It was raining hard, the kind of rain that made the world smell like wet earth and old promises. I didn't want to get out of bed, wrapped tight in my warm, heavy blanket, my body sore from the ceremony and the laughter and the dancing.
Adele's wedding had been something else, a regal, shining, loud affair, and somehow, despite everything, I'd managed to keep it smooth. I should have felt proud, but all I wanted now was to sleep through winter, to forget how quiet it felt once everyone was gone.
DING DONG.
I flinched, frowning, letting the rain beat on the windows. Who the hell was here this early? Maxen was off somewhere playing "perfect spouse." My siblings were still at Mom's ancestral resort, and so were Adele's in-laws.
DING DONG.
I sighed, pulling my hair into a messy bun, strands falling against my face, grabbing a loose T-shirt bodysuit and soft pantaloons that still smelled like home. I caught my reflection, tired eyes, hollow under the cheeks, but alive.
I opened the door, and there he was.
Jacob.
We hadn't spoken much, never enough to clear the air. He was always there, lingering at the edges, but we kept swallowing what needed to be said, pretending to move on.
I'd tried to move on too, but every night, I would dream of him, and it wasn't fair. His laughter, his anger, his touch, the way he used to pull me in when the world was too loud, how he used to look at me as if I was the only person left.
And I hated it, but I missed it.
Last night, I'd caught him watching me when I walked Adele down the aisle, the way my mother kept throwing little barbed words in my direction, reminding me I was never enough. I had smiled, let it roll off, but he saw it. The truth was, I'd been hurting for 24 years.
His fault. My fault. Our fault.
"Jake?" My voice was hoarse, as if I hadn't used it in weeks.
"Norah... Hi." His eyes were soft, his hair wet, rain dripping down the curve of his jaw. He looked younger like this, messy and uncertain.
"Hi. Come in, you're soaked." I stepped aside.
He stood in the hallway, dripping onto the floor, saying nothing, staring at me like he was trying to memorize the moment.
"Come on," I said, leading him to the guest room. He followed, quiet, the way he always did when he was thinking too much.
"You can wash up. I'll dry your clothes." I gestured to the bathroom.
He shook his head, wet hair sticking to his forehead. "Norah, I've got nothing to wear."
I snorted, rolling my eyes, "I'll bring you some clothes. Duh."
He gave me a look, grateful, but didn't say it. That was the thing about Jacob, he never said it, but I always knew.
When I came back, he was standing there, freshly showered, a towel low on his hips, water still glistening on his shoulders. I froze, eyes trailing over the body I had once memorized with my lips and hands, the one I swore I'd never let myself crave again.
"Hey, Jake, I... I brought you clothes." I sounded ridiculous.
"Thanks, Norah. You're too kind." He smiled that smile, the one that used to undo me.
"Don't mention it." I shoved the clothes into his hands, turning away before I embarrassed myself further. "I'll wait downstairs."
I fled.
---
I was in the kitchen, pouring coffee, the rain still tapping on the windows, grounding me. I was lost in the scent, the warmth, in the way it felt like home, when I felt him behind me before I heard him.
"Hey." His voice was close, too close, making me jump.
"Jesus, Jake, can you make a sound when you walk?"
He chuckled softly, "Maybe you're just too busy daydreaming."
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn't see the way my lips curled at the corners. I handed him the coffee, the one I made the way he liked, even though I told myself I didn't care what he liked anymore.
"Thanks."
He took the counter chair, sitting across from me. We both knew the air was heavy, but neither of us wanted to break it.
"So, Jake, Jacob, President, whatever you're calling yourself these days, what brings you here?" My voice was calm, steady, the way I had trained it to be.
He smiled at my humour, swallowed the hot drink on his mug, his fingers tightening around the mug. "I wanted to tell you yesterday, but... I'm sorry."
I frowned, confused. "Why are you apologizing? Is something wrong?"
He shook his head, eyes flickering with something like shame. "I haven't been a good father. You... you made Adele happy, Norah. She's happy because of you."
"Jake, stop. You've been there for her since you found out she's yours. Don't do this." I smiled, small, empty. He looked away, but not before I saw the color in his cheeks, the way he looked almost... shy.
"No, that's not all." He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "I... I want to be with you."
My breath caught, heat rushing to my face. "What?"
"I mean," he stammered, "I know yesterday must have been hard for you, with your mother, with everything. I just... wanted to be here."
I looked down, biting my lip, the words stuck in my throat. "Thank you."
We started talking about stupid things, random things, Adele's speech, the cake, the flowers that were too heavy, the way the rain felt like a blessing.
For a moment, I let myself feel it, the easy laughter, the way he teased me about the way I rolled my eyes. I let myself remember how it used to be before everything fell apart.
He started showing off his "cooking skills" by making a cheese toast in my kitchen, and it was so ridiculous, but when I bit into it too early, burning my tongue, it was like stepping back into the past.
"Do you ever learn, Norah?" he teased, taking the sandwich away, but we were both laughing, that real, belly-deep laugh I hadn't felt in so long.
"What do you want me to do, blow on it?" His voice was playful, panicked, his eyes warm.
I laughed so hard, tears pricked my eyes.
He handed me a glass of water, and as I gulped it down, he moved to clean the counter, knocking over a bottle of oil that spilled onto the floor.
"It's fine, Jake. I've got it."
"No, you sit. I'll clean it."
"You're slow, Jake, I can—" I stood too fast, stepping on the slippery floor, my foot flying out from under me.
I braced for the hit, but I didn't fall.
His arms caught me, strong, steady, pulling me against him. My hands landed on his chest, my face inches from his, his rain-warmed scent surrounding me.
"Whoa, easy. You okay?" His voice was low, close.
"Yeah." My voice was a whisper.
He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me across the kitchen, setting me on the counter. His necklace caught in my hair, the half-heart I had given him years ago, the one I thought he'd thrown away.
"You still have it," I whispered.
His eyes met mine, and he nodded, gently untangling the chain from my curls, his fingers brushing against my neck, leaving goosebumps.
"There." He smiled softly, but it was the kind of smile that hurt.
Our eyes locked, too long, too close, my breath catching as he leaned in. I could see the way his gaze flickered to my lips.
"I should check your clothes, they're probably dry." I tried to slide off the counter.
"Don't." His voice was a quiet plea as his hands circled my waist, holding me there.
"Norah, I... I—"
He kissed me.
It was rough, desperate, nothing like I remembered, but exactly like I needed. His lips were warm, taking, tasting, his hands pulling me closer, his tongue sliding against mine, and I hated how quickly I kissed him back, how my body betrayed me.
My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling him, the hard lines of him under my fingers. His hands roamed, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him, and when he pinned my hands against the cabinets, kissing me like he was drowning, I kissed him back because I didn't know how to stop.
For a moment, it was just us, the rain, the heat, the taste of him, the way he groaned when I bit his lip, the way my body remembered every piece of him.
But then, Neila.
The image of him with her, their bodies tangled, the betrayal, the way he threw me out of the house while she lay in our bed, smiling.
I broke.
Tears slid down my cheeks as I shoved him back, breathing hard, my lips swollen, my heart cracking open.
"I'm sorry. I can't do this. We shouldn't."
He reached for me, wiping my tears with trembling hands. "Norah—"
I turned my face away. "Don't."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." His voice cracked, his eyes on the floor. "You're right. We shouldn't."