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Michael stopped walking, defensiveness overtaking his common sense, and his voice rose. “So what? Because I had money I’m not allowed to have problems?”
“What?” Josiah turned so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. He shook his head, mouth flapping open several times. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I was only half paying attention and that was rude.” His entire body seemed to hunch a bit, as if expecting a loud (possibly violent) rebuke for not listening.
He hated having put that fear in Josiah, but it irritated him when folks assumed having money solved all his problems and life should be a breeze. He reined that irritation out of his voice, though, wanting to give Josiah the benefit of the doubt. “Then what did you mean?”
“I meant the lonely part even when you’re surrounded by people.” Josiah seemed to relax a fraction, as if sensing Michael wasn’t going to scream or attack. Michael silently berated himself for causing that sort of reaction from Josiah in the first place. “I’ve never been in a situation like that, where I’m at fancy parties with food and people and music. It sounds like a fairy tale compared to my life, only knowing a handful of people at a time, and I always lose them. I guess we both know what it’s like to be lonely. My comment wasn’t about the money at all, I promise.”
“Okay. Thanks for that.” He never thought Josiah was the kind of person to judge someone for their wealth, and he was right. “And I’m sorry I snapped. I wasn’t trying to downplay your feelings of isolation at McBride’s. Just trying to tell you I get it.”
“I know. Like I said, I wasn’t paying attention like I should have. I let my mind wander.” Josiah took his glasses off, rubbed both eyes with the fingers of his free hand, then put them back on. The brief glimpse without glasses showed a much younger, more vulnerable face than with them. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Josiah.” Michael looked up at the dark sky littered with thousands of twinkling lights of all sizes. Stars that had long since burned out before their light even made it to Earth, but no less beautiful for having arrived. “My favorite place in our—my—old house was the upstairs balcony, and not because we had a great view of our neighbor’s pool.”
Josiah smiled. “Why then?”
“Because I could see the sky. I mean, we were in the city so the light pollution kept me from seeing a lot of stars, but for our first anniversary of moving into the house, Kenny bought me a telescope. I used to tell him about the stars out here. They were one of my best memories of Weston. The telescope helped me see more stars. To remember that even when the people around me didn’t see me, the stars still did because at least for my lifetime, their light is constant.”
“That’s...wow.” He blinked hard several times, eyes glistening and not from the stars. “I think that’s one of the most profound things I’ve ever heard someone say about the stars.”
“I’m sure Galileo said something even more poetic.”
“I doubt it, because that was personal to you, Michael. The stars mean something to you. You feel seen by them, while I don’t feel seen by anything.”
Michael’s fingers twitched and he barely resisted the impulse to take Josiah’s hand. “I see you.”
Josiah blinked hard, and Michael could have kicked himself for letting those honest words slip out. He’d known Josiah for two weeks, and in that short time Josiah had gone through at least one major trauma with McBride. The last thing he needed was Michael panting after him, no matter how much Josiah’s sweet, boy-next-door looks and demeanor appealed to him.
He braced for Josiah to walk away in a huff, maybe look disgusted at practically being hit on by an older man on a dark country road. Hell, Michael would deserve it if Josiah told him to go to hell and quit tomorrow.
Instead, Josiah shook his head. “I can’t even see myself anymore. But thanks for saying it.”
“Then let me help you see yourself. You are a kind person with a huge heart, and even if you don’t see those things, other people do. Not just me. We see the way you shine even if you don’t.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, but I’m scared to let anyone else see me. Probably for a long time.”
Josiah’s expression wasn’t sad or resigned, merely tired and confused, like someone waking up after a long, deep sleep and still orienting themselves to the world. Still figuring out what being alive was all about.
It made something hopeful flutter behind Michael’s breastbone. “But not forever?”
“I can’t think about forever. Only what’s happening right now. And right now? We both just got out of bad rela—situations.”
Michael hadn’t missed the word slip, and it made him hate McBride even more for how badly he’d hurt Josiah’s feelings.
“I don’t want to rush into something,” Josiah continued, “and risk losing your friendship. I like you, Michael. You’ve been amazing and patient and kind. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone like you, someone I know in my heart I can rely on. Can we please be friends and just keep getting to know each other?”
“Of course we can be friends. Wearefriends. And you’re right. I still need to lick my wounds over Kenny, and you need to get past what McBride did to you. And as your friend, my offer to listen is open-ended.”
“I know. Thank you. You’re a fantastic friend.” Josiah flashed him a sad smile. “I, uh, think I’m ready to go back.” He stepped around Michael and started walking back to the farmhouse.
Michael watched him go, giving Josiah the space he was clearly asking for. He was grateful Josiah felt comfortable enough with him to share everything he had, and to verbalize what he needed from Michael going forward. Friendship was all he’d expected during this new adjustment period, so he would accept and give it back in return. Josiah deserved all the peace and happiness in the world.
Michael gave the stars another long look, made a silent wish for his friend to receive those two important things, and then followed Josiah home.
Chapter Twelve
Josiah stood in front of the trailer’s door peering out the small window, his attention on the Pearce house. Only two lights seemed to blaze: one in the living room and one upstairs in Michael’s bedroom. He’d stood there for half an hour or so, his walk and conversation with Michael tumbling around his brain without stopping. Part of his heart pulled in the direction of the house and Michael, while the rest of it kept his feet firmly rooted in place.
He’d enjoyed their walk more than he could put into words. Not only the comfort of Michael’s company, but also the blanket of stars above that meant the world to him but in a vastly different way than for Michael. For Michael, the stars made him feel seen and not so alone in the universe. For Josiah, they made him feel infinitely small and unnoticeable, and that’s what he wanted to be from now on.
