I glide a hand over her hair and down her back, pulling her back into me for a slow kiss. “Let me take care of you, Hurricane. I want to. No. I need to. You’re mine. Let me show you. Please.”
My voice is a plea.Let me show you because I can’t tell you. Not yet.
Somehow, Jo understands because her eyes soften, and she nods, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my chest, right over my heart. Overcome, I close my eyes for a second to collect myself before I squeeze shampoo into my hand and wash her hair, following it up with conditioner before I wash every inch of her body. I take care of my own shower, then shut off the water, wrapping Jo in a fluffy towel and grabbing one for myself.
Once we’re clean and dry, we slip under the covers of my bed, and I pull her close to me, skin against skin, holding her tight, hoping I never have to let her go.
* * *
“You know, you really should sleep in on your birthday,” I say, as I walk down the stairs in the morning to a silent house, other than my mom doing her thing in the kitchen.
My mom spins around and glares at me. “Jesus Christ, Jordan. Just give an old lady a heart attack, why don’t you?”
I grin and trot down the last couple of stairs to wrap my arms around her. “Happy birthday, Ma. I’m really happy to be home.”
“Shit,” my mom mutters, wrapping her arms tighter around my waist and sniffling. “I wasn’t going to cry today.”
I snicker into her hair. “That sounds unlikely.”
She lets go of me and steps back. “I’m just so damn glad you’re here I’m not even going to get mad at you for that.” She lays a hand on my cheek, studying me. “You look good, my baby. Happy.”
I nod, thinking of Jo sleeping upstairs, feeling my mouth spread into a smile. “I am. Happier than I’ve been in a long, long time.”
My mom nods. “Come and tell me about it.”
Five minutes later, we have coffee and are sitting side-by-side at the kitchen island because, in a long-standing Wyles family tradition, my dad set the table for mom’s birthday breakfast last night and will be getting up soon to make all the food, after which we’ll do presents. My mom demands massive fanfare for her birthday, and the five of us have always made it our mission to deliver.
I take a sip of coffee, smiling down at the mug, thinking that I’ll ask Jo to take a walk with me before breakfast so I can show her the neighborhood, and we’ll bring the mugs because that’s our thing now. I like having things with her.
“That’s a good kind of smile, Jord,” my mom says, taking a sip from her own mug. “Does it have anything to do with the pink high-top-wearing bundle of energy sleeping upstairs?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You obviously know it does.”
She smiles, laying a hand over mine. “Of course I do. I know everything. I like her so much, baby. I like her for you, and I also just really, really like her. So does your dad. So do your brothers. She fits, Jordan.”
I nod, my eyes glued to my coffee as if it contains the secrets of the universe. “I didn’t know I could feel this way again,” I say quietly. “I didn’t think it was in the cards for me. I thought I was the luckiest fucking guy in the world when I met Allie, because who gets to feel that much love for another person, you know? And when she died, I thought that part of my life was over. Except I think…” I break off, swallowing roughly. “I thought maybe I had found it again. And then when we got here yesterday, seeing how quickly and easily Jo fit in with all of us? Now I know I did.”
When I look up, my mom’s eyes are steady on me, her hand squeezing mine. “So why do you look so conflicted, honey?”
I shrug, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. “Because it scares the shit out of me. To feel like this again, knowing how it got taken away the first time? I’m not sure I could survive it again, Mom.”
My mom’s eyes turn fierce. “Jordan, you have no idea how many times over the last two years I’ve wished I could take your pain and carry it myself. What you went through? It’s the worst thing that can happen to anyone, and we’ve all had to watch from the sidelines as you fought your way through your grief and rebuilt your life.”
I open my mouth, but my mom knows what I’m going to say before I say it and holds up a hand to stop me. “Don’t you dare apologize again for grieving in the way that felt right to you. Those were your decisions to make, and your brothers, your dad, and I all understand. We’ve been waiting with open arms for when you were ready to walk back into them. And to see you ready, coming home with happiness and love all over your face? That’s all I want for you. You deserve happiness, Jordan. I want you to be so, so happy and to have all the love in the world. I know it’s scary, baby. Of course it is. But don’t run from it because you’re scared. Run to it and wrap your arms around it. And let Jo wrap her arms around you. Something tells me she’s good at it. And not just in the fun way.”
“Holy fuck, Mom,” I mutter.
She beams at me. “What? I just happened to be thirsty last night and was wandering past your room on my way to the kitchen. It’s not my fault you were taking a very loud, very long shower.”
I lay my forehead on the cool countertop, praying for a swift and sudden death. I think two years away from home have made me forget what my mom is really like.
“Okay,” I say, picking my head up. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say any of that because it’s weird and creepy, and please never do it again.”
“Fat chance of that,” Mom mumbles into her coffee, smirking at me.
I smile despite myself because I fucking missed it here. It’s really good to be home. “Jo brought me back to life,” I say simply. “She pulled me out of the in-between I was living in and made me think about what I want the rest of my life to look like.”
My mom leans back on her bar stool, coffee mug in hand. “And what’s that?”
