Page 39 of When Fences Fall
“You’re Jerome or something, right?” Dick asks with asmile in his voice. That evil smile I begin hating more and more with every passing second. He’s never been violent toward me, but I’ve just seen another side of him I didn’t even know existed.
Ignoring his nonchalance, Jericho fixes his gaze on the man in front of him, speaking with a tone of authority that makes Dick seem almost inconsequential. “You touch her without her permission again?—”
The words hardly leave his mouth when Dick interrupts, dripping in sarcasm. “And what? What will you do?” His voice rises, full of arrogant challenge, as if daring Jericho to act. He’s fishing for a reaction, and everyone here knows it.
I feel the hardness of Jericho’s body as his back, already taut and coiled like a spring, tenses further. An instant tension fills the air, crackling like a wire pulled too tight. With my nerves stretched thin, I do the only thing I can think of: I place my hand gently between his shoulder blades. I don’t know why I do it, but it feels like the right thing. It’s almost instinctual, an act of desperation to keep him from snapping. My fingers tremble against the fabric of his shirt, betraying the anxiety I don’t want either of them to see.
Jericho’s voice dips even lower, a dark rumble that promises a storm. “Try yourself,” he warns, each word a threat, “and find out.”
I’ve always hated how easily men like Dick resort to violence when they can’t use their words to win. But in this moment, my hatred takes a back seat to a strange, unexpected relief. I’m thankful that I have Jericho standing between me and the worst of whatever this might be. He’s like a shield, preparing to absorb the danger so I won’t have to. It seems that having the scarier beast on your side is a good way to survive another day.
I can barely breathe as I wait for Dick to lash out, to push back harder, to spew some sort of crude remark that will set everything off. But instead, he lets out a dismissive laugh thatcuts through the tension like a knife. “Didn’t peg you for a guy who likes leftovers,” he says, provoking Jericho further.
It’s clear Dick finds all this amusing. His expression is maddeningly smug, as if he’s already won some invisible game. I can see the way his eyes flick over to me, as though he’s the only one in on a secret, and I know he’s doing it to get under Jericho’s skin. I feel Jericho shift, his stance changing as if he’s preparing to strike. It’s exactly the reaction Dick is trying to bait out of him, to get him to make the first move so he can paint himself as the victim.
Terrified of where this is heading, I do the only thing I can. I push past my own fear and step around Jericho’s massive frame to get between them, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m close enough to see every flicker of arrogance in Dick’s eyes, and I hope the determination in mine will be enough to force him to back down. If I can just make this about me, not about some primal showdown between two stubborn men, maybe I can stop them before it gets any worse.
“Richard.” My voice is breathless, but I hope it’s strong enough that they don’t hear the shakiness beneath it. “You really need to go.”
It’s a gamble, but it’s the only play I have. I wait for Dick to push back or throw some sort of crude remark, but he lets out a laugh. “You two aren’t worth my time.” His gaze moves toward me. “Especially you,” he nearly spits out.
Jericho’s body moves forward, carefully pushing me aside on the way. My arm acts faster than my brain and shoots out, wrapping itself around his torso and stopping him. His stomach is hard under my touch. His whole body is. Taut like a guitar string ready to snap and damage any hand that gets in its way.
But a miracle happens, and Jericho—or his body—listens. Small me manages to stop the unstoppable force of Jericho, and I have zero doubts that he wouldn’t even feel my touch if he didn’t want to. I also know that Dick, with all his bravadoand gym mass, has nothing on Jericho. Something about this man screamsprimalto me, in all kinds of ways.
“Get the fuck away from here,Dick.” His name on Jericho’s lips sounds like it’s disgraceful to even say out loud, and I couldn’t agree more.
Peeking from behind Jericho’s back, I find Dick watching the wall of a man I’m currently hiding behind like he’s his new worst enemy. That’s bad. I don’t like Jericho much, but I wouldn’t wish an enemy like my ex on him.
Don’t you though? Like him very much?
Shaking my head to myself, I try pulling Jericho back again, reminding him about lil’ old me still holding him hostage. It’s very much fruitless—his body is tense until Dick retreats with a loud, mocking laugh. Only then does my neighbor turn to me.
“Are you okay?” His voice is rough. Angry. Just like his demeanor. His pupils are dilated, nostrils flared. But even with all this anger, I have zero fear around him. Including from other people. He chased away my paralyzing fear in Dick’s presence the moment his voice reached my ears.
“I am. Thank you for coming.” Concentrating on the present, I ask him, “Where did you come from anyway?”
His assessing gaze scans my face, lingering on my eyes for a few seconds longer before he speaks. “I was at the lumberyard.” He throws his thumb behind him. “I have a big project coming up not far from here, and I prefer to shop local.”
I nod, agreeing with him. “You talked with Hunter?”
“Yeah.” His face tenses all of a sudden. “Why?”
“Nothing.” I shrug one shoulder. “He’s usually not a very talkative type.”
A faint smile grazes Jericho’s lips. “And I wondered why we got along so fast.”
Squinting my eyes at him, I smile. “I bet you did.”
I agree with him though—I like Hunter too. He’s a local Grinch of sorts, a misunderstood man who prefers hiding onhis mountain behind giant logs he likes to rip with his bare hands. I swear I saw him do it once when I was younger and he was still out and about around town. But things change for a lot of us, including the poor recluse Hunter.
Feeling Jericho’s concerned eyes on me, I realize I haven’t thought about what just happened in a minute, being distracted by small talk and the way his worried, gray eyes stare into my face like they’re trying to read it.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely, placing my hand on his arm. Somehow, it feels important to do right now.
He grunts something incomprehensible and nods at my car. “You can drive, and I’ll follow you.”
“You don’t have to. You know, if you have something to do.” A sudden wave of shame washes over me for what just happened, like it was all my fault, and for the time he’s wasting standing here with me. “I can get there by myself. No big deal,” I say, looking everywhere but at him.
