Page 133 of When Love Takes Root

He didn’t speak.

I pushed my locs back over my shoulder and tried to steady the little tremor in my voice. “I wasn’t fully asleep. I was in that place where your body is gone, but your spirit is still listening. I heard you say God didn’t bring me to your door for you to mishandle me.”

His throat moved.

“I heard you say you’d learn my children, not tolerate them.”

The words almost broke on the way out.

Josiah lowered his head for a second, then looked at me again. “I didn’t mean to make you feel watched.”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t mean to speak over you without asking.”

My voice softened. “You covered me. There’s a difference.”

His eyes searched mine.

I held the comforter against my chest. “Nobody has covered me like that in a long time. Jamal covered me,” I whispered. “In his way. He wasn’t perfect, but he covered me. Covered us. After he died, everybody loved me, helped me, checked on me, brought food, watched the kids, sat in the house. But that’s different from being covered by a man who sees you as his assignment and not his obligation.”

Josiah stood from the chaise slowly.

He stood in the blue morning light, giving me room to decide.

I looked at him and felt something in me stop pretending.

“I’m scared,” I said.

“I know.”

“I’m scared because I’m not confused.” His eyes held mine. I breathed out. “I know it’s fast. I know grief makes time strange, and I know desire can make people lie to themselves. But I’m not lying to myself right now.”

His voice dropped. “What do you feel?”

I looked down at my hands. “Like God put you somewhere I can’t ignore. Like my heart is waking up, and I’m scared to trust it.” Josiah’s mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed serious. “I’m falling for you,” I said.

Josiah didn’t rush toward me. He didn’t grin like he’d won something. He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, there was enough feeling in his face to make my own eyes burn.

“I’m already there,” he said.

My breath caught.

He took one step closer and stopped. “I wasn’t trying to say it before you were ready to hear it.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t want you not to say it either.”

His smile came, faint and careful. “That sounds like you.”

“It is me. Complicated and dramatic.”

“You’re beautiful and honest.”

I looked away before I started crying again. “You keep doing that.”