Blue’s Clues is the Best Medicine
Jordy
It’s evening when I wake up, the sky outside dusky and deep blue. Everything feels still, except for the soft thrum of satisfaction pulsing through my body. I feel like clay—molded, pliable, and completely undone in the best possible way. Every ache is a delicious memory.
I turn my head and find Ashton watching me. His eyes are soft, but the heat is still there, simmering just beneath the surface.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” he murmurs.
I smile and scoot closer, pressing my cheek against his warm chest, my leg sliding over his.
His arm wraps around me, pulling me tight.
God, his body feels good, solid, grounding, familiar in a way that surprises me.
A shiver ripples through me at the flash of what we’ve done, how we finally gave in to what’s been brewing for a while.
I grin into his skin, breathing in the scent of him—earthy, masculine, with a hint of soap and sex.
“If I’d known it was going to be like that, I would’ve made a move a long time ago.” I look up at him, biting my lip as I take in his dark eyes, the sharp edge of his jaw, the invitation of his mouth. I could lose myself in this man.
He chuckles, his eyes shining as he reaches to brush a strand of hair from my face and kisses me soft, like we have all the time in the world.
“I guess this whole roommate thing has its benefits,” he says, then ducks when I nudge him. His face takes a serious turn then. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”
I nod, and genuinely, I am. I still feel the raw edges of grief, though I suspect that’s normal, given that this is the first time in years that I’ve actually faced my complicated emotions about Violet, Brayden … all of it.
But I also feel cleansed. It’s like I spent the day swimming in the waves. My lungs hurt, my body weighs heavy, every muscle is sore. But I’m rested and spent. Deliriously happy.
And a little embarrassed.
“I didn’t mean to totally lose it out there,” I say. “Bec and Bob probably think I’m some lunatic.”
“First off, you had a trauma response.” Ashton lifts my chin so that I’m looking at him.
“And not only does Bec not think you’re a lunatic, she recognized what was happening.
She called to ask how you were doing while you were in the shower.
” He kisses my forehead, then pulls me close.
“They adore you, Jordy. We all do.” He peers into my eyes. “I do.”
He kisses me slow, his lips lingering on mine as he strokes my back. I feel so good against his body, enjoying the warmth of him, our legs tangled up in each other under his weighted blankets.
His kiss deepens, and he pulls me closer to him until I’m on top. I can feel how hard he is already, and I’m all for round two. But that’s when my stomach gives a loud growl—loud enough that he pulls back, laughing as he helps me off him.
“I’m going to have to feed you if we’re going to do that again,” he says. I groan when he whips the covers off of us.
“Get dressed up,” he orders, already grabbing a pair of boxer briefs. “I’m taking you on a proper date.”
A proper date means dinner at Charred. Of course it does.
As soon as we pull up, I give Ashton a look. “Seriously? I’ve had their burgers and Manhattans. Not impressed.”
“I don’t know,” he says, cutting me a sidelong glance. “You had three Manhattans last time. Seemed like a fan to me.”
He winks and jumps out of the truck, circling around to open my door like a gentleman. When I hold out my hand, he takes it slowly, his gaze raking down the length of me.
“Jordy,” he says, voice low, “I can’t tell you enough, you’re breathtaking.”
I inwardly roll my eyes, though I’m thrilled he likes the way I look. My silk mauve dress hugs all the right curves and hits mid-thigh, and the strappy gold stilettos give me just the right amount of height. My wrap hangs loosely around my elbows, more for style than warmth.
But the way he looks at me? Like he’s never seen anything more beautiful? Yeah, I feel it.
“You clean up nice yourself,” I say, stepping out and letting my eyes sweep over him. Black suit pants, black silk shirt slightly unbuttoned to reveal just a peek of tattooed chest. And the stubble on his jaw? Dangerous. Especially as I think about that stubble raking along my inner thigh.
I step in close and breathe him in—a mixture of aftershave and his own personal scent that makes my insides melt. “I swear, I could bottle you.”
“Mmm.” His lips brush the edge of my ear. “But for now, let’s get some food in you. We’ve got plans later.”
I bite my lip, then glance toward the restaurant. Just remembering the last time I was here elicits a dramatic groan. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”
We approach the restaurant hand-in-hand, and then his palm meets the small of my back as he holds the door open.
“Ashton!” Griffin’s voice booms from behind the bar. His grin grows wider when he spots me, and his gaze lingers on the way Ashton’s hand stays right where it is. “Well, well. Miss New York returns. Ready for another Manhattan tasting, I see?”
“Yeah, no thanks.” I give him a sweet smile, refusing to rise to his teasing.
“Think I’ll stick to something less tamper-friendly.
Like a bottle of wine—opened at the table, where I can see it.
And maybe, just maybe, you can try serving us like an actual professional.
Think you can manage that, Griff? Or should I send you a customer service manual? ”
Griffin’s smile doesn’t even flicker. He glances at Ashton, offering a wink. “You have a feisty one, huh?”
“Oh, I don’t have anything,” Ashton says, his voice calm but firm. “Jordy’s her own woman, and I suggest you listen to her.”
Griff mock-salutes. “Noted.” He nods toward the hostess. “Seat them by the window. Roasted oysters on the house.”
Dinner at Charred is a whole different experience this time. No side-eyes, no shenanigans—just warm lighting, cozy window seating, and Griffin doing his best impression of a competent server.
The food arrives hot and unburnt, unlike the last time, and the conversation flows as easily as the wine.
“What’s a guilty pleasure you’ll never give up?” I ask, pushing a mushroom around my plate.
He thinks for a beat. “What qualifies as a guilty pleasure, exactly?”
“Something you love but feel vaguely embarrassed admitting. Like it’s indulgent or weird or something you’d never bring up in polite company.”
“What’s your answer?”
I narrow my eyes at him, but with a playful smile. “Nice try, I asked you first.”
His eyes crinkle at the edges, and he tilts his head in thought.
“Oh, I know. So I get these fruit snacks for Lottie. There’s like maybe five or six to a package, and they’re super soft, and easy to chew.
I cannot stay out of them. I give her a package, then I take a package, or I’ll eat one after she’s gone to bed.
One day I had like five of them, one right after another.
Like, I could seriously get more refined snacks, even fruit snacks meant for older kids or adults that have way more in each package.
Instead, I’m eating these little jelly treats like candy.
And they’re not cheap! I buy them in bulk, and I’m still having to replenish them every week because I can’t keep my mitts off them. ”
I laugh at this, though I know damn well I’d be doing the same thing if my house had a box of fruit snacks in it.
“All right, I told you mine. Now tell me your deep, dirty, guilty pleasure, and make sure you spare no details.” He grins, waggling his eyebrows. Then he grows serious. “And not your guilty pleasure of stalking your baby cousin and never visiting her.”
“Hardy har har.” I think for a moment, then recall one that I can’t possibly tell him.
He notices. “That face. Whatever you just thought of, that’s the one.”
I sigh dramatically. “Fine. On days off, when I’m completely burnt out, I stay in my sweats all day with the blackout curtains drawn. No sunlight. No responsibility.”
“So far, that just sounds like a healthy boundary.”
“I’m not finished.” I smirk. “I dig out a secret box of Lucky Charms I keep hidden from myself, pour a giant bowl, and park it on the couch. Then I binge old cartoons, like Rugrats, Kim Possible, Blue’s Clues—but the Steve version, not that Joe dude.”
His brows lift. “You go full nostalgia hermit?” He looks at me like I’m unreal. I duck my head.
“See? I told you it was weird.”
“Actually, it sounds awesome.
“Wait, really?”
He waves down the server. “Can we get the check when you get a sec?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Not interested in dessert?”
He smiles, then looks at me, a wicked look in his eyes. “We’ve got dessert at home.”
When she walks away, he mouths, Lucky Charms , and I swear it’s the second sexiest moment of our day.
An hour later, we’re in sweats, curled up on the living room floor in a nest of pillows and blankets, and we’re each holding a big bowl of Lucky Charms drowning in milk.
And on the screen? Blue’s Clues with Steve. Obviously.
“I forgot how calming this show is,” Ashton says between bites. “Why is it still so good?”
I shrug, transfixed by Steve chatting with Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper. “I used to imagine Steve was my older brother.”
Ashton looks at me, curious but not judgmental. “Really?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have siblings growing up, but I didn’t want to be the oldest. So I made one up.” I smile, a little sheepish. “Steve was always there in my imagination, cheering me on when I tried new things, telling me it was okay to mess up.”
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me as I talk. I take a deep breath and keep going.
“My mom could be…” I sigh. “Well, she was harsh. She’d criticize my clothes or my weight, sometimes in front of her friends. If I spoke up, she’d say I was too sensitive. Steve was my buffer. In my head, he’d defend me, tell her to back off.”
I glance at the screen, blinking at the cartoon dog wagging her tail.