I nod against him, not wanting to get up but knowing I need to. It takes me another full minute to will myself to stand. Wes presses himself off the floor, uncurling gracefully like a cat.
“You okay?” His eyes hold the question, and I think back to how many times he’s asked me the same thing since this all started.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I will be. Thanks, Wes.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.” This time it’s my forehead he kisses, soft and light, but he lingers just a second longer than would be considered “friendly.” A deep sigh escapes him when he finally pulls away.
I shut the bathroom door behind him, listening to him move around his room for a minute before the click of the bedroom door makes its way to me. The steam from the shower fills the space, warm and inviting. I strip off my dirty clothes, wishing I could strip away the last fifteen minutes and end up back in bed, snuggled up with Wes.
The hot water against my skin burns and scalds, injecting life back into me and leaving me feeling invigorated. I scrub every inch of my body, enveloped in the scent of Wes’s bodywash, my mind set to the task of figuring out what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
I feel raw and exposed. These last few months I’ve been lowering my walls, letting Wes in little by little, allowing my emotions to take the reins more than I have in years. Yet sharing my family history and being vulnerable with him left me unprotected from the shock of my dad being here in a way that I hate. I showed weakness to the two people I can’t trust not to exploit it.
Dammit. This is why I have that box inside myself where I keep all this shit locked up tight. Letting it out does nothing but bring me pain. I guess Eric and Jaz were both right when they said I don’t let people in, but how can I when this is the result?
The water beats on my shoulders, every motion on autopilot as I rebuild my walls brick by brick, until I’m back to being the Joss that I’m comfortable as. The Joss that can handle this whole situation. The one who can keep it together in the face of her father who abandoned her. The Joss who doesn’t care about the mother that stole from her and broke her trust.
The woman I am when I step out of the shower is not the same woman who stepped in. I look at myself in the mirror. The hard lines of my jaw. Eyes a dull grey, closed off, no emotion to speak of hidden in their depths. Shoulders rolled back, spine straight. I take a deep breath. There’s not even a waver or quiver in it. It’s strong and controlled.
I gather my clothes off the floor, wishing I had extras to change into. When I enter the bedroom, the tiniest crack forms in my armor. A clean hoodie lies on the bed, beckoning me forward. I slip on my jeans, wishing I had fresh underwear, before pulling the hoodie over my head, relishing the soft fabric against my bare skin.
There’s no point in putting this off any longer. I stalk to the door, pulling it open quietly, ready to get this over with. Every step comes with an extra brick, reinforcing those walls that I rely on for protection, cramming putty into the cracks made by Wes’s latest bout of thoughtfulness. I don’t have space even for him to be inside these walls right now.
It’s my dad’s voice that carries to me first. “—and you’re American right?”
“That I am. Can’t seem to pick up the Australian accent, no matter how hard I try.”
The laugh that ensues from across the room is a replica of my own. If not for the fortress around my heart, the sound of my mother’s laugh might make me sad or nostalgic, but instead, I feel nothing.
“That’s okay, babe,” I say as I join them, infusing my voice with confidence to match Wes’s. “I like your American one better anyway.”
He turns, his eyes becoming smoldering sapphires when he sees me, and I walk directly into his arms. His nose is buried in my wet hair, my face pressed to his chest, toes dangling above the floor.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers across my skin, low enough for only me to hear. “Also, as your boyfriend, I’m really excited to have my hands all over you.”
He pulls back and winks, pressing yet another kiss to the top of my hair. I try not to linger on the fact that he didn’t say “fake” boyfriend. He lowers me to the floor and I draw strength from him, letting everything else fall away. He takes up the space behind me as I step toward where my parents sit, watching me warily from the couch.
“What is it that you’re here for?” There’s no feeling in my voice, exactly how I want it to be. My mom looks taken aback by my tone, her gaze darting around anxiously. My dad is still staring at me though, as if it’s not his fault he hasn’t so much as laid eyes on me in sixteen years.
“Joss, we… your dad and I… we wanted to see you. Isn’t that enough?” Mom’s voice sends ice down my spine, and I repress a shiver in response.
My dad shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable.
“I wish it could be, but you haven’t given me a lot of reasons to trust your motives, now have you?” She recoils like I slapped her and instantly looks to my dad. What has she told him about our history? Nothing, if I had to guess. “Is that why you’re here, Brian? Just wanted to say hello?”
I may still call himDadin my head, and it may have slipped out when I first saw him, but he won’t get the honor of that title out loud again.
“Joss, I—” His voice breaks on my name, a hollow, sad noise that, if not for the walls, might actually make me want to go to him. “I did want to see you. I do. I know it’s been a long time, too long, but there’s things I’d like to say.”
He can’t look at me now, his gaze flitting from one thing to another as he takes in the room.
“Then say them. Tell me how your family is. You know, the one you left us for.”
His countenance sags, and when his eyes do finally meet mine again, the grey is rimmed with silver tears. They don’t fall but I can see them, speaking to the emotion coursing through his body. I let no such emotion show. He looks to his lap, hand smoothing the hair that is so like mine in color aside from the streaks of grey that glint in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
“That’s a long story, one you deserve to hear.” His voice quavers. “But, I—god, I’m so sorry, Joss. I know there’s nothing I can say that will make up for what I did, but if you hear nothing else, please hear this: leaving you was a mistake. The biggest I’ve ever made.”
The facade slips just enough that my mouth falls open, complete shock radiating through my body. Those were words I never thought I’d hear, and yet there they are, hanging between us.
