Chapter 44
J ericho
The hinge won’t sit right.
I’ve adjusted it three times already, but the damn thing’s still crooked as if it’s refusing to be fixed out of spite.
Sweat drips down my back, sticking my shirt to my skin.
I could go inside, leave it for another day when it’s warmer, but I won’t.
I need to cool off—if I go inside, I might end up killing my peeping brother.
The light’s different today, sky washed pale, like the clouds forgot how to hold color. Everything feels like it’s waiting. For what, I don’t know. My morning escalated from the calmest I’ve felt in years to a possible murder in minutes.
When I opened my eyes in the morning, the lights were off.
All of them. Completely. I must have been too content, too happy in the evening to bother with turning them back on after our cozy fire.
And truthfully, the thought about the lights didn’t even cross my mind until I woke up next to the warmth of Nora’s body.
So, naturally, I ran to the bathroom to compose myself.
I’m never able to sleep with the lights off. Ever. It’s a habit I was forced into and something I still can’t do without, even years later. It’s a fucked-up thing of comfort. But around Nora, I seem to forget I need any of that.
I give the hinge another go, thinking about tearing this whole damn porch off.
I don’t need it at the back of the house, do I?
One at the front is enough. Even though this one is a screened three-season veranda with a very crooked door, this hinge is enough for my mood to just rip the whole thing off.
I’ve ordered a new glass for it, but the timing for replacing it is just not right.
I should have waited until it’s warmer out, less snowy, but Junie is sleeping upstairs, and I don’t want to wake her up by doing something loud inside.
And I desperately need to do something with my hands, or I’ll end up smashing my brother in his irritating face.
Right when I’m about to give in, I hear a whistling. Sharp, slow, intentional. And annoying as fuck.
“You still fix things when you’re angry?”
I don’t even bother to look up. Just clench my jaw and keep working the bolt. “You would know.”
He cackles. “I would. Why are you half naked in this weather?” His body shudders as he complains like a sissy about the cold.
“I’m wearing a shirt.”
“It’s below freezing,” he counters.
“I’m inside.”
“Inside a shed without heating and with holes in the walls.” The smartass just won’t stop.
After a quick glance around, I look at him pointedly. “There’re no holes in the walls.”
He’s silently watching me with a raised brow.
“Fine. Just two little holes.”
He’s still watching.
With a sigh, I flip him off and go back to the hinge. If he considers a missing window a hole , that’s on him.
The porch creaks behind me. I can feel him settling in, probably leaning against the frame like it’s a throne and he’s just passing through to judge the kingdom. I smell the witch’s brew Nora brought me last week that I didn’t think to hide because I live alone.
Great—he helped himself to my coffee that Nora made for me .
“Junie said you’ve been quiet lately,” he says. “That your texts are one-word answers and punctuation-free.”
I grunt. “They always are.”
“Exactly. How would I know what’s going on with my brother if you don’t talk to her.”
I finally rise, knees popping as I stretch to full height, giving away my age.
The rag in my back pocket gets a quick pass over my hands, rough and stained.
I look him over—clean boots, neat sleeves, smug expression.
Like nothing in the world touches him. That was always the difference between us.
I let the world break me. He sidesteps it.
“Is this why you dragged my niece here, to dig for information about me?”
“Whatever works,” he snorts. “You’ve been blowing off my calls. What else am I supposed to do?”
I send him a quick glare and return to the hinge since I’m not about to explain to him that I didn’t feel like talking to him because I don’t like how he talked about Nora. And because he reminds me of everything I haven’t told her yet.
“Jericho?” His tone is softer . Fuck that .
The wrench slams onto the bench with a clang, louder than necessary. “You here to be useful or just mouth off?”
“I can do both,” he says, sipping my coffee like he paid for it and still not making a move to help. Instead, he pokes his face outside the hole—I mean the missing window—and looks around.
He can pretend to be a clown all he wants, but I recognize his need for control.
“Have you talked to our sister recently?” he asks, trying to peel off a piece of the window molding.
“No,” I grunt, feeling the weight of guilt settling heavy on my shoulders. I should call her more. I should ask her more. “You?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
Concerned, I glance at him. It’s unusual for them to go without calls for so long. They’ve always been closer than me, and I’ve always been jealous. But he had more time to build a relationship with her, and when I got an opportunity to do the same, I didn’t take it, leaving it to them.
“Is she all right?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounds a bit off. “Knee-deep in trauma cases.”
I pick up the hammer, turning it in my palm. “She still working nights?”
“Yeah. Barely sleeping. Still doesn’t complain.”
“She never has.”
“Mom trained that out of her.” His voice wavers at the end—a clear indication of his own guilt. I guess everyone in our family is fucked up in one way or another.
The sound of Mom’s name stops me. My grip tightens on the hammer. I don’t answer right away.
“Mom would like Nora,” Jethro probes carefully. “If you just introduced them, you know.”
I dig inside the toolbox, ignoring his words. Our relationship with Mom has been… strange, and it’s mostly my fault.
“She would say Nora’s got eyes that see too much,” he continues. “’Cause she can see her boy.”
I nod. Just once. She would. Both of us go into our own heads, and I enjoy the silence for a change. Until my brother, of course, opens his mouth.
“You still haven’t told her? ”
A sharp shake of my head is my only answer—we both know he’s talking about Nora.
“How long do you think until she starts questioning where you spent the years you don’t talk about?”
I freeze. The hammer in my hand feels heavier suddenly. My mouth is dry.
“She doesn’t ask,” I lie. She has asked, but I always avoid those questions and try changing the subject right away.
“Don’t wait for that then. Tell her yourself before someone else does.”
I nod silently, knowing he’s right. but the timing is not right. We just found this place where we are happy. Once I feel like she’s ready, I’ll tell her. I have to.
A rustle behind the wall makes Jethro stretch his neck to look to the side of the porch.
“Is that the rooster?”
“Yep.” I don’t even need to check to know it’s him.
“What the hell happened to that thing?”
Curious, I rise to my feet and walk to the window. The rooster stalks out from around the corner. Beady eyes. Aggressive strut. Head bobbing like a prizefighter in the ring. And a lot of missing feathers. Looks like he went a few rounds with a bear.
“I have no idea.” I almost feel bad for the little guy. Almost.
“Why is he marching over here like that?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Jethro sounds panicked.
“Probably smells your fear.” I can’t help myself.
The bird lets out a low, guttural crow—pure menace—and starts flapping his useless wings. I wonder if Jethro knows the bird can’t use them.
“Back off, feathered demon,” he mutters, taking another cautious step away. “You’ve got the wrong brother.”
The rooster explodes into motion.
“ Shit ! ”
Jethro flings the rest of his coffee into the air at the rooster like it’s holy water and stumbles back, crashing into the wall. The rooster makes an unexpected jump onto the windowsill and then drops down next to Jethro, heading toward his feet.
“Go away!”
This squeamish outburst doesn’t sound like my brother at all. This dude used to beat up people twice his size on the ice, and now he’s shrieking when a tiny rooster pecks near his ankle.
I break down, leaning on my knees, shoulders shaking as laughter forces its way out of me.
“You all right?” I ask between gasps.
“Do I look all right?” he snaps, trying to shoo the rooster away who clearly has other plans and keeps charging at my brother. “Get this thing off me!”
“He’s territorial.”
“He’s insane!”
“That might be right.” I lean one shoulder on the wall.
“For real, Jericho.” He pushes the rooster with one foot. “Get this thing off me.”
I walk up to them and shoo the bird away. Not because I’m trying to save Jethro but because I don’t want him to hurt Nora’s pet with his sharp city boots.
The rooster gives his ankle one last peck before flying back through the window, making me wonder if his wings are actually useless after all.
Jethro huffs, slapping his hands against his thighs. “You should warn people before letting feral poultry run free in the neighborhood.”
“He is a part of the neighborhood.” I shrug, making him glare at me.
“I’m never moving here,” he mumbles.
“Were you planning to?”
My joke makes him look away, which makes me realize that it might not be a joke .
“Is that why you’re here?”
His one-shouldered shrug is an answer on its own.
“Why?”
“Junie needs a stable home.”
“I’ve always told you that. What changed?” I cross my arms over my chest.
Turmoil behind his eyes makes me stiffen.
Is there something going on I’m not aware of?
I shipped myself here, to a small town in the middle of nowhere, trying to live my lonely life.
But what’s happening with my family? I haven’t spoken to my sister or Mom in ages.
I’ve seen my niece only once in the last few months.
Is that how I want to live? I’ve seen Nora holding onto her family.
She sees her sister and grandmother every day. Do I want the same? Do I need it?
“Just need a change.” His answer is vague, and we both know that.
“Is Junie okay?”
His sigh is heavy. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” He rubs his face with his hand. “I feel like I don’t know her anymore.”
“She’s a teenager. It’s normal.”
“Look at you giving parenting advice.” His laugh doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s time for a change. I have to do it for her.”
“And you decided to land here?”
“I’m considering places.” He walks to the window and looks outside. “But the rooster just sealed the deal—this place is too hostile for me.”
“Jet.” I rarely use his nickname from the time he used to skate. “Stay for a few days. Junie already likes it here. See it for yourself.”
The sudden idea that they might end up on another coast where I’ll see them only once a year doesn’t sit well with me. Despite my search for solitude, turns out it’s not what I need. Nora showed me that.
“Yeah. ”
“I’m serious,” I push, in hopes he’ll reconsider. “Give this town another chance.”
He doesn’t respond for some time, and I let us be in the silence, not pressing for anything.
“Dad?” Junie’s muffled voice calls before she pushes the door open. “Holy moly!” she cries out. “It’s freezing out there. Hold on.” She disappears for a moment before coming back, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket she pulled from the couch. “Much better.”
When I notice white puffs coming out of her mouth, I start feeling the cold air around. It’s like my body catches up on the temperature only when I see her freezing.
“How are you not cold here?” she asks through shivering teeth.
“Well, your uncle here,” Jethro points his mug at me, “is dealing with his anger, and I always run hot.” The last part is true.
After spending so much time on ice during his youth, his body has adjusted to colder temperatures.
There was always a fight at our house about the temperature on the thermostat.
“A-a-ah.” Junie nods with a knowing smile. “Anger-fixing things. We need that at home. Dad can’t put a nail in the wall to hang a picture.”
Jethro drops his mouth in horror at Junie’s betrayal. “I can put a picture up!”
“Sure you can,” I cackle.
“I can!” A vein on his temple starts pulsing. Just like old times when we were kids and drove each other insane.
“That’s what I said.” I smile, sharing a knowing look with Junie who rolls her eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
“I can’t believe my child and my brother have teamed up against me.” He sounds like an old, grumpy grandpa.
“Junie, do you want me to make you some porridge?” I don’t know how to make porridge, nor do I have any, but I love seeing her disgusted face when I suggest weird foods. It’s an uncle thing.
She makes a gagging face. “Can we go to the diner instead? I saw a TikTok where someone recorded the rooster in front of it. They said it’s his favorite hangout spot.”
“Actually, he was ju?—”
“Sure thing!” Jethro intercepts us by gently shoving Junie back into the house. “Go get dressed, and we will go.”
“Okay! I’ll be ready in a few.” With that, she runs back inside, seemingly forgetting about the cold air because the blanket nearly drops from her shoulders and yet it barely registers with her.
When the door closes behind her, I turn toward Jethro with my arms folded over my chest and the king of all smug smiles on my face.
“No more telling nasty stories about me, or I’ll tell Junie about your meet and greet with the rooster.”
He nods, throwing his hands in the air. “Just keep in mind that that story about the hockey bathroom from the seventh grade was told before we made this deal.”
“Jethro!” I roar, making him laugh like his life is depending on it.
I gather the tools and throw them in the box, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. The rooster cock-a-doodles from Nora’s yard.
“You need to tell Nora, Jericho. Before someone else does,” he finally says, clearly returning to our previous conversation.
“I will.”