Page 23 of Dove
I shrugged one shoulder casually. “Stranger things have happened,” I retorted mystically, thinking of his flashy SUV sitting a few yards away from us in the driveway.
He just shook his head amusedly before offering the plate of food to me again. “Eat this at least,” he suggested. “We’ve got a while until dinner, and we both have chores to wrap up before we can call it a day. I’ll place the order to Miggy’s as soon as I’m finished. I’m still patching that hole I found in the fence over by the huckleberry bushes, and I have to call the feed store to put in an order before they close.”
My stomach fluttered as if a small butterfly had become trapped somewhere inside it. Over the simple mention of my favorite pizza joint. Even though it was one of only a handful of restaurants in the area, let alone one of the only that delivered this far out, it still meant something to me that he remembered. Like a part of me had stayed with him, even if he’d decided to move on.
The lone butterfly multiplied as I imagined us sharing pizza, sitting on the couch, and watching a movie together—like old times. We hadn’t done that in a while, evenbeforehe’d left.
But he made a good point. We both still had a long day ahead of us. Thinking of my own chores I had filling the rest of my day I took the offered plate between us. I might be stubborn, but I wasalso hungry. All that talk of pizza reminded me of the cramp in my empty stomach.
“I want garlic knots, too,” I added, before taking another bite of the sandwich he’d made me.
It was addicting to watch the sly curl of his smile, and to know I’d put it there. The ghost of a dimple formed at that small uptick, just the slightly bit. However small, it warmed me all over to know I’d caused it. He was pleased, and I was pleased he was pleased.
Ugh.I forgot how disgusting I could get when he was around.
The immunity I’d built up to one Joshua James Hex had clearly waned in his absence.
Time to build up a tolerance again, I decided resolutely. Because even if I yearned for him to come back, to not leave, he could never be mine.
Not how I wanted him to be.
8
DOVE
We parted ways shortly after that, and despite the food I’d filled my belly with, hunger lingered in me.
A hunger food wouldn’t satisfy.
With a ferocity that would have made my late stepfather proud, I threw myself into my remaining chores, instead of allowing the thoughts I wanted to get lost in consume me.
Thoughts of Josh’s warm body next to mine on the couch, the press of his muscled thigh to mine as we sat close, closer than we should. Thoughts of the throaty rasp of his laughter, and how it would rumble through me like a rolling thunderstorm. Thoughts of how a small lock of my hair might slip free of my bun, of how his hand just might stray to push it back, ghosting over the shell of my ear as he leaned in closer?—
“Fuck!” I hissed, shaking out my thumb. A small bead of blood welled up, and I sucked it into my mouth, a faint metallic tang bursting across my tongue.
“Pay attention, Dove,” I chastised myself under my breath. I’d developed a nasty habit of talking to myself, especially after Josh had left. At first it had been because I was used to his company and chatting with him while we completed chores,but after my voiced thoughts went unanswered… it had been because the silence was deafeningly lonely.
They say talking to yourself is only a problem if you start answering yourself.
What they don’t tell you is that the silence is ten times worse.
Hearing my own reply was better than hearing the echo of Josh’s in my mind.
I mean… I was already fucked in the head for wanting my stepbrother, wasn’t I? Why not add a little more crazy to the mix?
Licking at my thumb a final time, I wielded the cutters and maneuvered around the chicken wire a little more carefully.
There was plenty of daylight left, even if the day was ending, and I wanted to reinforce a part of the coop before night fell. I was afraid of predators getting in and harassing the chickens—or worse. We had some pretty wily foxes in these parts, and if they saw a way in, they’d take it.
Unfortunately, the wire just wasn’t cooperating with me tonight.
It might be because you’re daydreaming about your brother like some sicko.
Stepbrother,I corrected my own thoughts.
Oh god, I really was going insane.
The rolled-up chicken wire was a challenge, slightly bent and tangled from when we last had used it and stored it away. I wrangled with it, hissing again as a sharp edge nicked me.
