Chapter 24 Odin
The scent of coffee and something sweet pulls me from sleep. For a moment, I lie still, disoriented by the unfamiliar sensation of waking to cooking sounds. Since Sarah died, mornings have been silent affairs—just me and Stevie, fumbling through breakfast routines before school and work.
But this morning, laughter floats up from the kitchen.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and run a hand through my hair.
The scene that greets me stops me in my tracks.
Nicola stands at the stove, her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head, wearing what appears to be one of my old band t-shirts over her pajama shorts.
Stevie perches on a stool beside her, carefully measuring flour into a bowl.
"That's perfect," Nicola says, her voice warm with approval. "Now we need to add the baking powder."
Nicola glances up and catches me watching. Her smile, sleepy and intimate, hits me square in the chest.
"Good morning," she says. "We're making pancakes."
"I can see that." I cross to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup. "Need any help?"
"We got it covered," Stevie announces proudly. "I'm the chef today."
"Chef Stevie," I say, bowing slightly. "I look forward to sampling your culinary masterpiece."
We settle at the kitchen table, Stevie chattering about her plans for school today.
Nicola listens attentively, asking questions about her friends and projects. I watch them together, marveling at how easily Nicola has slipped into our lives, how natural she is with my daughter.
"These are delicious," I say, taking another bite of pancake. "Chef Stevie, you've outdone yourself."
Everyone bustles about gathering backpacks, keys, and lunches as we prepare to start our day.
After dropping Stevie at school, I head to my mother's house. She's offered to take Stevie for the afternoon and evening so I can focus on some pressing work issues—namely, dealing with Greg Hoyston's latest attempts to block my permits.
"You look happy," my mother observes as we sit in her sunroom, drinking tea.
"Do I?"
"Mmm." She studies me over the rim of her cup. "It's a good look on you. I was beginning to think I'd never see it again."
I shift uncomfortably. "I've been happy."
"You've been functioning," she corrects gently. "There's a difference."
I can't argue with that. Since the accident, I've gone through the motions—building my business, caring for Stevie, putting one foot in front of the other. But happiness?
That's been in short supply.
"It's Nicola, isn't it?" she asks, though it's not really a question.
"Partly," I admit. "She's... unexpected."
My mother smiles. "The best things usually are."
I leave Stevie with promises to pick her up tomorrow morning, then spend the rest of the morning on a productive conference call and later, a frustrating meeting with the town planner where Greg continues to obstruct my project.
I return to the pool house feeling like at least I got a lot accom;ished if not yet resolved.
Nicola is already home by the time I pull into the driveway, her voice drifting through the open window as I step out of my truck.
She is on the phone, her tone tight with worry.
I recognize the edge in her voice—the same one I hear countless times since she taken on the daunting task of saving her family’s Victorian home.
It is a beautiful relic, sitting proudly on Maple Avenue, but it is also a money pit.
And Nicola, with her determination, is doing everything she can to keep it standing.
I walk into the living room, the scent of fresh paint and sawdust lingering in the air. Nicola is pacing, her phone pressed to her ear, her green eyes clouded with stress.
She looks up as I enter, her lips curving into a faint smile before she returns to her call.
“Thanks, Stanley,” she says, ending the conversation with a sigh. “They need to bring in a crane to remove the tree safely. Apparently, it’s more precarious than they think—if they try to cut it up where it is, it could cause more damage to the house.”
I lean against the doorway, crossing my arms. “The problem is, a crane means more money. Money I don’t have.” She laughs, but it is a hollow sound, devoid of its usual warmth. “I’m starting to think the universe is telling me to let go of that house.”
“Hey,” I say, stepping closer. “Don’t talk like that. We’ll figure this out.”
You ’re right,” she murmurs. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about the money, the house, everything falling apart.”
“Shh,” I whisper, gently guiding her to the couch. “Take a minute to breathe.”
She lets me lead her, her resistance melting as she sinks into the cushions.
Her hair spills across the couch, a cascade of brunette waves that frames her face.
I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way they hunch as if carrying the weight of the world.
I kneel behind her, my hands resting on her shoulders, and begin to massage them firmly.
My thumbs press deep into the tight muscles, working out the knots one by one.
“That feels… amazing,” she admits, her voice low and husky.
I smile, leaning closer, my lips brushing her ear. “Good,” I murmur, my hands sliding down her arms, tracing the curve of her waist. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I feel her shiver as my fingers linger.
Nicola turns her head, her eyes meeting mine, dark and heavy with desire. “I’ve missed you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I pause, my hands still on her, and lean in, my lips capturing hers.
The kiss is slow, deep, and hungry, her mouth opening to me as I taste her need.
Her hands find my shirt, pulling it off, her fingers tracing the muscles of my chest. I groan softly, breaking the kiss to trail kisses down her neck, my hands moving to the buttons of her blouse.
She arches into my touch, her breath quickening as I expose her soft skin. “You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, my lips brushing her collarbone.
Nicola moans, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. “Take me,” she whispers, her voice raw with want.
I don’t need to be told twice. My hands move to her skirt, sliding it down her legs, baring her to me. Her skin is flushed, her body trembling as I kiss my way down, my mouth mapping every inch of her. She gasps, her fingers digging into the couch, her hips rising to meet my touch.
“ God, you feel so good,” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear as I move back up, my hands guiding her to the edge of the couch. She spreads her legs, her eyes locked on mine, and I kneel between them, my mouth and hands working in unison, driving her higher and higher.
Her breath comes in sharp gasps, her body tightening like a coil ready to snap. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice thick with need.
I smile against her skin, my touch relentless, until she cries out, her body arching off the couch as she shatters around me. Her release is a sight to behold, her face flushed, her body trembling with the force of it
I rise above her, my eyes drinking in the sight of her, flushed and breathless.
She reaches for me, her hands pulling me down, her lips pressing against mine in a kiss that is wet and demanding.
I move between her legs, our bodies aligning, and she wraps herself around me, her nails digging into my back as I thrust into her.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice a ragged exhale. “Just like that.”
I move with her, our bodies in perfect rhythm, the tension of the day melting away as we lose ourselves in each other.
Her climax comes again, harder this time, her body clenching around me, her cries echoing through the room.
I follow, my release surging through me, her name on my lips as we collapse together, breathless and spent.
For a moment, the world is still, the only sound our ragged breathing. Nicola’s arms tightened around me, her cheek pressed to my chest. I feel a sense of peace settle over me.
I brush her hair back, my fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and contentment. “Same for you.” I hold her as we fall asleep. She is mine.