse through the blizzard. The lights were on and the windows glowed a hearty yellow.
Joe’s farmhouse was a lighthouse in the middle of a white sea.
I’d never been more uneasy.
Unsure of myself in a way that made me feel sixteen years old and terrified of my own shadow.
I turned the ignition off. Without the engines rumble, the world was eerily quiet. It was comforting in a way it never had been before Joe. Before the magpie.
I simply let myself breathe, eyes closed, focusing on what I could control. I pretended as though things were fine. Like this wasn’t the last place in the world I wanted to be. Especially when I was acting this way.
Ugly.
That’s how it felt.
When I was ready, I dove out the door and bolted through nearly half a foot of snow.
It packed beneath my feet, causing me to slip and slide all the way to the stairs.
The front steps wheezed like they always did, creaking and groaning beneath my weight as I forced my way through the snow to the top.
Once on the porch itself, I knocked once before Joe swung the inner door open.
My mouth went dry the moment I saw him.
“Oh shit,” he said as I pulled the screen door wide. His eyes were on the snow behind me, blond brow pinched. He wasted no time shifting that big, gorgeous body to the side to let me in. “You better come in.”
Joe’s house was warmer than it’d been twenty minutes ago. Not as warm as it should’ve been, however, considering the fire that was currently roaring.
That didn’t bode well for us. Not in a storm like this.
The forecast had predicted an entire weekend of nonstop snow. Buckets of it. The kind of storm that blocked doorways and buried cars. And here we were…trapped in a place without central heating and with holes in the fucking walls.
Christ.
Worse than that, though?
Joe was here.
Joe, who I had decided not to have feelings for anymore.
My plan to avoid him was officially going down the drain.
“You can help me paint,” Joe said when I’d changed into clothes that weren’t frigid and soaked.
I practically drowned in the flannel he’d given me, and had to strangle my borrowed sweatpants so they wouldn’t simply slip right off.
I tried to ignore the little thrill I felt that I was wearing his clothes, and failed. Spectacularly.
It was a testament to how closely Joe observed me now that he’d noticed I was still off. Also, I couldn't really hide my grumbly mood. Glaring out at the storm, expression pinched.
“You’re going to let me help you?” I followed after him, perplexed. “Really? After all that shit you gave me about not needing help?”
At that, he paused.
“Everyone needs help sometimes.” The look he gave me reminded me of a naughty puppy. It took me a second to figure out why, and when I did, I had to bite back a laugh. Because in his own “Joe” way, it very quickly became clear that he was trying to cheer me up.
Seriously?
“Okay,” I laughed. “Grab me a brush then.”
Joe did as he was told. He handed me a brush and pail identical to the one he was using. It was a shade of pale blue that reminded me—weirdly—of my own eyes. Just a coincidence, I’m sure. I chose the cabinet on the opposite side of the kitchen.
Trying to create some distance between us while I still could.
We were at a turning point.
I knew that.
I’d realized that.
I could either stomp the sparks out before they could catch, or…they’d be blazing.
Joe was not making that easy.
When he realized how far away I was, he grabbed his own stuff and took a seat. Right. Next. To. Me. Jesus Christ.
“You’re doing that wrong,” he said, tone surprisingly gentle.
I glanced down at my brush, realizing belatedly that I’d been creating drips the entire time I’d been working.
“You need less paint and to—” I tuned out the rest of what he was saying, distracted by the way he leaned into my space, looming over me.
He had really long eyelashes.
Pale as wheat.
Just like his hair.
They kissed his cheeks every time he blinked.
And were those…freckles? Maybe. Faded for sure, if they were. Barely there.
“Does that make sense?” Joe finished.
“Yep.” I hadn’t listened to a single thing he said. I did try to be more careful, though, and he let me struggle for only a minute before he was in my personal bubble again. God, he was a fucking furnace as he leaned over me, fingers wrapping around my hand and guiding me.
Like a chick in a movie.
Ohmygod.
Whywasthishappeningtomeeeeee.
“See?” he said, releasing my hand and leaning back. “No drips.”
“Yep.” I stared blankly at the cupboard, pretty sure I’d blacked out the entire time I’d been painting it.
We finished in record time. To be fair, Joe had done the majority of the work before I’d ever arrived. Still, though, four hands were better than two. When the paint was finished and we waited for it to dry, I let Joe take care of the brushes, still a little dazed.
“What else?” I asked, because the idea of trying to fill the time without helping him made me feel as though my skin was on fire. “Can I help with something else?” Now that I wasn’t good company, the least I could do was be useful.
Joe set the now-rinsed brushes inside the sink and nodded. I was testing my limits a bit. Seeing how far this new open-minded Joe would let me push.
He was watching me again.
Gauging my mood.
“How good are you with a hammer?”
“Terrible,” I admitted.
He laughed.
Laughed!
Apparently Joe’s idea of cheering me up was giving me hard labor to do.
I couldn’t be mad about it, though. I wanted to be occupied almost as much as I wanted to help him.
He looked particularly eager when he pointed me toward the rusty nail sticking out of the baseboard and told me, with great importance, that it was, “all mine.”
I was tempted to beat my head against the wall.
It was impossible not to find him adorable when he was acting like this.
Impossible.
When it quickly became clear that I could not get the nail out of the wall on my own—I swear to god, the thing was cursed—Joe came to help with that, too. Infuriatingly patient, quiet, and sure of himself in a way I’d never really seen him be.
If I’d thought he was amazing before, it was nothing compared to how I felt about him now.
Joe was truly in his element here.
That anxious energy he’d had before was completely missing.
With a mission to accomplish, and something to do with his hands—not his mouth—he was as sure as I’d ever seen him. I couldn’t help but find that…incredibly attractive. I respected it. As someone who had always been good with people and not so much…hands-on stuff, I appreciated his strength.
“There,” Joe said, when the nail was out. “Now we can spackle it.”
“Sure,” I agreed. I only knew what “spackle” was because of my conversation with Paxton on the car ride to the grocery store. That felt like it’d happened a million years ago. Between my panic, and the storm, and now cheerful-Joe all in my business, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.
How could I possibly be distant with him when he looked at me like that?
It was like kicking a puppy.
A big, intimidating, grouchy puppy.
I gave up.
I could assert boundaries later.
For now…I wanted to enjoy this gift for what it was. Joe opening up to me. Joe…being Joe in the Joe-est way possible. Joe allowing me to exist in his bubble. Joe allowing me to be useful, even if I wasn’t nearly as good at this as he was, and I knew he had high standards.
Joe cheering me up because he cared.
“You don’t have to fix everything for me to want you around,” Joe said quietly.
We’d lapsed into comfortable silence after the nail incident.
On the other side of the room he’d been working on finishing the rest of the snap-on flooring.
He’d have to cut baseboards—he’d informed me—after the storm had stopped.
“What?” I asked, because what he’d just said had ricocheted through me like a stray bullet.
“I mean…” Joe said quietly. “I know you said you enjoy helping people.” I did.
“But…” he trailed off. When I looked at him, he was very pointedly not looking back.
Glaring a hole into the wood panel in his hands, his head tipped down.
“If you feel like you have to do it…I just wanted you to know you don’t. ”
“I don’t feel like I have to do it,” I lied.
I constantly battled to prove my usefulness.
Constantly.
Maybe this was Joe’s way of…not only seeing that, but acknowledging it.
My heart was pounding.
It felt like he’d pulled my ribs open and revealed my heart behind them. No one had ever looked at me so plainly. So calmly. Coaxing me forward like I was a spooked animal.
“Okay,” Joe grunted. “But…I’m just…” He made a frustrated sound. “I just want you to know that. That even if the storm hadn’t hit I’d want you here. Whether or not you were…you know. Useful.”
He’d…want me here?
Another bullet struck me right where I was weakest. He’d want me here. He’d want me here. He’d want me here even if I wasn’t being useful? It felt impossible. But this was Joe…and because it was Joe I couldn’t help but believe him.
“Why?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Because I think you’re interesting,” Joe said, just as quiet. He didn’t look at me, staring at the floorboards as he spoke. His fist was relaxed around the hammer, despite how nervous he sounded.
“Because I think you’re fun,” Joe added.
I was shaking apart.
“Because…I want to be your friend.” He was almost perfectly echoing the words I’d told him weeks ago, standing in his driveway, with a pizza and a dream to play Santa for the prickliest man I’d ever met.
“We are friends,” I told him, heart breaking right apart. Or maybe it was mending. Maybe this was what caves felt when they collapsed on themselves, gravel, pebbles, boulders filling the gaps that’d been left behind. Falling apart only to be better formed without the holes.
“I know,” Joe agreed.
God, he was a menace.
“In the light of our mutual friendship,” I said, leaning against the wall, his hammer in hand.
“Can I request that you continue to let me help you this weekend?” My heart was still pounding, sprinting a goddamn marathon.
“Not because I feel like I have to be useful while I’m here.
Or because I think you only want me around if I fix things.
But because…I care about you, Joe. And you’re struggling to do this on your own for good reason.
And I know I’m shit at—” I gestured around us, in particular at the hole in the wall where the nail I hadn’t pulled out had been, “—all of this, but there’s nothing that would make me happier than easing some of the weight off your shoulders. ”
Joe lifted his head, the play of firelight on his face as disarming as it was hypnotic. He became a statue. So still, so quiet. Just like the day I’d seen him in that alley and I’d come to life again. He nodded, a short, pointed little gesture.
All my plans to put distance between us turned to smoke.
In the light of his trust, there was no point.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how uncertain I was in other regards, the desire I had to take care of Joe was stronger than my fear. I was beginning to see the tail of his yarn unravel, and I knew what that meant. Knew what it cost him.
For the first time in my life, it truly felt like I was wanted.
Not my money. Not my connections. Not what I could do for someone else—but just…just me. Just Jason Harker. Useful or not.
The spark had turned into a blaze.