Chapter 23
J ericho
The doorbell wakes me up from a deep dream on the couch. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for Nora to come back from work.
A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s well past eight. This is the time we usually hang out on our front porches if she doesn’t close the diner. She doesn’t today—I know her schedule.
Between waking up at ungodly hours because of the damn rooster and trying to finish renovations before I head to another job, I feel half alive. The only thing keeping me awake is the thought of our evening meetings.
When I left for almost two weeks, I didn’t expect that feeling in my chest. That constant itch that something was missing which got scratched only when I received a message from her. That’s when I knew I was fucked.
Last night I got even less sleep than usual—the lights went off, and I can’t sleep in total darkness.
So when I finished some of the repairs around the house this afternoon, I brewed myself some of Roman’s mud water I secretly have come to love just so I could stay awake for our regular chat.
Looks like it didn’t help, because I just found myself awakened by the doorbell.
The forward woman from city hall waiting at my door with a sultry smile is about the last thing I need.
A city inspector holding permits over my head, offering a barter.
To some, a dinner exchanged for a permit might not be a big deal, but it is for me.
The woman gave me an ick before, and now, after all my time spent with Nora, I don’t even want to be in the same room with her.
“Well, hello, Jericho. We need to discuss your permits, and possibly your license. Since you’ve already started working on the house, I heard. We need to do the inspection so I can give you that permit you wanted from me.” She glances behind my back inside the house.
The timing for inspection is odd, and we both know that. But her mentioning my license stopped my initial desire to shut the door in her face. I need to deal with her and send her on her merry way before it becomes too late for my recurring evening with my witch.
“Here is where you invite me in.” She reminds me she’s still standing there while I’m scratching the back of my head, trying to shake away the dream. “I really need to check the property before I decide if I can sign that permit.”
I don’t have much of a choice at this point.
I don’t know how to deal with women most of the time, and angering her doesn’t sound like a good start for me if I ever want to do business here.
So I let her inside, leaning against the doorframe, wondering how long this is going to take and hoping that Nora will still be there by the time the inspector is done.
A quick glance toward her porch makes me wonder why she’s not there—it’s our usual time, and neither of us have failed to show up. Well, until today. I failed .
The woman is all business at first. She walks through the living room, points out the new drywall I’ve been working on, and I secretly hope she won’t notice the rewiring in the kitchen.
I got my plumbing and building permits thanks to Roman’s friend, but this woman has still been holding off on the electric.
While I already started working on electric.
I follow her around, nodding along and smiling at the right places.
My actions are automatic because my eyes keep darting to the wall clock—it’s almost past our time with my annoyingly interesting neighbor.
What is she doing now? Why wasn’t she on the porch?
I thought I saw movement in the shadows but couldn’t make her out.
Meanwhile, the inspector keeps roaming around my house. This is the third time she’s walked around the kitchen island, tracing her fingers over the counter. I make a mental note to wipe it down when she’s gone.
On the fourth round, I get an odd feeling that she’s not planning on leaving anytime soon.
“So, you’ve done all this work yourself?” she asks, her voice smooth as she trails a finger along the new countertop for the fifth time.
“Yeah,” I grunt, not offering more explanation. My name is on the fucking permit, I’m sure she can read it.
She turns, smiling in a way that suggests she’s sizing me up for something more than just a formality. “It’s impressive. Most people don’t tackle these kinds of projects on their own.”
I shrug, trying to brush it off. “That’s literally my job.”
She steps closer, her eyes not on the countertops anymore but on me, and I finally catch on to what all of this is. She’s not here for an inspection. She’s here to finish what she started. I get the feeling she’s probably one of those people who doesn’t take rejection lightly.
“Look,” I say, clearing my throat and stepping back a little, putting some distance between us. “If you’re done with whatever paperwork you need, I’ve got to get to sleep. I have a long day tomorrow.”
She doesn’t take the hint. Instead, she moves closer, her fingers brushing the edge of my sleeve like she’s trying to play it off as casual. But there’s nothing casual about the way her smile curves up at the edges, sly and knowing.
“You see,” she says, her voice dropping, “after our unfortunate meeting, I thought we might try again.” She confirms my suspicion, and I’m beginning to understand that I’m probably fucked with any future relationships with city hall.
“We don’t get something like you around here often, and I’m extremely bored in this town. ”
Something like me . Like she’s talking about some sort of property. A fucking object. What I’ve been treated like for nearly a decade.
She bites her lower lip, making me go stiff, the air between us going from awkward to tense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. But I think our inspection here is done.”
Before I can figure out how to shut this down, she moves faster, closing the gap between us.
Her hand lands on my chest, and she leans in, her lips aiming for mine.
It takes me a beat too long to react, to push her back, and just as I’m grabbing her wrist to stop her, I catch a flash of movement outside the window over her shoulder.
Nora.
Fuck.
She’s standing by her window, looking straight at us. Her eyes go wide, and for a second, I see the hurt and confusion that cuts through her usual smirk she has around me. But before I can react, she’s gone, shutting her curtains closed and retreating into her house like a shadow.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, shoving the woman back, maybe a little harder than I need to. She stumbles, looking surprised at first. But then her expression changes to annoyed, her face twisting into something angrier. Something that promises trouble.
“What’s your problem?” she snaps, glaring at me as she straightens her shirt.
“My problem?” I spit back, my voice rough with frustration. “My problem is that you’re not here for a damn inspection, and you just made sure to make a mess for me.” My eyes instinctively dart toward the window, where Nora’s window is in the direct line of view.
The woman follows my eyes. “Nora the Looney?” Her face twists with a disgusted laugh. “Please tell me you are joking, and I didn’t just waste my time here.”
The wave of anger that hits me is more powerful than I’ve ever felt. “You have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”
“Do you?” she asks with a raised brow. “That woman is the town oddball, and not in a good way. Everyone talks about her. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.
” She takes a step toward me just as I take off toward the door.
“All that woo-woo shit she wears on her like a Christmas tree can repel just about anything.”
“Thank you for coming, inspector,” I almost hiss through gritted teeth, too mad to speak normally.
She scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever, Jericho. I’ll see you next time you need something from the town officials.”
My teeth grind even harder as I speak. “Goodbye.”
“You are probably just as psycho as she is,” she says, throwing the last shot of poison before disappearing down the steps of my porch. “Good luck with your house.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound ominous at all.
As I watch her car disappear, I get a queasy feeling in my stomach.
Like something big just happened but I can’t put a name on it.
My eyes dart to Nora’s house—she’s nowhere to be seen.
All the curtains on the side of her house facing mine are closed shut.
She saw us, and it’s only logical to think what she assumed.
We are not a couple. But I’d like us to be…
something. We don’t need to put a label on whatever this is.
I’ll never be part of any couple. I prefer to stay single since I don’t know any other way.
But somehow, deep in my chest, I know I’m lying.
We’re not a couple, yes. But we are friends.
Otherwise, why would we spend hours talking in the dark?
She saw us. She made an assumption I’d probably make too. What would I think if I saw Nora kissing a man in her house?
A sudden wave of rage bursts through my body, and I find my fists clenched by my sides. That was unexpected. Forcing myself to relax, I glance at her house one more time before disappearing inside my house.
I’ll be here tomorrow and see if she shows up too. She probably just needs time to forget what she saw. A night should be enough.
One night might not be enough, as I learn the hard way.
The next morning, I find Nora in the grocery store which is odd on its own because I know she’s supposed to be working at the diner this morning.
Saturdays are usually busy, and they need extra hands, so I can’t imagine she’s slacking on that in favor of shopping.
That’s not Nora—she’d never let her people be swamped while she’s off running errands.
Nora’s ravaging through a pile of apples, throwing them all aside. She appears to be wearing more crystals than normal, with several layered across her chest on chains of varying lengths in addition to her usual earrings.
I take a step toward her but pause, suddenly feeling nervous. Why the hell would I feel nervous? I’m not a fuckin’ teen and I haven’t done anything wrong. So, disgusted with myself, I square my shoulders and keep heading her way with surer footing.
She doesn’t see me at first, or maybe she’s just pretending not to.
“Hey,” I start, stepping closer, but she shoots me a look so cold it freezes the words in my throat and then keeps going through apples as if they’ve personally offended her. “I thought you’d be at the diner.”
She shoots me another angry glare, but other than that, she keeps ignoring me.
Sighing loudly so she can hear, I ask, “Is everything okay? I really thought you’d be at the diner.”
“So you could sneak out here without meeting me?” she murmurs under her breath, but I still hear it.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she replies louder. “I’m busy,” she adds flatly, not even looking up as she drops a few apples into her bag. Her movements are sharp, almost angry. The poor apples are getting quite a hit.
I bite back another sigh, trying to keep my voice steady. “You didn’t see what really happened last night.”
She finally looks up at me, and I’m met with a fire in her eyes, but it’s not the kind that warms someone.
It’s the kind that burns them to ashes. “Really? So I shouldn’t believe my own eyes?
” Then she returns to her apples, dismissing me.
“Besides, it’s none of my business what you do in your own house. Or who.”
Grinding my teeth together just like I did the whole time the inspector was in my house, I fire back, “You’re right. It’s not.”
Her mouth hangs open just as she’s about to throw another apple but my way this time. It stays open for some time before she closes it. Not fast enough that I don’t see her little pink tongue peeking out for a second. Her throat jerks with a swallow, and I instantly feel like a prick.
My anger deflates as I sigh. “Nora.” My voice is soft.
Her anger only simmers more. She narrows her eyes at me, grabs three apples, throws them into her cart, and moves past me, running the wheel of her cart over my foot. On purpose, I imagine. I bite my tongue to not say something else I’ll regret.
“Nora,” I call firmer.
But she doesn’t reply. Her shoulders take a defiant stance as she squares them back, solidifying her defensive walls. I stand like an idiot in the grocery store, watching her stride away, and it feels like I’m losing something I never had.
Or maybe she just needs a little more time. Maybe I do too. I’ve never chased anyone just so I could explain my actions, and I’m not about to start now.
The next few days are hell. Everywhere I go, I run into her, but she won’t give me the time of day. It’s like she’s perfected the art of acting like I don’t exist, and every time I try to talk to her, she shuts me down before I get two words out.
By my fifth attempt, I stop trying, angry at her and myself for even making it this far. Why the hell am I so convinced I have to explain anything to her? She’s right, I don’t owe her shit. Or anyone for that matter.