Page 133 of When Fences Fall
“Good idea, gorgeous. We don’t want to traumatize Junie, do we?”
“Junie is here?” Jericho cries out, grabbing another blanket from the couch and finally covering himself up.
“Yes.” The brother throws his thumb behind his back. “She’s cooing with some bird at the next house.”
The bird must be our rooster, and for the first time I’m grateful for his appearance this early in the morning.
“I’m gonna go,” I mumble as I escape to the bedroom, still flushed head to toe under the enormous blanket I’m barely able to carry around. Through the wall, I hear Jericho grumble something about “boundaries” and “keys” and “never, ever opening my goddamn door again.”
He can be growly and scary all he wants, but I know him by now. Beneath all this anger is something else—protectiveness. Possessiveness. A man who just realized what it means to share the world with someone—and how terrifying it is to think someone else might see her the way he does.
And I can’t lie—I love it.
44
Jericho
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 thewarmth 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 stillwatching.
With a sigh, I flip him off and go back to the hinge. If he considers a missing windowa 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.
