Page 208 of Josephine and Clay

About her waking up scared this morning while I ignored phone calls because I didn’t want Boone seeing what a mess I’d become.

I tighten my grip on her hands slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For all of it.”

My throat tightens around the words.

“For leaving. For making you think you had to do this alone. For every time I made you question where you stood with me.”

Josie’s expression softens immediately. “Clay⁠—”

“No, let me say it.” I exhale hard through my nose. “I’ve been acting like my life’s happening to me instead of because of me.”

I glance toward the motel window where sunlight bleeds weakly through the cheap curtains.

Ten days ago these motel rooms felt temporary in the comforting way motel rooms usually do. No expectations or permanence. No responsibility following you past checkout time.

Now it just feels empty.

I look back at Josie sitting beside me and realize something that should’ve been obvious weeks ago.

Somewhere along the way, home stopped being a place and became a handful of people I couldn't imagine losing.

A knock sounds against the motel door before I can say any of that out loud.

Boone’s voice follows a second later. “Y'all done rewriting each other's emotional damage, or should Rose and I circle the parking lot another ten minutes?”

Josie laughs quietly under her breath while I close my eyes. “That man really was born forty-five years old.”

“Open the door, Clay.”

“I’m injured.”

“And dramatic.”

I push myself upright with a grunt while my knee immediately punishes me for existing. Josie reaches out automatically like she’s going to steady me, then catches herself halfway.

I take her hand anyway.

Her eyes flick up to mine in surprise.

I don’t let go.

Boone notices immediately when I open the door. Rose stands beside him, balancing a takeout bag and coffees while Boone studies me carefully.

“Well,” he says slowly. “Nobody’s thrown a lamp yet. That feels promising.”

Rose elbows him lightly before stepping inside. “We brought burgers.”

“Bless you,” I mutter.

Josie moves toward the tiny table while Rose immediately falls into gentle mother hen mode.

“You need to sit,” Rose tells her.

“I’ve been sitting all day.”