Page 123 of Yours to Lose
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
JORDAN
Bouncing on my toes, a little wired from too much caffeine and no sleep at all, I raise my hand to knock on Jo’s door but hesitate before my hand strikes the wood. I glance around, suddenly acutely aware that it’s not even six in the morning, and it’s still dark out.
From the time Cooper said the wordsroad triplast night, my mind has had one single track.
Get to Jo.
Tell her you love her and can’t live without her.
Beg her to come to Boston.
Grovel if necessary.
I didn’t stop to think much about the details, which is why I’ve been driving for the last nine hours straight and am currently about to wake her up when she is extremely not a morning person. I wonder briefly if I should wait until a more humane hour, but my overwhelming need to get my arms around my girl as soon as humanly possible makes the decision for me.
I knock.
And I wait.
When I don’t hear any movement from inside, I knock again, and then again, suddenly unreasonably angry at this piece of wood separating me from Jo.
I knock again.
“Okay, Jesus, fuck, I’m coming. Ouch! Shit!”
At the sound of Jo’s irritated voice, my smile spreads. Everything inside of me lights right up, and my hands literally twitch with the need to touch her, the words I’ve been dying to say to her already bubbling up in my throat, ready to be set free.
“What?” she demands, yanking open the door. She freezes, blinking at me. “Oh, holy fuck,” she mumbles, immediately slamming the door in my face.
I snicker at the thud I assume is her leaning heavily against the door and then let out a full blown laugh at her muttered, “Of course he looks amazing at the ass crack of dawn.”
I knock again. “Hey, Hurricane?”
“Yeah?” comes her muffled voice.
“You want to maybe open the door? I’ve been driving for a pretty long time, and I really want to see your face.”
I hear her sigh heavily, and then the door opens slowly.
I’ve never really understood the expressionmy heart leaped, but then Jo is standing in front of me in sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt, wool socks on her feet—one pulled up over her calf and the other bunched around her ankle. Her eyes are heavy with sleep, and her hair is in a messy ponytail with pieces falling loose around her face. She has a fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and I grin even harder when I see it’s the one with tornados all over it I sent her in my movie night package a couple weeks ago.
Every single thought empties from my head because she’s here and she’s perfect and she’s so completely mine. The love that rushes through me is strong and true, and in this moment, I can see my entire life stretching before me and every single part of it looks like Jo.
Jo tilts her head to the side and studies me. “Are you real? Because I drank, like, all the margaritas last night, and it’s early enough in the morning that I may still be a little drunk, so there’s a non-zero chance that you standing at my door right now is some kind of tequila-induced fever dream.”
Not able to wipe the grin off my face and even less able to keep my hands off her for one more second, I take half a step forward and wrap my arms around her, holding tight. Jo lets out a surprised gasp but recovers quickly. She winds her arms around my neck and hops up, wrapping her legs around my waist. I anchor her to me with one arm tight around her waist and push my other hand into her hair, cradling her head against me.
“It may be a fever dream, but I assure you I am completely real. I fucking missed you, Jo Jo,” I whisper in her ear. “Nothing felt right without my arms around you.”
“A month is too damn long,” she mumbles, burying her face in my neck. I press a kiss to the side of her head and breathe in her familiar scent, filling up all the parts of me that have been empty for the time we’ve been apart. “I missed you too, J. More than is probably reasonable. What are you doing here anyway? Not that I’m complaining because you’re here, and you being here is better than you being not here, but is everything okay?”
I tip my head back just enough to see her face and consider that maybe I should put her down for this and we should have a conversation like normal adults, but fuck that. I don’t want to let her go, and now is the best time because it’s now.
I tighten my arm around her waist and with my other hand, I brush the loose hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear and skimming my fingers over her jaw, watching her still sleepy eyes go soft the way I love.
“Everything is perfect. Better than perfect because I get to be here with you. I love you, Jo. I love you so fucking much. I love your smiles and your sunshine and how you turn everything we do into an adventure. I love your pink Converse, your love of dinosaurs, and that you know things like when National Lost Sock Memorial Day is and sent me a gift card to buy crazy socks when I hadn’t done anything fun in years. I love that you love disaster movies even though they make you yell at the TV and that you always have Fireballs in your pocket. I love that you need to have two different breakfasts because you don’t decision well and that you would rather do anything in the world except for sleep. I love that you have themed pajamas and that you got so excited that we take our coffee the same way and how you were so right about the free mugging thing that I walk around Boston with an open mug every morning and think of you. Everything makes me think of you. I love that you are my very best friend in the whole world, and all I want to do every day is kiss you and hold you and tell you how you are my favorite person on earth. And most of all, I love how you light up my whole world and make me feel like I can do anything and be anything because you’re right there with me.”
