“Do you think something’s going on between Bodie and my dad?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the suds as I start scrubbing.
Isaac is quiet for a beat, contemplating. He dries the plate I hand him and sets it carefully in the rack.
“Your father and I are still on rocky ground as it is,” he finally says. “So I’m staying out of it.”
I let out a short, breathy laugh and nod, even though that does nothing to untangle this weird feeling twisting around in my gut.
A comfortable silence settles between us as we stand shoulder-to-shoulder while I wash the dishes and he dries them. I try to distract myself from whatever the fuck I just witnessed by glancing over at my cookbook that sits on the counter like it’s always belonged here. Just like the few nutcrackers that Isaac let me put on top of the cabinets. It all makes me smile.
After we finish with the dishes, Isaac dries his hands on a towel, then turns toward me with that look that always makes my heart flutter—equal parts fondness and something a little darker and deeper.
“I have one more gift if you’re up for it?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, attempting to hide a grin as I lean my back against the kitchen island. “I guess as long as it doesn’t make me have another Feelings Fiasco. Still kind of drained from the last one.”
“I promise nothing,” he says with a grin of his own. On his way out of the kitchen, he stops to place a kiss on my cheek. “Be right back.”
He disappears into the hallway and returns a moment later with a small, square black box. It’s simple, no bow, no label. Hehands it to me with that faint air of uncertainty I’ve come to recognize.
My fingers brush his as I take it from him, his warmth gliding across my skin. I lift the lid with a soft snick and peer inside.
I think my heart literally skips a beat.
It’s a lock.
A beautiful, anodized green lock. It’s sleek and minimal and discreet, easily mistakable for a round charm.
“I had it custom made.”
My throat tightens. “Isaac…”
His eyes meet mine, a little more steady and sure than a moment ago. “We don’t have to put it on tonight. Or tomorrow. It’s for whenever you’re ready and if it’s something you still want. Even if you don’t want to wear it, it’s yours. Because you need to know you’re mine in every way that matters, Jackson. If I could physically tie you to me, I would. But since I can’t, I’ll take what this represents if you’ll have it.”
I would’ve stopped him a long time ago, before he could even get through telling me we don’t have to put it on. But I let him speak just so I could listen, so I could let his voice wrap around me like a separate pulse.
“Areyousure?”
His brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I look down at the lock again, at the reflection of the kitchen lights shimmering across its surface. I swallow and breathe deep.
“We haven’t had sex in three weeks, and…”
Isaac lifts his hand, his thumb brushing over my jaw before he places it beneath my chin to lift my face to his. His expression is pained, and I feel bad for putting it there.
“You think that’s all I want from you?”
“No. But…I expect it’s part of it.”
He made it clear that I’d have to be the one to let him know when I was ready to try because he refused to push. He knows I’ve never had a hard time asking for what I want, but I hate that I haven’t been able to.
It’s certainly not that I haven’twantedto.
Last week, I asked him if I could have permission to come while I was alone so I could test things out for myself. He told me all our usual rules don’t apply untilI’mready to put them back in place.
So I made myself come in the shower that night and proved to myself that thethoughtof Isaac touching me still does it for me.
And he’s touched me plenty over the past few weeks. Holding me while we fall asleep. Lacing his fingers with mine while we watch movies. Touching my face, kissing me, little pokes and nudges while we cook.
