Page 99 of Agency

“Because we need a place to hide out.”

“No,” he said, opening the refrigerator and slotting away some of the produce. He turned back and grabbed the steaks, but paused as he looked to me. When he spoke again, his voice was tinged with sadness.

“It’s becauseyouneed a place to hide out. He’s only here because of you, Ambyr. He’s never even mentioned this place to me, and only in passing to Morgan. But you got him to bring us here.”

His words weren’t like a slap in the face.

No. They were too caring and well chosen for that.

Instead, they were like placing a kind of weight, or burden, one which I’d couldn’t deny or wave off, on my shoulders. A simple, inexorable force that made my feet sink deeper into the groaning floorboards.

I simply stood there for another long moment, unsure of what to say, or how to react.

Because he was right, wasn’t he?

Jericho had spent his adult life denying this place, and he’d come back here in a heartbeat for someone he could barely stand. Or… Well… Someone he could… I didn’t even know what to say to that.

How did he really feel about me?

My stomach fluttered, and I could feel my heart beating a little faster, to the point where I felt a little feverish.

More importantly, how did I really feel about him?

Because fuckability was one thing. He still had that, in spades, despite all the shit between us. But I hadn’t really considered all aspects of Jericho’s feelings toward me until Andrew had said something, just now.

And now, even worse, this trickling dread was leaking in as I began to consider all the ramifications of what we’d planned. Of all of us going to Billings… And what we might find there.

The kitchen door came open, breaking me away from my thoughts.

“Hey,” Jericho said just as the front door opened. “That’s a lot of groceries.” He looked back and forth between the groceries and Andrew, who had continued putting them away in the fridge while I’d lapsed into silence.

“Same thing I said,” I replied, pausing with coffee mug halfway to my mouth. “Said they’re ‘growing boys’ or some shit.”

“More like ever-widening assholes,” Jericho said as, behind me, Morgan came in with more groceries.

“Well, ‘ever-widening assholes’, or not,” Andrew said as Morgan set his bags on the counter, “we still need to be fed. And we need to be fed well. We’re thoroughbreds, man.”

“And thoroughbreds eat oats,” I replied into my coffee mug.

“What was that?” Andrew asked with snappish glee, his eyes dancing towards mine.

“Nothing,” I said, hiding my smile. “Nothing at all.”

“Thought so.”

Grumbling, Jericho limped his way into the living room. He put the load of firewood down and, grunting again, began to pack the firewood into the holder.

“Think we really need that much?” Morgan asked, following after him, but holding open the swinging kitchen door.

“It’s going to get colder than you think,” Jericho replied. “Much colder. Not sure we’ll see freezing temperatures, but this place isn’t insulated like a modern house.”

“Well, guess it’s a good thing we’ll be running the oven and stove so much tonight,” Andrew said, loud enough for us all to hear.

“Yeah?” Jericho called back.

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, bringing the nearly empty mug to my lips.