Chapter 16
N ora
I close up the diner and walk to my car, my head is far away from reality, replaying today’s events on repeat. My head being in the clouds must be why I don’t notice right away a figure standing next to my car.
“Hello, Nora.” Dick’s voice sounds a little off. He’s leaning on the driver’s side of my car, preventing me from getting in, unless I want to push him away. And he’s not a small guy, so I don’t see that happening if he doesn’t want it to.
He’s never been violent, so fear is not my first reaction. Even though the tiny hairs on my back rise up.
“What do you want, Dick? I’m tired and want to go home.” I take a stance in front of him with arms crossed over my chest.
“Richard,” he corrects me for the millionth time.
He’s always seemed to think me using his full name automatically grants him more respect.
He always told me to call him Richard while everyone else was allowed to call him Dick .
I never knew why until we broke up. He tilts his head to the side. “Who was that?”
“Who?”
“You know who.” Yep, he definitely sounds off. “The asshole who ate my meatloaf.”
A small shudder runs through my body—looks like I’ll forever be deliciously triggered by the word. “He ordered it first, so he got it first. Now, move away so I can get into my car.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets without moving an inch.
“C’mon, Nora. Just admit you wanted to aggravate me, so I’d give you my attention.
” He sounds and looks so sly, I almost vomit in my mouth, wondering how I didn’t see it before.
I dated him for a few years before shit flew with the wind but I saw no warning signs.
Looking at him with obvious disdain, I say, “You are delusional, Dick, and you need to back the hell away from me.”
His demeanor instantly changes. He pushes away from my car, dropping his fisted hands by his sides. He’s much larger than me, almost as big as Jericho, and the top of my head barely reaches his shoulders.
This must be the first time since I’ve known him that I begin feeling truly uncomfortable. His presence is sizable, his displeasure with me is palpable, and to my shame I admit that the first ripple of fear runs through my mind.
He takes a step toward me, his eyes dark.
I almost step backward but quickly regain my posture, refusing to show him my fear. “Dick, you need to move away so I can get to my car.”
“You want to play it rough, huh? Maybe you want me to stay here. Is that what you learned in the big city without me, playing rough?”
He’s gone insane, I’m certain of it. There’s no freaking way this will end well.
“Dick, you have to?—”
I don’t finish because his hand shoots out, grabbing my arm. “Have to what, honey? If that bitch in your diner thinks I’m such a joke, I probably should prove to you otherwise. What do you think?”
I freeze, not knowing what to do. My whole body turns into an icy statue. I’ve never been good with violence, especially when I’m in the thick of it. Violence pushed me to become the weirdo I am now, after all. It’s easier to hide behind my crystals than face the anger of the world.
I want to tell him to leave me alone. I want to tell him to get the fuck out of here. But I can’t. Because my tongue is frozen along with my body. Just like what happened years ago.
His grip on my arm is firm. Bruising. His intentions are not very clear, but I can say for sure they’re not very favorable for me.
“Get the fuck away from her,” comes a booming voice from behind me, and for the first time in the past minute I’m able to gasp for air.
I haven’t known Jericho for long, but somehow his presence brings my body back to life. In a literal sense. My body unfreezes, letting me get a lungful of chilly air.
“Get off me, Dick,” I hiss.
An evil, one-sided smile stretches across his face. He knows I’ve gained my footing back, so he knows the exact moment I lost it. Which makes me vulnerable. Very vulnerable.
He releases his grip and steps to the side with his hands thrown in front of him in mock surrender, which cannot be from my weak attempt to scare him off.
And sure thing, an arm wraps around my shoulders and shoves me behind a wide back.
My nose is nearly squashed into a sweat-smelling flannel—the man is not wearing a jacket—and the warmth from his body starts slowly seeping into me.
“You’re Jerome or something, right?” Dick asks with a smile in his voice. That evil smile I begin hating more and more with every passing second. He’s never been violent toward me, but I’ve just seen another side of him I didn’t even know existed.
Ignoring his nonchalance, Jericho fixes his gaze on the man in front of him, speaking with a tone of authority that makes Dick seem almost inconsequential. “You touch her without her permission again?—”
The words hardly leave his mouth when Dick interrupts, dripping in sarcasm. “And what? What will you do?” His voice rises, full of arrogant challenge, as if daring Jericho to act. He’s fishing for a reaction, and everyone here knows it.
I feel the hardness of Jericho’s body as his back, already taut and coiled like a spring, tenses further.
An instant tension fills the air, crackling like a wire pulled too tight.
With my nerves stretched thin, I do the only thing I can think of: I place my hand gently between his shoulder blades.
I don’t know why I do it, but it feels like the right thing.
It’s almost instinctual, an act of desperation to keep him from snapping.
My fingers tremble against the fabric of his shirt, betraying the anxiety I don’t want either of them to see.
Jericho’s voice dips even lower, a dark rumble that promises a storm. “Try yourself,” he warns, each word a threat, “and find out.”
I’ve always hated how easily men like Dick resort to violence when they can’t use their words to win.
But in this moment, my hatred takes a back seat to a strange, unexpected relief.
I’m thankful that I have Jericho standing between me and the worst of whatever this might be.
He’s like a shield, preparing to absorb the danger so I won’t have to.
It seems that having the scarier beast on your side is a good way to survive another day.
I can barely breathe as I wait for Dick to lash out, to push back harder, to spew some sort of crude remark that will set everything off.
But instead, he lets out a dismissive laugh that cuts through the tension like a knife.
“Didn’t peg you for a guy who likes leftovers,” he says, provoking Jericho further.
It’s clear Dick finds all this amusing. His expression is maddeningly smug, as if he’s already won some invisible game.
I can see the way his eyes flick over to me, as though he’s the only one in on a secret, and I know he’s doing it to get under Jericho’s skin.
I feel Jericho shift, his stance changing as if he’s preparing to strike.
It’s exactly the reaction Dick is trying to bait out of him, to get him to make the first move so he can paint himself as the victim.
Terrified of where this is heading, I do the only thing I can.
I push past my own fear and step around Jericho’s massive frame to get between them, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m close enough to see every flicker of arrogance in Dick’s eyes, and I hope the determination in mine will be enough to force him to back down.
If I can just make this about me, not about some primal showdown between two stubborn men, maybe I can stop them before it gets any worse.
“Richard.” My voice is breathless, but I hope it’s strong enough that they don’t hear the shakiness beneath it. “You really need to go.”
It’s a gamble, but it’s the only play I have. I wait for Dick to push back or throw some sort of crude remark, but he lets out a laugh. “You two aren’t worth my time.” His gaze moves toward me. “Especially you,” he nearly spits out.
Jericho’s body moves forward, carefully pushing me aside on the way.
My arm acts faster than my brain and shoots out, wrapping itself around his torso and stopping him.
His stomach is hard under my touch. His whole body is.
Taut like a guitar string ready to snap and damage any hand that gets in its way.
But a miracle happens, and Jericho—or his body—listens.
Small me manages to stop the unstoppable force of Jericho, and I have zero doubts that he wouldn’t even feel my touch if he didn’t want to.
I also know that Dick, with all his bravado and gym mass, has nothing on Jericho.
Something about this man screams primal to me, in all kinds of ways.
“Get the fuck away from here, Dick .” His name on Jericho’s lips sounds like it’s disgraceful to even say out loud, and I couldn’t agree more.
Peeking from behind Jericho’s back, I find Dick watching the wall of a man I’m currently hiding behind like he’s his new worst enemy. That’s bad. I don’t like Jericho much, but I wouldn’t wish an enemy like my ex on him.
Don’t you though? Like him very much?
Shaking my head to myself, I try pulling Jericho back again, reminding him about lil’ old me still holding him hostage. It’s very much fruitless—his body is tense until Dick retreats with a loud, mocking laugh. Only then does my neighbor turn to me.
“Are you okay?” His voice is rough. Angry. Just like his demeanor. His pupils are dilated, nostrils flared. But even with all this anger, I have zero fear around him. Including from other people. He chased away my paralyzing fear in Dick’s presence the moment his voice reached my ears.
“I am. Thank you for coming.” Concentrating on the present, I ask him, “Where did you come from anyway?”
His assessing gaze scans my face, lingering on my eyes for a few seconds longer before he speaks. “I was at the lumberyard.” He throws his thumb behind him. “I have a big project coming up not far from here, and I prefer to shop local.”
I nod, agreeing with him. “You talked with Hunter?”
“Yeah.” His face tenses all of a sudden. “Why?”
“Nothing.” I shrug one shoulder. “He’s usually not a very talkative type.”
A faint smile grazes Jericho’s lips. “And I wondered why we got along so fast.”
Squinting my eyes at him, I smile. “I bet you did.”
I agree with him though—I like Hunter too.
He’s a local Grinch of sorts, a misunderstood man who prefers hiding on his mountain behind giant logs he likes to rip with his bare hands.
I swear I saw him do it once when I was younger and he was still out and about around town.
But things change for a lot of us, including the poor recluse Hunter.
Feeling Jericho’s concerned eyes on me, I realize I haven’t thought about what just happened in a minute, being distracted by small talk and the way his worried, gray eyes stare into my face like they’re trying to read it.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely, placing my hand on his arm. Somehow, it feels important to do right now.
He grunts something incomprehensible and nods at my car. “You can drive, and I’ll follow you.”
“You don’t have to. You know, if you have something to do.” A sudden wave of shame washes over me for what just happened, like it was all my fault, and for the time he’s wasting standing here with me. “I can get there by myself. No big deal,” I say, looking everywhere but at him.
“Nora,” he starts with a sigh, “get the fuck in your car and drive home, so I can follow you. It’s been a long day.”
“Okay!” I exclaim too loudly, secretly happy with the prospect of him following me home. My brain understands that situation with Dick was a one-time deal (hopefully), but my emotions are still all over the place.
Starting the car, I wait for him to get to his truck. I’m not ashamed to admit I follow his movement in the side mirror, and my gaze keeps dropping to his tight ass in those worn-out jeans. I’ve never been an ass person, but I’m being converted as I speak.