Page 45 of Won't Let Go
Leaning up on an elbow, Josh reaches across me, grabs my left hand, and slides a ring up my finger.Thatfinger. The important one.
I can’t see it in the dark, but I can feel it—the weight of the band and whatever jewel is set in the middle.
His hands are damp and shaky as he glides it past my knuckle. “I carry it with me everywhere. Now it’s yours.”
“Josh,” I gasp.
“Just wear it. Please. You don’t have to say yes. Just wear it.”
So I do. I wear it. Because it’s late, I can’t argue with a drunk man, and today has been a tornado of emotions.
When I don’t reply, Josh sighs as if he were waiting for a blowup. When it doesn’t come, he settles behind me and kisses my shoulder as he draws little designs across my stomach. I shouldn’t feel safe in a drunk man’s arms with his member still against my bottom. But I know Josh. He would never take things too far. Not in the sexual regard, anyhow.
Sleep eludes me as I play with the ring, lost in thought. Josh mumbles in his sleep and wakes now and again to hug me a little tighter.
For hours today, I sat in this very room, in this same bed, drawing tattoo flash to avoid dissecting what happened between us. The only man in my life went down on me and said he wants to marry me. A man who's seen the good, the bad, and the ugly bits of me.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need him in my life.
He and Loretta are my constant—my ride or die.
He’s called Hunter’s his more than once, and Hunter called him dad. I can’t think of a bigger compliment.
Last month, I rested in bed just like this, staring out of my window, into the starlit sky, plotting my death. My cheek was on this pillow with the same blanket draped over my legs. But theperson behind me wasn’t there to keep me warm and fight the bad guys with me.
I don’t know what tomorrow brings.
I don’t know much these days…
But I’m no longer dead inside.
I feel stronger than I have in months.
And that’s because Josh gave me a part of me back. A different version of me. A me who would be dead if not for him. A me who has a loved and supported son thanks to him.
Deep down, I know I should be spiraling, but I’m not. For once, I’m solid. I’m safe… and I’m grateful to have this big arm around me, even if he needs a shower.
15
JADE
Pouringorange juice into two cups, I shake what my mama gave me to the beat of a nineties pop song playing on my phone. Yes, I know Josh hates this music, but I’m in a great mood and he’s asleep, so I’m safe. I’m also making him breakfast for once—those pancakes he promised in his drunken stupor. They should help with whatever hangover he’s gonna have.
Oh… and the ring, it’s still on my finger. Partly because it’s a gorgeous emerald with a diamond band, and partly because he may not remember giving it to me, and I can’t wait to see how red his face gets when he realizes what he did last night.
I’m giddy with anticipation.
A little mix, mix here, and a pan heating there, and I’m living it up barefoot in my pajamas as I lip-sync.
“Fuck. You’re gorgeous,” the man in question rasps in that just-woke-up gravel. Padding straight into the kitchen, he wraps his arms around me from behind, nuzzles my neck, and kisses me there. “You makin’ pancakes, my love?”
My silly stomach swoops down to my feet and flies back up again like a rollercoaster ride at his sweetness.
A naughty hand slides down my front to cup me there, and I almost drop the spatula. “How about we finish those, and I get my real breakfast?” he whispers hotly against the shell of my ear.
On a gasp, I swat his arm. “Josh.”
