Page 106 of Dove
My protests died on my tongue as he delicately wrapped my towel around me like a burrito and started using his own to dry my hair. Warmth that had nothing to do with how well I was bundled up spread through me. My heart panged with longing. If there was anything I wanted in life, it was this.
It was Josh.
I was so scared of allowing myself to hope, because hope was one of the most dangerous things to have.
But as the smile grew on Josh’s face, I couldn’t help but feel it.
Hope was many things. Inspiring. Uplifting. Limitless.
Risky.
Josh was worth the risk.
My stomach swooped nervously as uncertainty and fear crept back in. I was afraid of losing him again. Even if he promised me that wouldn’t happen, doubt was still there.
But hope was there, too. Outshining it.
As Josh finally started to towel himself off, I stepped out of the tub and gathered my clothes. When they were piled in my arms, I hesitated, unsure.
Slowly I crept toward the door, hoping to make a clean break so I could have a moment to clear my head in my room.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I froze, peeking over my shoulder. Josh stood there with a towel wrapped around his hips and his arms crossed, looking like a seductive genie ready to hand out far more than three wishes.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
24
DOVE
As the dust settled behind Josh’s SUV, I let the cheesy smile I’d been holding back all morning bleed onto my face.
Apparently, “not done with you yet” was code for “I want to snuggle with you.”
Last night, I got ready for bed in a post-orgasmic fog, and when I crawled under the covers Josh slid in behind me, snug up against my back, in a perfect mirror of what we’d done in the shower.
Only…he hadn’t tried to do anything more than that. He just curled himself around me, cuddled close, and wrapped his arm around my waist like he belonged there. The loneliness the cloak of night usually brought vanished in an instant, and I knew Josh would protect me from the nightmares that had surged back to plague me.
It was easy to let the weight of loss press down when night fell. To allow the dark hours to suffocate me with sadness as memories crept up unbidden to remind me of everything I’d lost, everything that I’d never have again, everything that could never be. My heart clenched painfully in my chest, and I let out a shaky exhale.
He pulled me back into his chest, nuzzling my damp hair.
“Whatcha’ thinking about,” he asked quietly, the hushed tone of his voice bringing me comfort.
Night also gave the illusion of courage. The things bubbling up inside me were easier to talk about when black enveloped us. When I couldn’t see his face and he couldn’t see mine.
“Our parents,” I whispered back. He tightened his arm around my waist, and I reminded myself that Josh had me. “You,” I tacked on truthfully.
His chin pressed into my shoulder, beard tickling my skin. “What about me?”
There was still so much that lingered between us, even if we’d decided to pursue…this. There were years of his absence that still wound itself around my heart like barbwire, guarding it, reminding me that all it would take to shatter it again was him leaving.
But I was trying to move past that, and a part of that was understanding his absence and his silence. Even though he’d told me why he’d left, I wanted to know the reason he hadn’t reached out. Why he hadn’t contacted me. I understood his strained relationship with his father influenced him staying away—that Gareth had ordered him to leave the farm. What I didn’t understand was him leavingme. Completely and utterly without explanation.
Three years of nothing. I wanted—no, I needed—to know why.
“Why didn’t you call me?” The pleading note in my voice carried in the silent room as I practically begged for his answer. “Why didn’t you text me, write me,anything?”
