“What?” I asked. “Where was her mother?”
“Dead,” Josh said. “Overdosed.”
“Ohmygod," I whispered.
“I’m not going to talk details, love. To put it simply… he showed up with a baby and left not too much later after that. I don't think he even had a second of desire to stay. Or to raise Delaney. Or to raise me. And when he left, he was gone for good. See, that house I used to mess with, that was his house. He met a woman who changed his life. And he started taking care of her kids. He loved her kids. He raised her kids. They were a happy family. Yet he left a family behind. One that he wanted nothing to do with. One that ended up whittled down to just me.”
Josh took a drink and rubbed his jaw. He stretched his neck and walked to the drawing I commented on. With his pointer finger, he traced lines around the drawing. I was addicted to him. Every aspect. The man. The artist. The person who was hurt. And the memory of the boy who protected me.
“Josh,” I said as I stood up. “What happened?”
“Cancer,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Amelia, you know that kids get cancer, right?”
I swallowed hard. “I know that, Josh.”
“Well… that's what happened. There was more than that. Some issues passed along from her mother. But it all just… it just attacked her body. She was there. And then she wasn't. It was so fast. I mean, you know, maybe a year or so. But still. The fastest year of my life. With doctors. Appointments. Medicines. Treatments. Hospitals. Special centers. It was…” Josh made a fist and gently tapped the drawing. “It just didn’t matter. It wasn't enough.”
I inched toward him and reached for his arm.
I skipped it though and did something else.
I slipped my hand into his.
I held his hand, like we used to do.
“She was three,” I whispered to Josh.
“That’s right. I used to get up with her in the middle of the night. Give her bottles and everything. And even when she was sick, I was there. I missed a ton of school but that was okay. I didn't care. I needed to be there with her. Except, I wasn’t… when she…”
“Where were you?” I asked.
“I got drunk and high with Murph,” Josh said. “It was right when I started hanging with them. When Delaney got sick, I got angry. So angry. I started to go looking for fights. Looking for ways to relieve the anger. I couldn’t stand seeing my grandmother upset. Seeing her shaking. It was all falling apart right in front of me. It was horrible to watch.”
I squeezed his hand tighter. “I’m so sorry, Josh. That does nothing for you. But I have to say it.”
“I was out one night, and Delaney let go. She was never afraid of dying though. She kept telling me she was going to fly.”
Fly, baby, fly.
The words echoed and made my heart twist.
“She always said that,” Josh said. “She was going to fly. I was so drunk that night. And stoned. And then I went home, and my grandmother told me what happened. She refused to use the word dead. Or died. She just told people that Delaney went to fly. And then the house was suddenly quiet. Empty. My grandmother getting worse. And…”
Josh choked on his words.
He looked down at my hand holding his.
He smiled.
“Then there was you, love,” he whispered. “This beautiful girl out of nowhere always pulling me back from the fire.”
“Josh, what you did for me…”
He lifted our hands and kissed the back of mine.
He pulled his hand free and walked away.
I watched as he threw the bottle back and chugged the rest of his beer.
He placed the bottle on the counter and went to the fridge for another one.
He stood with his back to me.
My mouth started to run dry. I ached for him. In so many ways.
“You saved my life," I said. “What you did for me. You saved me. Even though things didn't work out. And I understand why they didn't work out. I loved you, Josh.”
“That fixes nothing,” he said.
My lip curled.
I moved across the cool, hard floor of the apartment with a purpose.
I thought about grabbing his shoulder and trying to turn him around. But that wouldn't work. Josh was too big and strong. But I hated to feel weak. I wasn’t weak.
At the last second, I made my move.
I jumped on his back.
Josh barely moved.
He reached forward and put his beer down.
“Amelia…”
“Shut up,” I growled. “I’m so sorry for what you lost. And what you went through. And what happened to you. It’s not right. It’s not right at all.” I slid my right hand down his chest. “But I’m here. I’m here, Josh.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into here,” he said. “The story never ends.”
“It’s not supposed to. We’re still writing it.”
“Don’t get all cliché on me, love. It's only going to piss me off.”
I hung from Josh’s back in a playful and flirty way. But the feeling of my legs around him, the pulsing ache between my legs controlling my thoughts, I was in big trouble.
“Then maybe you should make me be quiet,” I said.
That was just as cliché as the other thing I said.
Josh stepped back until my ass hit the counter. He bent his knees and made me sit on it. He unlocked my grip on his shoulder and chest.
He spun around and faced me.
Without hesitation, he cupped my face with his strong and protective hands.
My hands touched his hands.
I lost my breath.
My lips parted, looking for air.
Josh
