Chapter 18 Joe
I could honestly say I had never had so much fun in all my life.
For three days Jason and I lived inside each other’s pockets.
That first day, we used our energy to repair stuff around the house.
Things went much more quickly with someone there to aid me, even if Jason was, admittedly, horrible at literally everything he did at first.
At first.
Because with some solid instruction and patience, Jason proved to be a fast learner.
With every project I supervised, the better he got.
Sometimes he still messed up. Like with the toilet.
He’d insisted that YouTube and “Paxton,” some guy he kept calling on the phone, were enough to get him through replacing the pump.
He’d been wrong.
He ended up completely soaked through because he hadn’t shut off the valve properly before starting. That was his only major “mess-up,” if you could call it that. And it was easily fixed with a handful of towels and directions to the water valve in the basement.
Things went…a lot more smoothly with Jason nearby.
Rather than sit there stressing, I flew through the projects. He made jokes wherever he could. One in particular about “caulk” that was both raunchy and genuinely hilarious. He did exactly what he’d told me he wanted to do.
He helped me lift my burdens.
And as we finished the kitchen.
Then finished the front room.
And repaired all the holes in the walls together with no small amount of squabbling—even though Jason knew next to nothing about DIY, he still managed to argue with me over pretty much everything. I didn’t mind. We both enjoyed it.
I couldn’t shake the overwhelming gratitude I felt that I’d let him in.
I had no regrets. With every minute that passed as the storm raged on outside, my feelings for Jason grew.
Eyes lingering on his hands as he worked.
Gaze snapping to his mouth when he laughed as I griped at him over how messy he was with a palette knife and a bucket of spackle.
“You’re a child,” I told him, and he grinned.
Sharp angles, wrinkles, and bright eyes.
The shadow he’d carried was gone.
And…something new, something bubbly simmered beneath the surface of my skin. Not like boiling water. Not violent, or harsh. Whatever it was, was soft. Soft as the blanket of snow that covered the world outside our windows. Turning everything blank and white.
A fresh start.
My eyes lingered as Jason moved.
Lingered on his expressive hands. On his eyebrows, and the conversations they held with me, no words needed. On the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. On the bow of his legs as he walked, all effortless confidence even though he hardly knew what he was doing.
On the way my clothing hung off his frame and yet he never looked small.
It made me wonder if some people are just like that.
Larger than life.
Jason certainly felt that way to me. Bigger than this house. Than this town. Than the world I’d grown up inside of.
“I don’t know if that looks straight,” Jason said once, just to tease.
“It’s straight.” I glared at him. He was standing behind me, hands on his hips, a pinched expression on his face. His eyes danced with mischief. “Hmm. Maybe from your angle. But from mine?”
“Jason. I will beat you over the head with the rest of this drywall, so help me god.”
“Well, that’s not very nice,” Jason tutted. But he was grinning.
He was back.
My Jason.
And he was warmer than ever.
As we wound down for the night after working our way through a vast majority of the projects I’d only half-finished, Jason wouldn’t stop touching me.
My back, my hip, my nape. Brushes of the fingers I couldn’t stop staring at.
Hard grips to move me out of the way, or command me to drink the water he’d grabbed from the kitchen for me.
Taking care of me.
Those first few hours taught me a lot about myself.
About Jason, too.
I enjoyed working beside him. The silence I’d found uncomfortable recently, felt easy when he was nearby. I could feel his echo even in the corners. Like he was light, bouncing off the walls. Making even the shadows brighter. Making the storm less violent. Making my world calm.
I discovered that…being vulnerable with Jason—inviting him beneath my walls—was the smartest choice I’d ever made.
The bravest, too.
I had no regrets.
That first night when we were both too exhausted to keep working, Jason and I hunted through the food he’d brought for something to eat.
We had what Jason called “girl dinner,” which apparently consisted of a plethora of snacks, some miscellaneous items from the fridge and freezer, and giant cups of flavored water.
We sat on the kitchen island, and Jason used my phone to help me shop for furniture.
A little thrill ran through me at the thought that his touch would be all over my home.
Maybe that should’ve made me realize that my feelings had changed.
But it didn’t.
I’d never been very good at emotions.
After we’d brushed our teeth in tandem—again, an experience that felt incredibly intimate—and Jason changed into a pair of my pajamas, we retired to the bedroom.
“You take the bed,” Jason said, hauling a blanket next to the air mattress.
His back was to me, bent over. My eyes trailed over his broad shoulders.
Over the way my shirt rode up his back. On the sliver of pale skin above the waistband of my sweatpants.
When my eyes flitted over his ass something hot flickered low in my belly.
Shame maybe.
I squashed it quickly.
But there was no forgetting its presence.
“We should share,” I found myself offering, voice hoarse.
“Can your air mattress take that?” Jason asked. It almost felt like he was running again. Maybe he was shy? Maybe he was worried it’d pop.
“Yes.” My cheeks flushed as I crawled onto the queen-sized air mattress and scooted to the side to make room. “It’ll be warmer.” My space heater was on full blast, and in the living room, the fire was still roaring. But even with the walls patched the space felt icy.
Jason stood up tall.
He turned to look at me, his eyes dark with emotions I couldn’t name. He stared at me for a moment, eyebrows neutral for the first time since I’d met him. I couldn’t get a read on him, at all. My heart fluttered. It took everything I had not to squirm.
“You need a real mattress, Joe,” Jason said. It wasn’t admonishment so much as it was an observation.
“Maybe you can help me get one,” I said, voice hoarse.
Apparently it was the right thing to say because Jason’s face was on the move again. Happiness looked good on him. Made that heat simmer lower. Made the fuzziness beneath my skin spark.
“Good plan,” he agreed. Jason was the one that flipped the light off, plunging us into darkness. “You need a bath mat too.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t argue as he climbed onto the mattress, though he did grimace, like he expected it to pop.
It didn’t. It held true. Jason made a sound as he lay to my left.
He reached for his blanket, pulling it up over him.
It didn’t escape my notice that he was as far away from me as physically possible.
If this had been a week ago, I would’ve appreciated that.
But…
I wiggled across the mattress a little, heart pounding. Jason’s eyebrows shot up, his head swiveling to look at me. In the dark, I could barely make out his features. A prominent nose. A cupid’s bow that dipped just right. A stubborn chin. Spiky short hair.
“Jason…” I started, wanting to hear his voice again, one more time before bed.
“Yeah?” he asked, huskily.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admitted. The dark made me feel bold. Bolder than I’d ever been. He made a sound. Reminded me of a wounded animal. My heart jumped again. Before I could worry, he spoke, setting my nerves to rest.
“I’m glad I’m here, too.”
I relaxed. Smiling up at the ceiling. There was a foot separating our bodies. Maybe slightly less than that. I ached for him to cross the distance, but he didn’t. In fact, when I’d stopped reliving how perfect today had been—I realized Jason was fast asleep.
He was turned on his side, facing me, body tucked around one of his pillows. Thank god, I’d had three. Seriously. His hand lay on the mattress, the dark, lax shape of it making something fizzle inside me. My heart squeezed and squeezed as I stared at him.
Stared at how still he was.
How quiet.
Just the steady rise and fall of his chest.
The heat between us was incubating. Keeping us pleasantly toasty, even if my nose was a little chilly.
Outside the window, the snow continued to fall.
And as I reached for Jason’s hand, hovering mine over top it, this ache for something…
more…turning me inside out, it truly felt as though we were the only two people in the world.
I didn’t touch him.
Didn’t know if I should.
I could feel the heat emanating from the back of his hand as I spread my fingers out, measuring the difference in our size. I wanted to trace along his knuckles. Wanted to map the veins on the back of his hands. Wanted to tangle us together till we were one.
I almost did.
Almost.