Jericho

JERICHOCoding. It was a part of what I did and I loved doing it. I loved being able to hold the power of something at my fingertips. Writing code meant programming something to do exactly what you wanted it to do and I was one of the best in the world at it. I had my own style—every hacker did—but mine was impenetrable. No one could breach any of my firewalls once I was done.I could sit up till the late hours of the night concentrating on coding. The same went for tonight. Sure, exhaustion weighed down my eyelids like ten-pound dumbbells and my muscles creaked in agony every time I moved because of how stiff they were.When last did I wake up?I shook the question away and returned to the code I was typing out. It was something I had been working on for a while and I had a lot of time on my hands since I graduated early with my Master's. It was a big thing but I refused to let anyone make a big deal out of it. Especially when the important people in my life expected it to happen.If

JERICHOI sat back in my lazy boy with Slash curled at my feet. He was in a bad mood ever since I told him about Odette because he was as much her dog as he was mine. I still remember when her father had helped me pick him out as a pup. Most of the time he stayed with them while he trained and eventually became Odette's dad's partner on the field. Both Gunnar and Ace were so busy or never cared to notice Slash missing around the house. As long as I kept him out of their way, they didn't care. They weren't dog people anyway.As Slash grew older, he became weaker and slower. It led to him retiring and becoming a full-time pet. So, he grew up around both Odette and me easily becoming our dog.I brought my beer to my lips, letting the bitter brew slide down my throat while my brother watched me from across the room with his piercing hazel eyes. That was the thing about Ace. He may have been a co

ODETTEMy shaky, numb fingers didn't feel the condensation that had built on the chilled glass of lemonade. I couldn't feel the smooth surface of the glass itself or the amount of pressure I was using to grip it. However, I could see that it wasn't much, and—no matter how much I tried—I couldn't get a firmer hold on it.Frustration stirred in my belly and my jaw locked to keep my whimper from escaping. I felt useless and the more I tried to hold this glass, the more the feeling stomped down on me with no mercy. Tears brimmed my eyes and I felt my lips quiver with an oncoming sob but I was in public so I refused to let myself fall apart.Not now. Not here. "Let me help you," Jericho whispered, sliding his chair closer to mine. His larger hands cupped mine over the glass and I wished I could have felt the warmth they surely offered, "you're probably tired

JERICHOI watched Odette from where I sat. Her features were grimly twisted, teeth grating against each other, and brows furrowed in concentration. The nurse that was with her gave her an encouraging smile but Odette didn't return it. The smile only seemed to irritate her more.My attention dropped to the red stress ball in her hand. The nurse had instructed her to squeeze the ball as hard as she could but her fingers weren't cooperating. They trembled and barely moved no matter how much effort she put into it. Her fingers curled around the ball with no pressure added but the nurse seemed happy with the little Odette had done.She would be removing the cast on her leg later this week which meant she could start strengthening her leg to walk again. To me and the rest of the doctors and nurses here, she was making progress. Excellent progress even. To her, she wasn't.Odet

JERICHO "It feels good to finally be walking on my two feet," Odette grinned down at me as she rotated her ankle clockwise and then anti-clockwise, working the muscle and the bone. It had been two weeks since her cast was removed and things were going smoothly. I even noticed some sort of spark flare back to life in her eyes. It warmed my heart to know that she was finally getting out of her routine. She no longer sat caged in her room all day. In the mornings she would go on a walk around the block to strengthen her leg and in the afternoon she would walk Slash. Admittedly, I was scared that with all the progress she was making, she would want to leave and head home. Only, her hands still needed so much work. I leaned back on the couch and tossed the tv remote onto the coffee table, "Told you my swan would finally get her wings back. You should trust me more often."Her button nose crinkled in amusement—something I always found adorable, "Sweety, you sound a little too cocky ther