“What goes on?” he murmurs.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my hoodie and type, I’m sorry for ruining your plans with Grams.
“It’s fine,” he says, his voice sharp, when I show him the screen.
The silence that passes is awkward, filled with tension—tension I try to relieve.
So, you weren’t even going to say hello to me? I type, forcing my own smile when he looks up at me.
He laughs. It’s quiet. But I hear it. I see it. And I let myself get completely lost in it. “Yeah,” he says, looking up at the stars. “I’m sorry about that. I guess seeing you just…” He faces me now, his eyes searching mine. “You kind of knocked the wind out of me, you know?”
I exhale slowly, feeling the effects of his words, and I do everything I can to tear my gaze away from him and look down between us. I tap his cast, something I knew would be there because an e-mail alerted me to it three days ago. After looking back up at him, I raise my eyebrows. “It’s fine,” he says with a shrug.
He’s leaning in to me now, his arm touching mine, his leg doing the same as he reads my message. And Tommy’s? Is his okay?
“He’s all good,” Josh says as I stare down at my phone. “He healed like a pro.”
That’s good, I type, my thumbs trembling. Where is he now?
“Robby and Kim’s. I just left there.”
I hide my grin, glad he wasn’t with a girl, and nod as I look up at the sky, trying to ignore the effect he has on me.
“So.” He pushes my leg with his, breaking the silence. “I kind of planned this surprise party for your grams tomorrow, but I can cancel,” he says, replacing his hat on his head. “If you wanted to do something with her or whatever. Just let me know now so I can make the calls first thing.”
“No,” I mouth, shaking my head, my smile wide. My thumbs move across the phone again. That’s really sweet of you to do that. She’s going to love it, Josh. Thank you.
He doesn’t respond for a while, so I turn to him, to his eyes set right on mine and I try to read him, try to feel something more than the nerves and the tension building between us.
His eyes narrow as he licks his lips, lips chapped from all the outdoor skateboarding he does. “You don’t need to thank me. She means a lot to me. Even before you came along.”
I’m not exactly sure why his words hurt, but they do, so I reach into my pocket and pull out the cash that he’d given my grams. It wasn’t the reason I came out here, why I’d waited all night to see him, but it was my saving grace, and right now I’m weakening—by his presence, by his words, by our pain. I hold out the money for him and wait for him to take it.
Aaron paid for lunch. He said thanks for the offer and for booking it all. He really enjoyed the meal, I type, not knowing what else to say.
Josh shoves the money in his pocket and leans forward, his arms resting on his knees. He lets out a moan from deep in his throat and looks at the darkness in front of him. “I’m glad you’re here, Becs. It means a lot to your grams that you are. But do me a favor…” He faces me. “Don’t talk to me about him, okay?” I open my mouth, my words on the tip of my tongue, but he beats me to it. “It’s bad enough that I have to be around him, in my own fucking house, but it kills me to have you sit here and talk about him.”
Crossing my arms, I narrow my eyes at him, my mind reeling with a response. As soon as one comes, I type frantically on my phone. You’re being mean.
He reads the message and then drops his head in his hands, another frustrated grunt leaving him. I watch the rise and fall of his shoulders, wide and nothing but muscle, pulling against the fabric of his shirt. After removing his hat, he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “I’m not being mean,” he mutters. “I’m just being honest, Becca.” He sighs loudly, still refusing to look at me. “You know,” he starts, his voice low. “When things didn’t work out between us, I thought about how it would feel when you moved on. What it would be like to know that it was some other guy lying next to you at night, some other guy who got to see you in ways that I’ve spent the past year and half dreaming about. I hate that he gets to touch you, and hold you, and get lost in your eyes and feel everything I felt, and still feel. And for a long time it was okay…” He sniffs once and wipes his eyes against his sleeve, keeping his head lowered. There’s no anger in his voice, no insult in his words. Just pure heartbreak. His and mine. “It was fine because I was never jealous of a specific person. I was jealous of everyone and everything around you. I was jealous of the air you breathed, the paths you walked, even the hearts you’d crush. Because they all got to be around you and I couldn’t.” He finally looks up, his glazed eyes doing nothing to cover his torment. “But then I met him and now he has a face and a name, and I hate him. And I told you I would. I told you I’d smile and I’d nod and I’d be amicable toward him. For your sake and for your grams. But I fucking hate him. And you can’t blame me for that.” He chokes on a breath and stands quickly. “You can’t be hurt and you can’t be upset that it makes me sick to my stomach having to sit here and listen to you talk about him. Listen to another guy’s name fall from your lips. Lips I’ve craved and he’s tasted. You just can’t, Becca.”
7
—Joshua—
The pounding on the door matches the throbbing in my head, and my first thought is that it’s Aaron knocking. That Becca had gone back to her bed and back in his arms, crying about the way I’d left her on my steps. But then I remember it’s Chaz’s birthday, and I curse myself for staying out so late last night and forgetting my plans. I put on some pants and tear open the plastic around a new Globe T-shirt sitting in my suitcase before shrugging it on. Then I rub my eyes and inhale deeply, hoping to make it through today. For Chaz, and maybe for my own goddamn sanity. A middle-aged man looks up from the clipboard in his hand when I answer the door. “You Josh Warden?” he asks.
“Yes, sir.”
He hands me a stack of papers. “Here are the non-disclosures and insurance papers you requested. All my workers signed them.” I can tell he’s holding back an eye roll, and to be honest, I understand why. But Chris makes everyone who does work for me fill out the stupid papers. “What are you anyway? One of those reality stars or something?” he asks, looking into my two-bedroom garage apartment.
I drop the forms on the entry table. “Or something.”
“That’s cool.” He shrugs, already bored with the notion. “Where do you want us to set up?”
I step out, shutting the door behind me, and lead him to the backyard. The driveway is already filled with catering vans and decorators, and even though it’s just a small party with Chaz’s church lady friends, I wanted to do something nice for her. I owe her that much. “So you guys will be done by 1? It’s a surprise, so I’d like it ready before she gets back from church,” I tell him.
He grins. “You had the funds, I got the manpower.” And with that, he gets to work.
I watch, making sure they don’t do any damage to Chaz’s garden. A few minutes later Robby shows up, his truck loud as it reverses down the driveway. I walk over and inspect the timber loaded in the bed. “It looks good,” I shout while he jumps down from his seat.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my hoodie and type, I’m sorry for ruining your plans with Grams.
“It’s fine,” he says, his voice sharp, when I show him the screen.
The silence that passes is awkward, filled with tension—tension I try to relieve.
So, you weren’t even going to say hello to me? I type, forcing my own smile when he looks up at me.
He laughs. It’s quiet. But I hear it. I see it. And I let myself get completely lost in it. “Yeah,” he says, looking up at the stars. “I’m sorry about that. I guess seeing you just…” He faces me now, his eyes searching mine. “You kind of knocked the wind out of me, you know?”
I exhale slowly, feeling the effects of his words, and I do everything I can to tear my gaze away from him and look down between us. I tap his cast, something I knew would be there because an e-mail alerted me to it three days ago. After looking back up at him, I raise my eyebrows. “It’s fine,” he says with a shrug.
He’s leaning in to me now, his arm touching mine, his leg doing the same as he reads my message. And Tommy’s? Is his okay?
“He’s all good,” Josh says as I stare down at my phone. “He healed like a pro.”
That’s good, I type, my thumbs trembling. Where is he now?
“Robby and Kim’s. I just left there.”
I hide my grin, glad he wasn’t with a girl, and nod as I look up at the sky, trying to ignore the effect he has on me.
“So.” He pushes my leg with his, breaking the silence. “I kind of planned this surprise party for your grams tomorrow, but I can cancel,” he says, replacing his hat on his head. “If you wanted to do something with her or whatever. Just let me know now so I can make the calls first thing.”
“No,” I mouth, shaking my head, my smile wide. My thumbs move across the phone again. That’s really sweet of you to do that. She’s going to love it, Josh. Thank you.
He doesn’t respond for a while, so I turn to him, to his eyes set right on mine and I try to read him, try to feel something more than the nerves and the tension building between us.
His eyes narrow as he licks his lips, lips chapped from all the outdoor skateboarding he does. “You don’t need to thank me. She means a lot to me. Even before you came along.”
I’m not exactly sure why his words hurt, but they do, so I reach into my pocket and pull out the cash that he’d given my grams. It wasn’t the reason I came out here, why I’d waited all night to see him, but it was my saving grace, and right now I’m weakening—by his presence, by his words, by our pain. I hold out the money for him and wait for him to take it.
Aaron paid for lunch. He said thanks for the offer and for booking it all. He really enjoyed the meal, I type, not knowing what else to say.
Josh shoves the money in his pocket and leans forward, his arms resting on his knees. He lets out a moan from deep in his throat and looks at the darkness in front of him. “I’m glad you’re here, Becs. It means a lot to your grams that you are. But do me a favor…” He faces me. “Don’t talk to me about him, okay?” I open my mouth, my words on the tip of my tongue, but he beats me to it. “It’s bad enough that I have to be around him, in my own fucking house, but it kills me to have you sit here and talk about him.”
Crossing my arms, I narrow my eyes at him, my mind reeling with a response. As soon as one comes, I type frantically on my phone. You’re being mean.
He reads the message and then drops his head in his hands, another frustrated grunt leaving him. I watch the rise and fall of his shoulders, wide and nothing but muscle, pulling against the fabric of his shirt. After removing his hat, he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “I’m not being mean,” he mutters. “I’m just being honest, Becca.” He sighs loudly, still refusing to look at me. “You know,” he starts, his voice low. “When things didn’t work out between us, I thought about how it would feel when you moved on. What it would be like to know that it was some other guy lying next to you at night, some other guy who got to see you in ways that I’ve spent the past year and half dreaming about. I hate that he gets to touch you, and hold you, and get lost in your eyes and feel everything I felt, and still feel. And for a long time it was okay…” He sniffs once and wipes his eyes against his sleeve, keeping his head lowered. There’s no anger in his voice, no insult in his words. Just pure heartbreak. His and mine. “It was fine because I was never jealous of a specific person. I was jealous of everyone and everything around you. I was jealous of the air you breathed, the paths you walked, even the hearts you’d crush. Because they all got to be around you and I couldn’t.” He finally looks up, his glazed eyes doing nothing to cover his torment. “But then I met him and now he has a face and a name, and I hate him. And I told you I would. I told you I’d smile and I’d nod and I’d be amicable toward him. For your sake and for your grams. But I fucking hate him. And you can’t blame me for that.” He chokes on a breath and stands quickly. “You can’t be hurt and you can’t be upset that it makes me sick to my stomach having to sit here and listen to you talk about him. Listen to another guy’s name fall from your lips. Lips I’ve craved and he’s tasted. You just can’t, Becca.”
7
—Joshua—
The pounding on the door matches the throbbing in my head, and my first thought is that it’s Aaron knocking. That Becca had gone back to her bed and back in his arms, crying about the way I’d left her on my steps. But then I remember it’s Chaz’s birthday, and I curse myself for staying out so late last night and forgetting my plans. I put on some pants and tear open the plastic around a new Globe T-shirt sitting in my suitcase before shrugging it on. Then I rub my eyes and inhale deeply, hoping to make it through today. For Chaz, and maybe for my own goddamn sanity. A middle-aged man looks up from the clipboard in his hand when I answer the door. “You Josh Warden?” he asks.
“Yes, sir.”
He hands me a stack of papers. “Here are the non-disclosures and insurance papers you requested. All my workers signed them.” I can tell he’s holding back an eye roll, and to be honest, I understand why. But Chris makes everyone who does work for me fill out the stupid papers. “What are you anyway? One of those reality stars or something?” he asks, looking into my two-bedroom garage apartment.
I drop the forms on the entry table. “Or something.”
“That’s cool.” He shrugs, already bored with the notion. “Where do you want us to set up?”
I step out, shutting the door behind me, and lead him to the backyard. The driveway is already filled with catering vans and decorators, and even though it’s just a small party with Chaz’s church lady friends, I wanted to do something nice for her. I owe her that much. “So you guys will be done by 1? It’s a surprise, so I’d like it ready before she gets back from church,” I tell him.
He grins. “You had the funds, I got the manpower.” And with that, he gets to work.
I watch, making sure they don’t do any damage to Chaz’s garden. A few minutes later Robby shows up, his truck loud as it reverses down the driveway. I walk over and inspect the timber loaded in the bed. “It looks good,” I shout while he jumps down from his seat.
