Chapter 29
N ora
My poor ovaries have been ovulating since Jericho kissed me so openly in public, claiming—What exactly? Me? Our relationship? Not sure. But what is sure is that he showed the woman—and me—where his loyalty lies.
When he put himself between Dick and Karina, I’m sure I doubled that egg production my grandmother has been so concerned with.
Besides Roman, I don’t remember a man being so protective over me and my family.
Ever since my parents died, the Moon girls have always been on our own, and having a big, clearly strong man standing up for us feels good.
In fact, much better than I thought it would.
And it’s not only that he’s strong physically, even though his physique is very impressive.
His personality is unwavering. When they created ‘strong and silent,’ they must have thought of Jericho.
He doesn’t need to speak to be threatening.
He doesn’t need to speak to be protective. He just needs to be.
Before I even place an order to Roman, he comes out from the kitchen with the biggest plate we have, and we’re notorious for generous portions. He places the plate with what appears to be triple fried fish in front of Jericho.
“You let me know if you need anything else.” Roman’s accent is a bit thicker than usual which is an indication that he’s emotional.
People who don’t know him might not notice that, but I do.
They share a silent stare which speaks louder than any words would.
Something that only men with a common understanding can do.
And I feel a tiny sparkle of unexpected happiness that they’ve accepted each other so fast. Roman is a big part of my life, always has been.
And it looks like Jericho might become one too, at least I’d like him to.
Jericho inhales the food in moments, and I’m about to offer more when Karina strolls from the kitchen and places another plate in front of him.
He regards her with a quirked brow. “I’ll need a new wardrobe after spending a few weeks in this town.”
“I’ll give you some tips on how to burn a few calories,” she says, nodding in my direction. “Though I doubt you’ll need them.”
With a wicked smile, Karina grabs the coffee pot and flies to the tables while Jericho’s watching her with a smirk. Then he turns to me.
“Will you help me?”
“With what?”
“With burning a few calories,” he explains, biting the inside of his cheek. His playful voice and boyish look on his face make him appear like a new person. Someone carefree and maybe even happy?
“Burning calories?” I repeat his words, without totally comprehending it .
“Yes. Burning calories.” His voice is lower than before while his eyes are trained on my face, unblinking.
Burning calories. My help with it.
Holy cow!
I feel my face quickly turning bright red to match the carnelian necklace adorning my already equally red neck.
And it’s not because I’m prude and opposed to what he’s suggesting, but because I haven’t been on the receiving end of such open flirting for a really long time.
It feels like everyone is watching—which is true, everyone’s eyes are on us even while they’re picking around their plates—and everyone knows.
I am a grown woman and totally unsure why it bothers me so much, but it does.
“Will you?” Feels like his question drops to a low growl, loud enough for only me to hear. “Help me?”
“Jericho,” I whisper-hiss back, feeling overwhelmed but in a good way and not knowing how to respond without sounding like an idiot.
I can’t even look at his face, choosing to focus on the cash register buttons.
Suddenly, I find a few specks of dust between them needing my urgent intervention.
So I grab a cloth and star vigorously wiping the surface, feeling his eyes on my face the whole time.
He’s waiting for an answer, which wouldn’t push me if it was anyone else.
But it feels like it’s very important for him to hear me acknowledge his words.
A quick glance in his direction proves my assumption—he’s starting to look almost shy, his usual confidence is dissolving into the unusually thick air of the diner.
“We can start with hunting our rooster,” I finally whisper as I glance at him from under my lashes.
His lips stretch with a lopsided smile. “Good enough for me.”
“Good,” I say, biting my lower lip.
“Good,” he repeats, letting his smile grow wider. And I let myself swim in the unwavering attention of this man for another long moment before I return to my duties and leave him to a piece of Boston cream pie I saved for him.
The door nearly smacks into the wall when Cheryl walks in with a loud growl of a grizzly bear. “I hate blizzards.”
“Why?” Karina asks, laughing when she sees Cheryl shaking off the snow from her head.
“Everyone just goes nuts.” She walks up to the counter, taking off her uniform jacket when she places it on the empty chair next to Jericho before proceeding to the coffee machine. “And there’s always a party from the big city riding the storm in some tiny ass car and getting stuck mid-road.”
“Always?” Karina laughs louder.
“Every single time there’s snow on the radar.” Cheryl accentuates each word with a light tap of her palm on her thigh.
“Meaning every day?” The question makes sense—we live in Maine after all.
Cheryl pauses for a moment. “Pretty much. But during crazy storms like today, there’s even more people. It’s like they’re waiting around the corner to start sliding down the hill and get themselves stuck in a ditch.”
“Was someone stuck today?”
“Yes,” she moans. “Some not very smart lady. And now I can’t get to her car until all this shit clears out.”
“Wait.” I turn to her. “Did you leave her in a ditch?”
“Pretty much.” She shrugs and takes a sip of coffee. “O-o-oh, this is so good.” Another sip. “I’m frozen.”
“So is the woman in the ditch!” I nearly cry out, not believing that my sister would leave someone like that.
“Relax.” She waves me off. “She’s a mile away from Hunter’s house, so I called him to come and pick her up.”
“Some cop you are,” I mumble, barely able to contain my laughter. As her sister, it’s my job to annoy her, and I can’t let such a good opportunity go .
“I was tired, and she was stupid,” my sister snorts in good-natured humor, not appearing offended.
A towel flies from the kitchen window, making me lose it, and I start laughing. All the stress from the previous hours begins dissolving.
We chat for a few minutes while Cheryl eats her dinner, and once she’s done, she turns toward Jericho.
“Well,” she starts with a smug smile, and I know it can’t be good.
He raises a brow in a silent question while she places one elbow on the counter and leans her chin on her fist. Her face becomes smugger with every passing second while Jericho’s brow climbs higher.
“Well?” he asks when he can’t wait anymore.
“I’ve heard we are almost relatives now.
” Her smile reminds me of a Cheshire cat, showing all her teeth.
I know that smile—she uses it when she wants to grill someone.
Poor Jericho. I probably need to stick around to save him if I don’t want him running away scared out of his mind.
Moons have always been an odd bunch, and no matter how much Cheryl pretends to be ‘normal,’ she’s not.
“Have you?” he asks, side-eyeing me.
“Yep. Heard you proposed in the middle of the diner?”
I nearly choke on air while Jericho’s face remains stoic. Cheryl isn’t pulling any punches and has decided to add her own version to the local snowball of rumors. I knew the situation in the diner would change by the end of tonight but didn’t expect my sister to participate.
Or did I?
“And how did you hear that?” Jericho’s lips twitch.
She shrugs, eyeing me. “Comes with the job description of a good cop.”
“Small town?” One corner of his lips stretches with a half smile.
“Small town,” she sighs, relaxing her shoulders. If it’s not the sign of defeat, I don’t know what is. I thought she’d dig her claws into him but looks like she’s really tired.
“Want more coffee?” I ask, feeling compassionate toward her. On a second look, she has dark circles under her eyes. No make up. Her eyes are shiny.
With a grateful nod, she silently pushes her empty cup toward me and waits for the refill.
As I pour, something about her stillness unsettles me. Cheryl doesn’t do quiet. She chirps, commands, snorts. But what she doesn’t do is sit like this—folded in on herself, elbows propped on the counter like the weight of the world might finally be settling on her shoulders.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah.”
She lies like I do—quick and automatic.
I slide the cup back to her. “You wanna pretend I believe that?”
She snorts softly into her cup. “You’re annoying when you try to be nice.”
“And you’re bad at hiding shit when you’re tired.” I pause. “Want to talk about it?”
Cheryl lifts her eyes to mine. “Not today.”
That tells me enough. That maybe there’s something under all her usual steel—something heavy she can’t unload right now.
So I nod, drop the subject, and walk back to the counter to grab more orders.
We move like that—quiet agreement, quiet support.
It’s not the first time we’ve done this. Won’t be the last.
But even as I help customers and refill syrup bottles, I feel her detaching even more. The idea that it might not be just tiredness begins settling in. Have I been too buried in myself that I haven’t noticed that my sister is struggling with something she doesn’t want to share with me?
And when she finally gets up with a soft “Later,” turns to Jericho, and says something for only him to hear. I want to ask her more. I want to ask what’s happening, but I don’t want to press her because I’m barely holding myself together as it is after all the events of the day.
And since I don’t know which one I want to focus on the most, I let my mind wander into the meaningless tasks of the present like refilling the never-ending coffee, washing cups, and avoiding Jericho’s eyes.