Chapter 40
J ericho
I barely sleep that night. Her disappointed face is imprinted on my mind until exhaustion takes over and I finally drift off to sleep. I wake up with a start at three a.m., my heart hammering in my chest.
Love language.
The phrase keeps echoing in my head. Something about it makes me feel cornered, like I’ve been caught in a lie I didn’t know I was telling. And maybe I have been. Maybe I’ve been pretending I don’t know what this is between us when I do.
I get up, pull some gray sweatpants on, and pace the living room like a caged animal. The house is too quiet. Too empty. I stare out at the darkness beyond the porch light, at the space between my place and hers.
What am I doing? What am I waiting for? For another guy to ask her out and her to finally agree because I waited too long?
Without thinking it through, I grab my jacket and walk outside. The night air hits me like a slap, cold enough to make my lungs burn. The snow crunches under my boots as I cross the yard, the only sound besides the hammering in my chest.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m at her door, knocking softly, then louder when there’s no answer. I don’t even know what time it is anymore. The lights flick on inside, and I hear shuffling footsteps.
The door opens, and there she is—sleepy eyed, wrapped in a giant, white cardigan, hair a wild mess. She blinks at me, confused.
“Jericho?” She pokes her head outside for a second and looks around. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes. That’s my love language.”
She stares at me, blinking slowly, her hand still on the doorknob. “What?”
“Yes. When you asked me if I was explaining my love language.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended. Faster too. “The answer is yes.”
Her eyes widen. She’s fully awake now.
“Yes,” I repeat. “If you are still interested. In my love language.”
“You came to my house at—” she glances back at a clock I can’t see “—three in the morning to tell me that?”
I shift my weight, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this is. “I couldn’t sleep.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “So you decided I shouldn’t either?”
“I didn’t think it through,” I reply, suddenly feeling a little, dare I say, shy.
“That much is obvious.” But there’s no bite to her words. She steps back, opening the door wider. “Come in before you freeze.”
I hesitate, then step inside. Her house is warm, dimly lit by a single lamp. It smells like her—vanilla and something else I can’t name but would recognize anywhere .
“I’m sorry,” I say, not moving past the entry. “I shouldn’t have woken you.”
“Probably not.” She closes the door behind me and leans against it. “But you’re here now. So talk.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not good at this.”
“At what?”
“Words. Feelings.” I gesture vaguely between us. “Whatever this is.”
“I’ve heard that already.” She crosses her arms, waiting. Not making it easier for me.
I swallow embarrassment before speaking. “When that guy was talking to you today?—”
“Nick,” she suggests helpfully.
“Right. Nick.” The name tastes bitter. “When he was flirting with you, I wanted to drag him out by his collar and throw him out on the street.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s… concerning.”
“I know. I wouldn’t have.” I take a deep breath. “The point is, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like how it felt.”
“Felt like jealousy?” Another helpful word. A quirked corner of her lips indicates that she might be enjoying my misery.
“Maybe.” I pace a few steps, then stop. “I don’t get jealous. I don’t feel things like that.”
She sighs, pulling her cardigan together. “Everyone feels things, Jericho.”
I look at her then, really look at her. Standing there in her pajamas, hair wild, eyes steady on mine. Not backing down an inch. She doesn’t look like someone who runs away from things. She doesn’t look like a coward scared of an emotional confrontation.
“I don’t feel them much,” I say quietly. “At least, not before you.”
Something shifts in her expression. Softens.
“I fix things,” I continue. “I make sure your driveway is clear. I repair your pipes. That’s what I know how to do. That’s how I show—” I swallow hard. “That’s how I show I care.”
She takes a step closer. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do.” Her voice is gentle. “I’ve known since the first time you shoveled my driveway while we were fighting.”
“We were fighting?” Teasing seems natural; it’s what we used to do before everything became complicated.
“Fine,” she laughs. “I was mad at you. I had a good reason though.” The memory of another woman’s lips on me makes me nearly sick.
My hand shoots forward but pauses before reaching her face.
When she doesn’t flinch or move away, I gently place my palm on her cheek.
“I didn’t kiss her.” Her lips form a thin line, indicating that she’d rather not revisit that evening, but we must. She needs to know what really happened.
“She came at me. I know how it sounds, but she did. I pushed her away, but you had already pulled the curtains closed.”
Her white teeth peek out as she pulls her lower lip between them. “Then why didn’t you come out that evening? I was waiting for you.”
“You were?” I ask, relieved.
She nods shyly.
Dropping my hand from her face and shoving it into my hair, I sigh. “I fell asleep and woke up when she knocked on the door.”
“Really?” Her tone is full of hope and makes me feel ten feet tall.
“Yes. God, Nora.” I tug on my hair. “I can’t even think about touching someone else, let alone kissing. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Is that why you are so focused on poor Nick?” Her voice turns into a whisper. Like she scared even herself with this question. Because she sure as fuck scared me.
I exhale slowly. “Maybe. Probably. Yes.” My sigh is heavy. “I can’t do what guys like him can. I can’t talk sweetly. All I can do is, well, do something. For you.” I shove my hand into my hair in frustration. “And while I do that, some other asshole can sweettalk you into going out with him.”
“Jericho.”
“I can clear your driveway for the rest of my days while Nick comes for a cuppa tea.” I can’t stop at this point—all these insecurities in my head are playing out like scenarios.
“Jericho.”
“I can do whatever else?—”
“Jericho!” she shushes, throwing her hand in the air and pressing her palm to my mouth.
I mumble under her hand, making her giggle.
“You sure are talking now.”
I stop squirming under her touch—I’ve been talking nonstop since I came here, she’s right. Talking about damn feelings .
“I don’t need you to talk all the time.” Her soft voice feels like gentle strokes inside my chest. “Just tell me where you stand. Just once. And I’ll do the rest of the talking.”
Carefully pulling her hand away from my mouth, I flip it and plant a kiss onto her palm. When I look up at her face, I find her focused on our hands. She bites her lower lip but not attempting to appear seductive. She looks distressed.
“Nora,” I call her name, waiting for her to look at me. “I don’t want to have these murderous thoughts anymore.”
Her brows quickly draw together in confusion, making me chuckle.
“When you are next to me, I don’t need to think about beating up anyone who flirts with you. When you are mine, everyone will know. And I want everyone to know.” Leaning a breath closer, I ask, “Can I let everyone know? ”
Her lips twitch at first, as if unsure how to react at my words, then they slowly spread into a big smile. “You can.”
Even though I anticipated the answer, actually hearing it makes me take in a lungful of air, and somehow, this new breath brings more oxygen than I’ve ever felt.
Her smile grows, slow and warm. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” I admit, and she laughs, the sound filling the quiet of the night.
“Well,” she says, reaching for my hand. “It was worth it.”
Her fingers lace through mine, and I pull her into me, unable to stop myself. She comes willingly, her body warm against mine.
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I murmur against her hair.
“I’m not.” She tilts her face up to mine. “But next time, maybe try before midnight?”
“Next time,” I repeat, liking the sound of it. The promise of it.
I bend down and kiss her, gentle at first, then deeper when she makes a soft sound against my mouth. Her hands slide up my chest, around my neck, and I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I press her against the door.
I can feel the heat of her through the fabric of my shirt, the warm weight of her settling in my arms. My mind is a blur of her—how she smells like vanilla and how she tastes like her favorite tea and something sweeter.
She makes a small, urgent noise that does something wild to my insides, and I kiss her harder, feeling every inch of her against me.
Fucking hell. I want this. I want this so much I can hardly breathe.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I lose track of everything but her pulse, steady and strong, the way I’ve imagined it would be and nothing like I’ve imagined it all at once. She pulls me in tighter, and God, I’m not sure how I managed to wait this long .
She pulls back, breathless. “Jericho.”
“Yeah?”
“My grandmother is asleep upstairs.”
I freeze, then carefully release her. “Right.”
I’m not a fan of the idea of Moon hearing my moans that are sure to follow if I get my hands on Nora’s body.
She laughs quietly, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Rain check?”
I nod, trying to calm my racing heart and rapidly swelling dic—. Cock, my rapidly swelling cock. Never again will I use dick while referring to my penis. “Rain check.”
We stand there, neither wanting to step away first. Her hands rest lightly on my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat matching mine, quick and unsteady.
“I should go,” I say finally, though it’s the last thing I want.
“Or,” she says, voice low, “you could stay. Just to sleep.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Just sleep?”
“Well,” she grins, “mostly sleep. But I promise to be very, very quiet.”