13. “AND NOW I TELL YOU OPENLY, YOU HAVE MY HEART SO DON’T HURT ME”
“AND NOW I TELL YOU OPENLY, YOU HAVE MY HEART SO DON’T HURT ME”
October arrived the way the best things did, slow and then all at once.
The maples along Founders Lane turned first, bleeding from green to amber to a red so deep it glowed from within. Then the oaks burned into a fiery gold. Within a week, the whole town wore autumn like a haul of radiant jewels.
Leaves released from branches in lazy spirals, drifting down sidewalks and gathering in the gutters along Main Street. Children dove into swept piles on their way home from school, forcing residents to rake up the mess again and again.
On Jocelyn’s morning walks with Cordelia, the briny warmth of late summer had shifted toward something sharper, edged with woodsmoke and the cold mineral breath of the sea.
It was getting cooler, but their walks had gotten longer.
And despite her short legs, Cordelia didn’t seem to mind.
She had her autumn vest and would travel a million miles if it meant seeing her new fur-bestie, King.
“Almost there,” Jocelyn told Deelie as she pranced happily down the sea wall.
Despite pulling several winter cardigans from the cedar chest that week, her layers did nothing to protect her from the misty dampness that always clung to the morning air.
It was still early. Even the school buses hadn’t come through yet. But it was worth dragging her ass out of bed at dawn.
He was worth it.
Once King’s baritone bark could be heard through the trees, Cordelia answered back in an excited yip. Three sharp barks, as if to say, come on, Mom, move your ass!
Jocelyn increased her pace, her heart fluttering when Soren’s dark figure came into view. She laughed as King dragged him towards them, not at all heeding the commands he supposedly learned at doggy bootcamp.
“King, heel!”
The giant Great Dane didn’t stop until he was elbows to the ground, bowing in front of the tiny chihuahua. The moose of a dog wagged happily as Cordelia barked and licked his nose in greeting.
“Morning,” Soren said, pressing a kiss to her chilled lips. “Remind me again why this is better than spending the night at my house and letting me drive you home on my way into work?”
“Don’t start.” He knew her reasons even if she wouldn’t spell them out.
It was too easy to fall into something serious too fast with him. This was already more serious than any relationship she’d ever had with a man, and if she slept over as much as Soren wanted her to, she might as well move in with him—and they were light-years away from that.
Or at least they should be, right?
The thought terrified her, not because it implied permanence, but because that permanence wasn’t scaring the shit out of her as it should. She didn’t trust her decision-making skills at the moment, convinced she was in some sort of new relationship trance that would eventually fade.
Terrified to wake up one morning, trapped in a house with a man who looked at her like a parasite he couldn’t get out, she stood her ground and insisted this was the better option.
She and Soren walked side by side, letting the dogs lead. As he did every morning, he handed her a warm tumbler. “Your sugar milk with a dash of coffee, M’lady.”
“Thank you, sir.” He was putting Esther out of business with his fancy brewing system. Whatever kind of beans he used hit her bloodstream like jet fuel.
“You writing today?”
“Yes. I finally got my couple to stop having sex long enough to confront their real issues.”
“Leander’s massive Viking cock?”
“Yes, that and the fact that Thora’s from a rival clan. Their forced marriage might have bound the clans in a political truce, but she still refuses to admit she has feelings for him.”
“Imagine that.”
She elbowed him in the side and made it look like an accident as she took a sip of coffee. “Damn, that’s good.”
“So, you’re writing a fight today?”
“Yes, as long as I can keep their clothes on. Sometimes characters have a mind of their own.”
He laughed, always amused when she talked about her fictional characters as if they were real people. “Well, who can blame them for such wanton behavior when the gods have blessed him with such an impeccable longship?”
“Exactly.” She sighed. “But something bad has to happen, and if I don’t write it soon, I’m going to miss my deadline.”
“So write it.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not?”
It wasn’t writer’s block as much as it was protectiveness. Jocelyn really liked this couple and wanted to put them in a safe little love bubble where nothing could ever harm them.
“Writing’s just a lot more complicated than people realize. There are a lot of mechanics and shit.”
“Ah, I forgot about the mechanics and shit.”
“Shut up.”
They crossed to the dog park and let the dogs off their leashes for a bit.
Tugging her cardigan under her butt, she lowered to a chilled bench. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“The usual—world domination, a bit of competitor espionage, taking you to dinner, then fucking your brains out for dessert.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“Oh, it will be. Especially the evening part.” He stole a sip of her coffee and winced at the sweetness. “We’re so close to voting on this deal. It’s been months of endless planning and research. It’s going to change everything.”
She might not share his excitement over his fleet of fishing ships, but she adored how passionate he got when he talked business. “Ugh, it’s gross how attractive ambition looks on you.”
A breeze cut across the park and she shivered.
“You’re cold. Here.” He unraveled the scarf from his neck and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She tucked her face into the soft cashmere and breathed in his familiar smell.
Yeah, he wasn’t getting it back.
“Thanks.”
As the dogs raced out their zoomies, they passed the time chatting about the mundane details of their life that should have been boring to hear, but lately, everything out of Soren’s mouth interested her. She lived for the boring minutiae of his life like it was her new favorite reality show.
Who were the side characters that filled his world?
What kind of bagels did he love?
Why did he have to arrange things in perfect perpendicular angles? And how many times would he let her get away with turning the items on his bookcase cockeyed just to piss him off?
She wanted to know everything, every kink, every proclivity, and every pet peeve. Like a dog with a bone, she intended to learn every secret he hid.
He had surpassed boyfriend and moved into absolute obsession territory. Especially when he talked about work, because he got so impassioned about what he was doing.
She might not know anything about corporate trade, but she knew he was good at it. It wasn’t cockiness. It was confidence. His self-assuredness in the business realm was incredibly sexy. He talked about the future of Hawthorne Fishery as if every victorious outcome were already won.
She hoped it was, for everyone’s sake, because Soren wasn’t a man who accepted defeat. Deny him his dreams, and he’d burn the world to ash to build them anyway.
“Should I be concerned that your ragged little dust bunny is basically leading my one hundred-sixty-pound prized pedigree around by the balls?”
“Like mother like daughter.”
“King,” Soren called, “Go play in the other sand pile!” King ignored his father and trotted after Cordelia. “He’s totally whipped.”
“Annnd… like father like son.”
“How did I know you were going to go there?”
Smiling up at him with all of her unapologetic cheekiness on full display, she kissed him. “Because you know me so well.”
“Maybe even better than you know yourself.”
Maybe.
Soren was a bit more stealthy in his discovery quest. While she plowed into his private life like a bulldozer, asking blunt questions and making fun of him whenever she couldn’t understand his logic, he simply observed and accepted her weirdness.
Some women got swoony over flowers and chocolates. For her, it had come down to a phone charger.
Soren had one of those expensive phones normal people didn’t own, and the plug didn’t fit hers.
Once he realized, he said nothing, but resolved the situation within twenty-four hours.
Now, there were chargers that fit her phone all over his house, along with her favorite snacks and the body wash she liked.
The first school bus hissed to a stop at the corner. That was their sign to say goodbye. “How is it seven-thirty already?”
Time always passed at light speed when they were together. “See you tonight?” He kissed her and adjusted the scarf to block out the chill.
“Looking forward to it.”
They hooked the dogs to their leashes and suffered the painful pinch that always came whenever they said goodbye. Just a few more hours, and they’d be together again.
God, she was pathetic. But she was too damn happy to actually care.
Jocelyn practically floated into town on a cloud, smirking as she breathed in his scent on the scarf she’d stolen fair and square.
The cove dulled to a gloomy gray under the cold October skies, but the town’s spirits never faded. Autumn was one of the brightest seasons, rivaled only by Christmas and then the upbeat, sweltering months of summer.
The Harbor Crumb, like every other Hideaway establishment, leaned hard into the season.
Esther swapped the lemon scones for maple and pumpkin, so the whole block smelled of cinnamon and browned butter by six each morning.
Jocelyn’s Boston crèmes still waited in their pink box, dependable as the church bells, though now Esther tucked a cider donut beside them without being asked.
“Coffee?”
“Not today.”
Esther’s eyes dropped to the tumbler in her hand, and she lifted her chin like a woman scorned, too prideful to act as it bothered her. “I think your recent glow has something to do with that cup you’re always carrying.”
“My diet’s the same old caffeine, sugar, and wine it’s always been.”
“I didn’t mean what’s in the cup. I meant the man who gave it to you. And by the looks of that pink in your cheeks, he’s given it to you good.”
“Esther! Get your head out of the gutter.”
“That’s not a denial.”