Chapter 15
Jack
Iget married in the compound library with my hospital badge clipped upside down to my dress and Remy in the front row trying very hard to hide the fact that his watery eyes are close to spilling over.
Father Donal stands at the head of the room. Before he says a word about vows or binding agreements, he pulls out the amended contract and holds it up so everyone can see.
"At the explicit request of Jacqueline Rivera," he says, his voice carrying to every corner, "the terms of this agreement will be read aloud before the ceremony proceeds."
I stand across from Tiernan in the afternoon light.
Behind him, are his groomsmen: Burke, Callen, Evan with his arm still in the sling.
Remy has somehow ended up in the front row despite being the youngest in the room.
Eight Maddox soldiers, plus Donal, plus the man I'm about to legally bind myself to.
The only person that is here solely for me is my brother, sitting on the far edge of the second row, glancing between Tiernan and me like he’s still trying to figure out how he got here.
I told him with five days to spare, answered all his questions and assured him I want this, but I know he still has doubts. His doubts don’t stop the ceremony or contract from moving forward.
"Article One. The debt incurred by James Rivera is discharged in full. No future claim may be levied against James Rivera or any member of his family in connection with it," Donal reads.
My shoulders drop a fraction. The words I waited three months to hear have finally been spoken aloud and witnessed.
"Article Two. Jacqueline Rivera maintains an active nursing license through the Commonwealth. Access to accredited facilities shall not be restricted, delayed, or impeded by any party to this agreement."
Tiernan watches me, not Donal. His hands are loose. His expression is one I've learned to read. It’s open, certain, and present because I know where to look.
"Article Four. No decision affecting the professional standing, physical safety, or personal autonomy of Jacqueline Rivera shall be made without her direct consultation and participation."
Someone in the back row exhales. Jamie shifts and I catch his nod from my periphery.
"These terms are binding, enforceable under Maddox family law, and witnessed by all present." Donal sets the contract down and looks at me. "Miss Rivera. Do you wish to proceed?"
I think about coffee at four in the morning that tastes like effort and understanding. About a man who broke a stranger's fingers and never mentioned it. About a parking lot and an offer that came late but came real.
"Yes," I say clearly.
The ceremony itself takes under five minutes. There are no rings and no vows about forever or till death. Donal asks if I enter this willingly. Tiernan holds his breath.
I smirk slightly, drag out the silence until my groom looks ready to pass out, then say, “yes.”
Tiernan says yes without taking his eyes off my face. Our pens scratch one after another, so our signatures live together on the page. Donal signs as witness without any flowery language.
"It is done," he says.
The room is quiet for three seconds. Then Remy starts clapping, and it breaks the formality. Men laugh while pulling me into their circle and patting Tiernan on the back. Callen says something about the kitchen and beer.
Tiernan crosses to me and puts his hand at the small of my back.
"You amended it," he says.
"Last night. After you fell asleep. The part about no restrictions on hospital access."
The corner of his mouth lifts. "Thorough."
"I learned from watching you."
The kitchen is loud when we get there. Someone has moved the good mugs to the lower shelf in every cabinet I can see.
When I notice, Remy catches my eye and grins like he's been waiting all day for me to say something. Jamie ends up talking with a few of the guys, telling them stories about me when we were younger as they supply him with alcohol. They tell him about Tiernan defending me and talking me up and how I’ve done more than bandage wounds.
The men don't stare when Tiernan keeps his hand at my back. They adjust around us like it’s become the most natural thing to do.
That night, Tiernan reaches for the light, and I catch his wrist. "Leave it."
The first time, in his room, he undressed me and learned me and I let him run all of it because I didn't know yet that I was allowed to want it out loud. Tonight I know.
I put both hands flat on his chest and walk him backward until the mattress takes him.
The look on his face tells me plenty. He recalibrates in real time while going still.
The man who runs half of South Boston looks awestruck still because his nurse just pushed him onto a bed.
It’s the best thing I've seen in months.
"Jack," he finally says.
"My turn." I get a knee on either side of his hips. "You did the asking last time. Tonight you don't get to."
"Is that in the contract?"
"Article eleven. No talking unless I tell you to."
He almost laughs, that low surprised sound I've been collecting, and I cover his mouth with mine before it gets all the way out. I take the rest of his shirt off him slowly, because I can, and because we have the time. His pulse jumps under my mouth when I drag it down his throat. I don’t stop even when he murmurs Irish that’s warmer than whiskey.
My exploration continues over the old scars and the fresh one, along the hard line of his stomach.
His hands come up to my hips and I move them back to the sheets.
"I said my turn," I admonish.
He grips the sheets obediently. “Mo Rúnsearc.”
I take my time rather than ask what the words mean.
I learn the parts of him he never lets anyone slow down enough to learn.
His breath catches when my teeth find his collarbone.
His stomach goes tight when I work lower.
When I finally take him in hand, he exhales like it's been pulled out of him.
I stroke him slowly, watching his face, until his jaw goes slack and the control he wears like a second skin starts to come apart.
When I put my mouth on him he says my name in a voice with nothing left in it that's careful.
Both his hands fist in the sheets because I told him to keep them there and he is, barely.
"Jack." It's almost a warning.
I climb back up his body and strip off the rest of what I'm wearing, taking the time he didn't get to take, and letting him look. He memorizes with his eyes. His hands shake with the effort of staying where I put them.
"You can touch me now," I tell him.
He does, immediately, like he's been starving for it.
One hand slides up my spine and the other fills the space between my thighs.
He's good at this, infuriatingly good, finding the rhythm that makes me forget I'm supposed to be the one in charge.
I let him lead for a moment. Then I catch his wrist again and guide him where I want him.
“Please,” he breathes.
I sink down onto him in one slow motion that punches the air out of both of us.
I set the pace. Slow, then less slow, my hands flat on his chest and his heart going wild under my palms. I keep it there at the edge, watching him strain against the urge to take over, until his restraint finally gives out all at once.
His hands find my hips and grip hard. This time I let them stay, let him meet me, the two of us moving together until the bed complains and the radio static can't cover the sounds either of us is making.
We end up graceless somewhere in the middle of it, my elbow catching his ribs, both of us laughing once before it stops being funny and turns into something with teeth.
When it tips over I have his face in my hands and I'm watching him watch me, and he says my name like it's the only word he has left.
I follow him a breath later with his arms locked around me.
After, he pulls me down against him, my ear over the slam of his heart.
"Article eleven," he says, when he can talk. "I'm noting an objection."
"Noted." I press my mouth to his collarbone. "Overruled."
I feel him laugh, the real one, all the way through my body.
For the first time since I walked into this house with a contract around my neck and my brother's debt on my shoulders, I'm not bracing for the next thing. I'm just here, in the dark, with the static and his heartbeat and a year that doesn't feel like a sentence anymore.
It never did, in the end. That was the part I took the longest to learn.