“Yeah,” I laugh.
“I will,” he repeats in a serious voice, and when I find his eyes, I know he’s not joking. He will make it. For me. No one has ever promised something like that for me. Ever.
“Thank you.” My voice is a hopeful whisper, and I can’t tell which I hope for more—the greenhouse or him keeping this big promise to me.
We stay like that for some time, smiling at each other, before Jericho’s hands suddenly land on my feet, making them jerk and nearly knock him in his teeth.
“What are you doing?”
He looks at me with a look no less puzzled than I’m feeling. “Fuck if I know,” he laughs quietly. “I’m figuring it out as I go.”
With that, his fingers begin moving. Carefully at first. Almost spooked. They hesitantly dig into my sore muscles and probe like a careful scientist. This… experience is not something I’ve ever had. Dick never massaged my feet or anything else for that matter, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act. Do I lift my legs up for easier access? Do I thank him? Do I massage his feet in return?
While I’m contemplating my actions, he’s clearly having a battle of his own judging by his wrinkled forehead and drawn-together brows.
“Jericho?” I call carefully. “You don’t have to do that.”
His head whips to me. “I want to do this.”
I soften my voice even more. “You don’t look like you do.”
At that, his brows nearly knit together to form one straight line. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s just—” I lick my lips, trying to find the right words for the moment. “It’s just, you look so angry.”
“Angry?” He blinks. “Fuck no. I’m not.”
“Then what’s happening?”
His gaze drops to where he’s touching my feet.
“Jericho?”
“Your feet are so small,” he sighs, nearly making me laugh. No one has ever called my size nine feet small, but I’ll take it. “And your skin. It’s so…”
“What’s up with my skin?”
“It’s soft. And look at this.” He stretches his open palm toward me. “It’s anything but. I’m afraid I’m hurting you with these.” He shakes his hand in the air.
My attention is focused on his outstretched arm and open palm. It’s big and rough. It has calluses and scars.
I push myself into a sitting position and grab his hand. He tries pulling away, but my grip is firm. “This,” I start, leaning to his hand, “is beautiful,” I finish, placing a soft kiss in the middle of his palm.
He’s frozen in time. I don’t think he’s breathing until his head heaves with a shaky inhale. His neck jerks with a rough swallow.
Dropping his hand, I fall back onto the couch and placemy arms under my head. “Now,” I giggle, tapping my foot on his lap, “get busy.”
His face brightens with a big, genuine smile, and he digs his fingers into my flesh. Without hesitation and deep forehead lines this time.
“That’s much better,” I sigh, closing my eyes.
His quiet laughter is the music I hear before slowly drifting away.
32
Nora
I wake up to find Jericho snoozing with his head resting on the back of the couch. Soft snores come out of his slightly open mouth.
