“What are you talking about?”
His father let out a low chuckle. “You should see your face right now. You’re going to marry her. I know, because that’s the look I had on my face when I first fell in love with your mother. Now we just have to find someone for Alex. You know, my friend Costa . . .”
As Nick listened to his father, he found himself picturing Jules in a gorgeous white dress, walking down an aisle strewn with rose petals. A diamond on her finger and a smile on her face.
Yes. The vision didn’t scare him. No, it felt like home. Like a truth. Like a prize.
After a few more minutes, his father started to get tired and he fell back asleep just as Alex and his mom returned. As his father slept, Nick spent some time catching up with his family. In soft voices, they discussed the upcoming recovery, the restaurant, Nick’s training, Alex’s job. After a while, Alex gave them both a hug and then headed out to go check on things at the restaurant, and his mom settled into a chair.
“Why don’t you go home, Nico? Eat, shower, rest. Get settled in.” She paused. “Alex mentioned you brought your girlfriend.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, Jules.”
She frowned, but then nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you at home later.”
Nick couldn’t help but wonder what Alex had said to their mom, but now wasn’t the time to dig into all of that.
He found Jules in the waiting room and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you.”
She slipped her arms around him, holding him tight. “I didn’t do anything. How is he?”
“He’ll be okay. They’ll keep him for a few days, and then he can go home.” He took a long, deep breath. “He’ll be okay,” he repeated, savoring the words and the relief that came with them. “Let’s go home. It’s been a long day.” She nodded and followed him back to the parking garage and the car they’d rented.
It took nearly half an hour to navigate through the last of the rush-hour traffic from the medical center to the house in Oak Park he’d grown up in. As he pulled into the driveway, he realized he hadn’t brought a girl home since high school. Never as an adult. Jules was the first. That felt . . . really right. Even if the circumstances were far from ideal.
As he cut the ignition he studied the house, trying to see it through Jules’ eyes. The white and beige exterior, the screened-in front porch. The little garden in front, the shrubs lining the driveway. The four-bedroom house was about a hundred years old, but his parents had taken meticulous care of it, updating and renovating over the years.
“This is where you grew up?” she asked in the quiet of the car.
“Yep. I was a baby and my mom was pregnant with Alex when they bought this house.” He pushed open the door and then grabbed their bags from the trunk before leading her inside. They made their way through the living room with its worn hardwood floors and grated fireplace, the kitchen with the new appliances and same old Oriental rug under the table and chairs, and up the creaky oak staircase.
The stairway’s wall was crammed with framed family photographs, everyone from his parents’ grandparents to more recent photos of Nick and Alex. Nick found himself searching out the ones of his dad. His parents’ wedding photo. His dad smiling proudly as he stood by the front door of their restaurant, Demeter’s, a preschool-aged Nick and Alex hanging on to his legs. A more recent one of his parents together in front of a Christmas tree. His father as a young boy in Greece, smiling as he held up a fish he’d caught. Something burned in Nick’s chest as he imagined only having photographs and memories left.
Jules had paused on the stairs too, her hand still in his, studying the photos silently with a small, wistful smile on her face.
She pointed at Nick’s first-grade photo. “Cute kid.” He’d had a mop of dark hair and was wearing a Ninja Turtles T-shirt. His two front teeth were missing.
“Donatello always was my favorite.” A weight settled over his chest as he remembered the way his dad had called them the “young karate turtles.”
“Mmm. I was more of a Michelangelo girl myself.”
Nick smiled halfheartedly, appreciating her effort but not in the mood to joke. He sighed heavily and led her the rest of the way upstairs and down the hallway to the last door on the left. He pushed it open, finding the room unchanged from the last time he’d been home. Blue walls, a double bed in the center. This had always been his room, but he’d taken all of his stuff with him long ago. Now it served as a guest room, furnished only with the bed, nightstands, and a small chest.
They dropped their bags by the door and Nick sat down on the bed, a bone-deep weariness overtaking him. With his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands. The mattress dipped as Jules sat beside him and rubbed a soothing circle on his back. “I’m sorry, Nick. I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now.”
He took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of her hand on his back. “He’s always been there for me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “No matter what. Teaching me how to ride a bike. Helping me with homework. Showing me how to be a man in all the best ways. How to work hard, and love big, and enjoy life.” He glanced up at her. “He came to my very first fight, in this little arena here in Chicago. I could hear him screaming, cheering me on. He always supported my fighting career. Wanted me to chase my dreams.”
Sadness clouded Jules’s eyes, and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him in a sideways hug. “He’s going to be okay, Nick.”
“But what if he’s not?” His voice broke on the last word, and he cleared his throat. “He’s my role model, and I still need him.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I can’t lose him. There’s still so much to come. He needs to be here for it all. I need him here.”
Jules hugged him tighter. “The doctors said he’ll recover from this. He’ll be okay, Nick. You’re not going to lose him.” She kissed his forehead, her lips warm and soft against his skin. For several moments, neither of them spoke. He just let Jules hold him, absorbing the comfort of her touch.
He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers. “It means so much to me that you’re here, baby.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his thumb linger on her cheekbone. “You mean so much to me.” Wanting to feel something besides the worry and fear, he tipped his head forward, claiming her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. “I need you,” he whispered against her lips, and she moaned softly.
She skated the tips of her fingers up under his T-shirt, tracing his abs. “I’m yours, Nick.”
Her words ignited something in him, and he pulled his shirt off. Falling back onto the bed, he pulled her down with him. She straddled his hips, smoothing her hands up his chest, her palms rasping over his nipples. Holding his eyes, she pulled her blouse off over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her blond hair fanned out around her shoulders, and in that moment she looked so beautiful, so impossibly gorgeous, that Nick could’ve sworn his heart stopped.
His Jules.
With everything his father had said earlier—about marriage, and babies, and Jules—rushing through his mind, he pulled her down against him. “Come here,” he growled, bringing her mouth to his. Her tongue slid against his and he closed his eyes, basking in and savoring the comfort of her touch. The sweetness of her mouth.
He stroked his other hand up her back, popping the clasp of her bra open. He pushed it down her shoulders and her breasts spilled free, soft and warm against his chest. Her heart aligned with his, and it was as though he could feel his fear giving way to hope. He didn’t know how she did that just by being here with him, by touching him and loving him, but she did.
Her hands began working on the fly of his jeans, and he kissed her deeper, exploring her mouth with slow sweeps of his tongue. No urgency, not like there often was with them. This was peace. This was comfort.
This was love. He’d fought so hard against it, not wanting to admit it, but he loved
her. Loved every single damn thing about her, even the broken parts. Maybe even especially the broken parts, because they needed the most healing. The most care.
Would she run if he told her? He wanted so badly to believe that she wouldn’t. That things had changed between them.
But he kept his mouth shut.
She lifted her hips off of him enough to slide his pants and boxers off, then stripped her own pants and underwear off before climbing back on top of him. His hands went to her ass and she rocked against him as she fell forward, her hair a blond curtain as she smiled down at him.
“I’ve got you,” she said, and then kissed a trail down his neck and across his collarbone.
Desire flowed over him and he held her tighter, pulling her back for another kiss.
He slid a hand lower and easily slid two fingers into her. He groaned at how ready she was, and she let out a little shudder, nipping at his lips as they kissed. She wove her fingers into his hair, and each slide of her tongue against his came quicker, the energy of their connection spreading between them.
He slipped his fingers out of her and fisted his cock. She lifted her hips and then sank down onto him, taking him deep.
“Fuck,” he gasped, his grip firm on her hips. “You feel so goddamn good.”
She kissed him, slow and sweet as she rocked her hips. “So do you, Nick. So perfect.”
He let out a soft laugh. “Because we’re perfect, sweetheart.”
She stilled and met his eyes, tracing the tips of her fingers over his mouth. “You make me believe that.”
In that moment he wanted to tell her he loved her, but he couldn’t seem to connect his brain with his mouth.
With his palms spanning her back, he pulled her tight against him, flexing his hips and pumping up into her. She met him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, until a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin. His orgasm barreled down on him, fast and intense. She moaned above him, riding him hard now, clenching around him.
“God, Nick!” She ground the words out, and he felt her pussy flutter, pushing him over the edge. With a grunt, he pushed up into her as far as he could and came.
She collapsed against his chest, breathing hard. He could feel her heart pounding against him, and he stroked a hand over her head, smoothing her hair. And as he held her, still inside her, he knew that somehow everything was going to be all right.
18
When Jules walked downstairs the next morning, she was overwhelmed with the delicious smell of fresh baked bread and coffee. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she and Nick hadn’t eaten much the night before. They’d scrounged around the fridge for some leftover spanakopita and roasted chicken, but neither of them had felt much like eating. Nick had been too worried about his dad while she’d been too worried about Nick.
He’d gone back to the hospital after dinner to visit with his dad again and bring his mom home, but Jules had stayed back getting caught up on email. She’d told her dad that she wasn’t at work because she wasn’t feeling well, but she wasn’t sure how long that excuse would hold out before someone got suspicious. Once finished with her emails, she’d gone to bed early, trying her best not to intrude on their family time.
“Mom, it’s only the three of us. This is too much.” Jules heard Nick’s voice coming from the kitchen before she made it down the stairs. He’d gone down ahead of her a few minutes ago.
“Four. I told Alex to stop by with galatopita from the restaurant.” Nick must’ve pulled a face or something because his mom said, “What? I don’t know what your girl likes. I want her to be happy here.”
Nick chuckled, and as Jules rounded the corner she saw him put his arm around his mom’s shoulders and pull her into a hug. He kissed the top of her head and said, “I appreciate that, but you’re tired and upset. We don’t expect you to take care of us while we’re here.”
They were standing in front of the sink, and his mom turned off the water and placed her hand on his chest. “Taking care of you makes me feel better, Nico. Let me do this, huh?”
He sighed. “Okay, Mom.”
They stood like that for a little longer, his arms around her, her hand gently patting his chest, both of them taking comfort in the other. “It’ll be okay,” his mother whispered.
Jules was struck by the poignancy of the moment. Nick was so big and strong compared to his mother, but he needed her to tell him everything would be fine. And his mother apparently took some comfort in taking care of her family. The scene made Jules think back to memories of her own mother. Sure, there’d been happy times, but they’d been few and far between. The last time Jules had spoken to her, Jules had casually mentioned that she’d met someone. Her mother’s advice had been, “Run, before he turns on you.” It had left Jules feeling isolated and wondering why she’d even bothered to share that information in the first place. Her mom’s reaction was a far cry from the show of support she was seeing in front of her right now. Her chest ached with a strange sort of longing she didn’t know how to process.
It struck her then that she was intruding on a very private moment, and she started to back out of the kitchen but realized she’d walked in too far to slip out unnoticed. “Good morning,” she said, her voice a bit too cheerful. She tried again in a more normal tone. “Something smells amazing.”
Nick smiled at her. His mom pulled away and dabbed at the corner of her eye before turning to offer Jules a smile. “Good morning. Did you sleep well? Nico, pour her some coffee, will you?” Jules had met Nick’s mom the night before when Nick had brought her home from the hospital, but the conversation had been brief after the long day everyone had had. Truth be told, she was looking forward to getting to know his family.
Jules nodded. “I did.” She hadn’t. Nick had climbed into bed late, and she’d held him until he’d finally dozed off into a restless sleep. But she wasn’t about to complain to this woman who’d seen her husband have a heart attack the day before and had still managed to get up and make breakfast for her family this morning. His mother smiled, but her face was tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was still in her robe. She turned to the stove to finish scrambling eggs. Jules walked over to Nick and took the cup of coffee he held out for her, stroking a hand down his arm to silently convey her appreciation. He’d even put in the right amounts of cream and sugar. He walked back to the kitchen table with her and took a seat next to her.
“Thank you for cooking breakfast, Mrs. Giannakis.”
“I always like to make sure my boys eat,” she said from the stove. “And please, call me Maria.”
A steaming loaf of olive bread sat in the middle of the table. It was surrounded by plates of sliced cheese, tomatoes, smoked pork, and bowls of fresh olives and mixed fruit. Next to them sat a large dish of yogurt drizzled with honey and chopped walnuts on top. Turning off the stove, his mother scraped the eggs into a serving dish and added that to the table. “Go ahead and start,” she urged, her voice warm. “Alex will be here soon.”
As if on cue, Alex walked in the back door, a pink bakery box in hand. “Good morning . . .” His gaze swept the room, lighting on Jules as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Everyone,” he finished, his voice cooling noticeably. Walking over to his mom, he gave her a hug and handed over the box. Only when he saw she was fine did he join Jules and Nick at the table. Alex nodded at his brother as he sat down, but refused to look directly at Jules. She couldn’t help but feel as though he wasn’t happy about her being here. She couldn’t blame him, because she knew that he probably didn’t trust her after what had happened. But at the same time, Nick wanted her here and she wanted to support him.
Deciding to ignore Alex, she smiled at Nick’s mom as the woman put the pie she’d pulled out of the box onto the table. “I’ve never had that before,” Jules said.
His mother nodded as if she’d expected that. “Galatopita is milk pie. It
’s made with milk and eggs. It was Nico’s favorite as a boy.” She cut out a large piece and Jules held out her plate when she offered it to her.
“And don’t forget plenty of sugar,” Nick said, shaking his head when his mom offered him a slice. “Can’t. I have the tournament coming up.”
“But it’s a tiny piece,” she pressed, trying to give him a slice that was arguably a quarter of the pie.
“Mom, I have to cut weight.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, but gave the piece to Alex instead. Alex happily cut a piece off with his fork and took a bite, smiling at Nick as he chewed. Nick looked so miserable watching his brother eat something he apparently loved that Jules couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Here, take a little bite of mine.” She held out a bite for him and he ate it, closing his eyes as if it was the best thing ever. Everyone except Alex laughed, and for a moment it was as if they were just a normal family sitting around the breakfast table without the shadow of near tragedy hanging over them. It felt good. His mom asked a few polite questions about Jules’ family and her job, but Jules could tell she wasn’t really paying attention to the answers. She was too worried. Her gaze kept going to the single coffee cup left hanging on a hook above the coffeemaker. It had World’s Best Dad written on the side and looked stained and chipped.
When everyone was finished, Jules picked up Nick’s plate along with her own. “Let me do the dishes.”
Maria stood. “You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest here.”
“It’s okay. Please let me help.” Jules gave Nick a pointed look when his mom carried some dishes to the sink.
He nodded and went over to put a hand on his mom’s shoulder. “Let us take care of it, Mom. Take your time getting ready.”
She put a hand to her pinned-up hair and looked at the clock on the stove. “It’s almost eight. I told your dad I’d be back in time for his consultation this morning.”
Dirty Boxing Page 19