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What happened to Everett? Why are we going backward?
And why is she asking me that? Surely it’s obvious. Fucking hell.
“You shouldn’t show me things like that, Josie.” One of us needs to keep a clear head tonight, and it looks like it’s gonna be me. She dated my nephew, for god’s sake. The nephew who’s right next door. “It’s wrong.”
Josie’s breath catches and she nods, but she looks so damn sad. And I’m a weak man, because I can handle anything but her sadness.
The mattress dips beneath my weight as I sit carefully by her hip. Josie’s eyes are still closed, and this room is so quiet. My skin smells like sawdust, even though I already showered, and the faint scent of whiskey drifts on her soft breaths.
“If it wasn’t wrong,” I say slowly, grinding out each word, “I’d tell you it was the best fucking sight of my life. I’d tell you nothing will ever come close, and I’ll never forget it. Okay? But I can’t tell you those things. You know I can’t.”
Pink lips press together. A single tear rolls down her temple into her hair.
Ah, shit.
She’s drunk. That’s all this is. She drank too much, and now she’s emotional—that’s all.
Josie gusts out a long, shaky breath. “Sorry,” she whispers, and my throat is so tight. I can’t speak.
The mattress groans as I lean forward, and then her forehead is soft and warm beneath my lips. I linger as my heart beats louder and louder, flinging itself against my ribs.
I should sit up. Should get the hell out of this bedroom. The longer I press this kiss against her forehead, the less innocent it gets.
My hands ball into fists, knuckles creaking.
“Goodnight, Josie.” The room spins as I push upright, movements clumsy as I tear myself away. She’s been drinking, damn it, and even if she hadn’t—we can’t. I can’t. “Sleep well.”
I stagger out of there, and I leave a piece of my soul behind, tucked under those covers.
* * *
“But I just got here.”
Harry winches the ratchet strap tighter around the truck bed, securing the custom-carved dresser I’ve been working on in place. He’s frowning slightly, staring at his hands instead of at me, but I know he’s hurt that I’m taking off so soon. He only got here yesterday, and I’m running away at the crack of dawn.
He has no idea. If I stay around Josie Martin any longer, my nephew will have a hell of a lot more to be hurt about than this.
“This dresser is late already,” I lie. In truth, I’m taking this order four days before schedule. “And I won’t be gone long. You and Josie can catch up for a few days, then I’ll be back before you know it.”
Back with a clear head. With new iron-clad restraint.
With the memory of her bare body not quite so fresh in my brain.
Will something happen between them once I leave them alone? Are they just waiting for me to get out of the way? Fuck, I hope not.
Harry grunts, and I know I’m being a dick. I bugged him over and over to come home early for his friend, and now I’m high-tailing it out of here with only the thinnest explanation.
“Did something happen?” he asks quietly, and my chin jerks up, but he’s still frowning at his hands on the ratchet strap.
I swallow hard. “Like what?”
For a long moment, there’s only us and the creaking chorus of insects in the long grass; my dusty, idling truck and the scent of wood sap.
Then Harry shrugs, and I can breathe again.
“Don’t know.” He smirks and jostles me as he rounds the corner of the truck, but not hard. He’s teasing. “But you’re not exactly Mr Welcoming, Ev.”
That has not been mine and Josie’s problem.
