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His voice drew me out of the pit of despair, and I realized I was staring at the phone in my hand. "What? Um, not Devon."
"You did hear from him earlier, right?"
I felt Josh's intense gaze burning into me and set my phone down. "No, actually. I didn't."
Our eyes caught, and I couldn't tell what I was seeing in his gaze. Sympathy? Frustration? Pity?
A long moment passed before either of us said anything. "That sucks," he eventually said.
Lifting my bare shoulder in a half shrug, I covered myself even more with the blanket, suddenly cold. "It's fine. That's not what's bothering me," I added before I even thought about it.
"Then what is it?" Josh asked, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down.
How did Josh know me so well? I mean, how did he even know something was wrong?
I felt a rush of anger towards Devon. Where the hell was my supposed fiancé? Sure, he couldn't be here physically. But damn it, he could have found a way to be supportive. The last time we had talked, I'd even mentioned that this day was coming up. He fucking knew it.
On top of having to pass this awful milestone for the third time, I felt unsupported by the person who was supposed to be there for me. Always. If your fiancé didn't have your back in this world, then who would?
"Hey, Jessica. Seriously, what is it?" Josh prodded.
Taking a breath, I adjusted my body to face him, seeing the concerned expression etching his features. "It's the date. Three years ago, on this day, we lost my dad."
A dawning understanding transformed his face. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry."
"That's okay. You didn't know. I never told you."
He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself, staring at the silent TV.
"What?" I asked, curious to know what he was thinking. "What were you going to say?"
Returning his eyes to mine, he still hesitated. But then he finally spoke up. "I'm just kind of pissed at your fiancé. What kind of guy stands you up on a day like this?"
My initial instinct was to defend Devon. However, for the first time in our two years together, I couldn't really think of a proper argument because I was angry too. The only excuse was illness, sickness, an accident, or something like that. Not that I wished that on him or anyone.
So I ended up not saying anything, just looked down and played with the fringe on the blanket surrounding me.
"Sorry," Josh mumbled so quietly I barely heard him.
But there was no need for his apology. He wasn't the one who needed forgiveness. "It's fine."
A long, awkward pause filled the space between us as my head whirled around in circles from the beer, from exhaustion, from the adrenaline earlier, and worst of all, the sadness permeating my heart.
Sudden realization washed over me like a rogue wave that I wanted to confide in Josh. He'd become such an amazing friend to me, someone I trusted, someone whose opinion I valued. And I wanted to tell him the whole story about my dad. I actually wanted to tell him how it was all my fault.
