Chapter 8
J ericho
I stomp back into the kitchen to start making dinner, and Junie is perched on the counter like it’s her throne, arms crossed, eyebrows so high they’re almost touching her hairline. “That was the psycho you were worried about?” she asks.
I drop a pasta box with theatrical flair. “Yeah. For good reason.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, I get why she called the cops.”
I freeze mid-reach for the cheese. “Seriously? Whose side are you on, Brutus?”
“Yours—duh. But come on, you were sneaking up like a cat burglar, dragging me behind you. I’d dial nine-one-one too.”
“Because I didn’t want her prancing around naked on her porch in front of a child! Who knows what her full moon routine is.” I grab the macaroni box. “And I didn’t need your grandma and aunt flying in tomorrow to sort out that mess.”
Junie’s lips twitch.
I huff. “Very funny.”
She hops onto a stool, chin in her hands. “You painted her as some howling witch.”
“And she is one!”
“Is she though?” Junie giggles. “I think she’s kinda adorable. Those dangly earrings were killer.”
I pretend to be fully preoccupied with the boiling pot of water in front of me. “Didn’t notice.”
“Sure you didn’t,” she snorts. “If Grandma or Jordan were here, they’d be on the side of true style. Why am I not with them by the way?” she adds, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Grandma’s busy, school’s Monday, and you get to stay with the fun uncle who breaks all the rules.” I point my index finger at my own face.
“True,” Junie smiles. “Thanks for coming to my game by the way.”
My chest puffs out. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She stretches her neck to glance at my culinary creation. “Need help?”
“A salad?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’d rather lick the floor.”
I cackle. “Perfect. Mac ’n’ cheese it is.”
While I drain noodles and wage war on the cheese sauce, my mind keeps drifting to my naked neighbor.
Junie might have a point—I was acting suspicious, she was protective.
Brave, even. Tomorrow I’ll check the porch steps for rogue nails.
One wrong move and Junie or Moon could face-plant—I have zero doubts about her future recurring visits.
The rest of the house is half-furnished chaos.
Four bedrooms but only the primary bedroom is set up.
I swap the sheets, toss the old couch downstairs, and vow to order a mattress—because my bones can’t handle floor-surfing after thirty, and I’m not foisting that on Junie or Mom or Sis when they inevitably descend to visit their wayward child.
Junie came downstairs to get a glass of warm milk I had ready for her—it should have been strawberry, her favorite, but my neighbor stole it from us.
It’s funny how much comfort Junie finds in her cozy ritual. She always loved milk when she was a baby, but now she uses it when sleeping in new places or when she feels anxious. I knew she’d come down eventually and had it ready for her.
It’s past midnight, and I still can’t sleep. Exhausted after a previous sleepless night, I should be out the moment my head touches the pillow. But I’m awake, counting dots on the ceiling.
When I know I won’t be sleeping anytime soon, I decide to go outside to get some fresh air in the hopes oxygen will knock me out.
The air is chilly, October is approaching, and nights are even colder. I have no idea how my witchy neighbor was able to withstand the temperature wearing nothing at all. Well, except her hair. Her very bright red hair that makes her look like an actual witch.
Fuck , I groan to myself. I wish I could say I didn’t notice anything because I was too pissed, but it’s not true. I noticed a lot, so did my body. Especially her damn perky nipples, reacting to the cold and poking from between her hair strands.
I carefully plant my butt on the swing when I hear a quiet sniffle. During the daytime, I wouldn’t have heard it, but in the quiet of night, it’s very loud. I glance around and find a red head peeking from the top of the railing on my neighbor’s porch.
Quickly disregarding the sound, I go back to observing the night .
Only to hear the sound again. Quieter this time. But my ears are attuned now, I know what to expect.
Sighing, I ask, knowing she’ll hear me.
“What happened?”
She stiffens. “I’m not crying.”
“That’s not what I asked. What happened?”
“Nothing.” Her voice is quiet. Weak.
I don’t need that right now. I don’t need a pretty, crying neighbor in the middle of the night.
But still, I find myself rising to my feet and walking toward her house.
She’s sitting on the top step, wearing a long white dress and a blanket around her slender frame.
Her hair falls over her shoulders in a wild mess.
It’s not braided or picked in a ponytail, and I suddenly want to tug on it.
Fuck me, she’s truly a witch if she’s causing such thoughts in me, and oddly it doesn’t bother me as much as I expected it to.
When she sees me approaching, she arches a brow with a silent question.
“Make room,” I request grouchily as if it’s her fault I’m finding myself on her porch. Which it kind of is. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
She wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t ask me the same back. “What are you doing here?”
My chuckle is heavy and unexpected. “Can’t sleep.”
“Me neither,” she replies quietly.
“Moon chakras failing?”
Her quiet laugh is melodic like a forest nymph, and I nearly vomit in my mouth for noticing that. “I was opening another sort of chakra.” She looks ahead for a few breaths before continuing. “I’m not used to sleeping alone.”
I look at her with an open surprise that probably is a little too open. “Really?”
She smacks my shoulder with her hand. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“I met you naked in my backyard. Can’t blame me. ”
“I suppose I can’t,” she chuckles. “But not that type of alone. The house is too quiet. I live with my grandma, and she’s not here today.”
My heart drops. “What? What happened to her?”
“Oh gosh, nothing,” she says quickly. “She’s just staying at my sister’s place because it’s next to the place where she plays bingo on Fridays.” She scratches her nose. “Nightmares come more often when no one is around.”
My head whips toward her only to find her lips pursed tightly together like she just realized she said too much.
Why would she have nightmares? She seems like the person who would give me nightmares with her naked escapades in my backyard.
I’m about to make a joke about that when I realize that her nightmares are real. Just like mine.
“Yeah. I get that.” It’s all I can say because this is not the type of conversation I’d have with someone after knowing them so short a time.
Or ever. Maybe the reason I can’t sleep is my niece being upstairs, and I worry about her.
I’m so used to living alone that I can’t relax with someone in my space.
A kid is a big responsibility, and there’s no way I’m failing this task.
Especially if my mind chooses this night to relive some of the bad memories from the past.
“Why can’t you sleep?” she asks when it’s clear I’m not bringing it up myself.
I shrug—my non-sleeping demons are for me only.
She grins. “Maybe you should open your own sleeping chakras?”
I snort. “Rookie here.”
“My yard is at your disposal.” She waggles a thumb.
“Even with peaches covering the light?” I ask, turning my head to her.
Her chuckle is light and breathy. “Even with them.”
“No, thanks.” I smirk. “No naked runs, got it?”
“Can’t promise.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, trying to stop her from laughing. At me, probably .
My eyes narrow at her. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Does it really make a difference?”
“Nora,” I growl a warning. She’s enjoying this, I can tell. Her eyes are shining with humor, like the knowledge that I know her name is the best gift I could give her in the middle of the night.
“So, we’re on a first name basis?” She tilts her head, a flood of hair sweeping the side of her face. “What’s your name? It’s not Steve, I suppose?”
Clearly she remembers her grandma calling me that.
“No.” I realize I’m practically snarling and work to smooth it. “Your grandma couldn’t remember it, and I didn’t tell her otherwise.”
“She sure couldn’t,” she mumbles vaguely, a softness in her voice that pulls at an unfamiliar part of me. Her grandma’s gift for disarming me must be hereditary.
I clear my throat. “It’s Jericho.”
“I know.” Her face stretches into a big smile, the kind of smile that says she’s ten steps ahead of me, and she knows it. I grit my teeth, trying not to let that bother me.
“How?” I manage to ask, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. I think of the worst possibilities—a whispered warning, a scandalous old rumor passed along by the town gossips.
“Small town.” She shrugs one shoulder. Her cover shifts with the movement, falling a little lower and showing a little more skin as it slides off, making my mind blank and my neck hot.
Another silence stretches between us, but not a comfortable one this time.
When it becomes a little too uncomfortable, and I don’t know what to say or do anymore, I stand up, dusting off my pants with more force than necessary. “Right.” I know what she’s talking about because I grew up in one. “I’m gonna go.”
“Yeah.” She scratches her neck, drawing my attention to it.
Trying to avert it is useless because I notice tiny goosebumps on her skin, and suddenly they are the only thing I can focus on.
It feels too intimate to be here alone with her, in the cover of darkness while the rest of the world is asleep.
I blink the fog away and turn around to head back home when her quiet voice makes me pause.
“The milk was for your niece, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was,” I reply simply. “It helps with her anxiety.”
Her head tilts forward, making her hair fall forward and cover her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know.”
I nod, not knowing what to say—her little stunt pissed me off because the milk was for my niece, but she looks so miserable right now, so… vulnerable that I’m not able to push her further.
“Good night,” she whispers with a small smile.
“Night,” I reply and head home.
My heart is lighter. Maybe the fresh air helped.