She could sense Josh next to her. He was a big guy, she let herself realize. Not overweight, but tall, with broad shoulders. She imagined he’d need the strength for his work as a contractor. She remembered what he’d said about her being his first crush, wondered why she’d never thought about him that way. She opened her eyes, saw he was leaning back as she was, hands behind his head. He’d been so easy to talk to, all those years ago. Like a sounding board. She’d rant about her parents, her friends back home, whatever guy she was currently obsessed with.
And yet, a crush. Did he still have one? It had been more than twenty years. He’d become a man, had a wife, a son. Been widowed.
“You know I came here to Dahlia because I hit rock bottom.” The words were out before she could help herself, but once they were she felt better. Bolder. Stronger.
He opened his eyes, nodded slowly. “I wondered.”
“It wasn’t good.” She hesitated. “I’d been in the hospital.”
He kept his eyes on her. “You don’t have to tell me.”
But she wanted to, found herself opening up like the old days, telling him about Peter, Alyssa, the Bannister Group.
“I’d taken too many pills. I didn’t think I was trying to kill myself, didn’t mean to, but looking back, I think that’s exactly what I was trying to do. Take away the pain. Escape. Whatever you want to call it.” A lump settled in her throat, and she swallowed, gazing out at the town, at the little sparkles of streetlight making the whole square look magical, almost like fairy lights. “I felt like I’d lost everything. They’d been my world, and I was cast aside like an afterthought.”
She felt rather than saw him reach over, his skin warm as he folded his larger palm over her hand. A shiver ran through her.
“You’re no afterthought.” His words were soft, and she had to strain to hear him.
Turning her head, she realized how close his face was to hers. How close his lips were. It would be so easy to move her own head a fraction of an inch, turn her face up to his. To lose herself in the tumble of romance and feeling.
But this was Josh. And then what?
His eyes were locked on hers, and her heart thudded so loudly she thought he could hear it. Their fingers laced, tighter now. She wanted to kiss him, she realized, wanted to take that tumble. Felt herself leaning in, felt the heady fall begin to take over.
But she put a hand on his chest.
I can’t.
“Josh—I...” She didn’t even have the words. Gently, she pushed him back, slid her hand from his. Scooted back so she could turn and face him. Put some distance between them.
He nodded, but not before she saw a flash of disappointment.
“I—It’s just too soon, after …”
“It’s okay, Becks. I understand.”
She looked at him. “You do?”
She knit her fingers in her lap. Her left hand felt cold without his, solitary. Her heart was still hammering against her chest.
“I do.” He gave a small smile. “I’m also remarkably patient.”
Something about the way he said it gave her a little thrill, as if her insides had gone from solid to liquid in an instant.
A soft female laugh glided across the air, and they turned to see a couple, hand in hand, strolling across the grass, lost in each other. They were young, and Rebecca couldn’t tell in the darkness, but she thought it might be Tiff and the kid from Smathers Grocery. The couple walked on by, their progress painfully slow. After what feltlike hours, they were far off, down the street, their laughter an echo on the summer air.
“Thanks for trusting me.” His voice was quiet.
She gave a wry smile. “Thanks for listening. I know I walk a good game, like I’ve got it all together, but some days that hospital room feels like yesterday. I’m a long way off from ‘normal.’”
“Normal’s overrated. And you’re stronger than you think you are, Becks.”
She could see he believed that, and looking back at him, she believed it, too. In that moment, he reminded her of Devon. Devon looked at her the same way. Like he had utter faith in her character, like he knew she was bigger than the image she projected or even the job she did. She had more to offer than skills and marketability—Ed Bannister’s word. She thought of her former boss, of his grizzled sideburns and cynical grin, and for the first time in months smiled at the memory instead of winced. They’d been friends, the two of them, in spite of what had happened with her job. That was worth holding onto.
Suddenly Josh was on his feet, tugging her up. “Come on. Race you back to the cars?”
She beat him by a good three yards, smacking her hands down on her car hood in victory.
