“I’m eighteen. All of those places are off the table. It’s done, Brianna. Let it go.”
Let it go? LetJoshgo? I didn’t know how to do that.
I took in a deep breath and gazed at him. If he wanted to keep the asshole mask on until he left, I’d let him. I knew who was really behind it, no matter how much he huffed and sneered at me.
“So, you aren’t even going to call me?” I crossed my arms and inched closer.
“I doubt I can have a phone at boot camp.” Josh spit his words at me, but didn’t back away.
“Then write me. You know, once they let you hold sharp objects again.”
Josh looked away, but not before I caught the hint of a smile. “Still looking to torture me with more writing.”
“Maybe.” A sad smile curved my lips. “You know you want to see how my book ends. Remember that summer I stayed at my grandparents’ upstate and we wrote every week? You probably couldn’t write every week, but maybe sometimes . . .”
I hated leaving Josh that summer, and he knew it. When I received that first letter in the mail, I ran my finger along the grooves his handwriting made into the paper and pretended that he wasn’t three hours away. I was overjoyed to still have a piece of him with me. I was as pathetic now as I was back then, but I still had to try.
I kissed his cheek and let out a long sigh as everything about him filled my senses. I took in his strong jaw, just inches away from his full lips. He was my beautiful, troubled boy. I cupped his cheek and noted his sharp gasp as my hand drifted down his face. He bit his lip as his gaze softened. Our eyes locked as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. The air between us was heavy with love and regret. For one brief second, Josh allowed the fear and the hurt he buried deep inside to flash on his beautiful face. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but it closed and flattened to a hard line. He planted a quick kiss on my forehead before he jerked away.
“Look, I have to go.” He turned to walk back up his steps. I zoned in on the back of his head, and did my damnedest to pretend I’d see him tomorrow. I tried with everything I had not to feel the finality and sadness that grew with every step he took toward his door. Even though he was still in my line of sight, the distance between us was already miles wide. He reached for his screen door and stilled.
“Do us both a favor,” he called to me without turning around. “Just move on. Go to prom, go to college, have a good life without me around to ruin it for you.” He craned his head, the hard edges of his face softening for a moment as his eyes met mine.
“Forget about me, Cupcake.”
Josh ~ Present day
I DIDN’T GETnervous; at least, not that I’d let anyone see. Not when I took on guys twice my size in school for saying shit about my father, not when I enlisted in the military to avoid jail, and not when training pushed my every limit and made me dread opening my eyes each day. But now, standing in front of the door of the only girl I ever loved, the one I hadn’t seen in almost ten years—thatscared the shit out of me.
I told her to forget about me, but she never did. Fuck knows I could never forget her. We wrote letters a few times a month for the years I was away. Just as we did for our entire lives, we told each other everything—but always seemed to skate around one detail. Was she with anyone? I never had the balls to come out and ask, and neither of us volunteered anything. I exhaled and wiped the sweat off my brow as my boots crunched the brittle yellow leaves leading to her door. If she was, she was. I wanted her to have a good life. She deserved that. She was sweet and innocent but always stuck up for my sorry ass and looked out for me since we were kids. At the end of every dark and terrible day, she was my bright spot. All these years later, that’s how I still thought of her. My light out of the darkness.
This was always my plan. Once I finished active duty and served the rest of my time in the Army, I’d get on my own two feet, come back, and finally make her mine. As much as I wanted her to wait for me, I couldn’t make that request. I was a bastard of a kid, but not cruel, especially not to her. How could I be? Her goodbye embrace and kiss on my cheek got me through all these years. If she was taken, I’d have to hold on to that for a little longer—like forever.
Jesus H, Josh. Pull your panties up and just knock on the damn door.
“Just a minute!” Twenty-eight-year-old Brianna Morgan sounded as sweet as the seventeen-year-old version. I’d bet she was still as beautiful, too. I shut my eyes and wiped my sweaty tattooed hand on my black jeans. Could I get a fucking grip? I didn’t even know when the door opened.
“Josh? Oh my God!” Brianna covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes growing saucer wide. “Is it . . .” I laughed to myself as she looked me up and down. She gulped as her jaw quivered. “Is it really you?”
My eyes drank her in as I held in a sigh. Grown up Brianna Morgan wasn’t only beautiful, she was breathtaking.
“Hi, Cupcake.”
Brianna threw her arms around my neck and tackled me with a hug. I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her up by the waist. I buried my head in her neck while she squealed. I was home—back home with my girl—and I didn’t want to put her down. The familiar vanilla scent filled my senses. Everything about her was always so damn sweet. I set her back on her feet, her glossy eyes roaming my face as she beamed at me.
“But . . .” Brianna blinked and shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “I just heard from you last week. You didn’t say anything—”
I kept my hands on her tiny waist. “I wanted to surprise you. Uncle Billy is opening that second shop after all, and he sent me back here to run it.” After the military, I worked for my uncle’s custom bike shop. I mentioned in my last letter he was tinkering with opening a store in New York, but I never said anything about possibly moving back to run it.
“I can’t believe it.” Brianna framed my face, her shaky hands pressing into my cheeks as if she were afraid I would disappear again. Warmth flooded my chest at the joy on her face. “Come in.” She pulled me inside and shut the door behind me.
I gazed around her apartment. She had a small eat-in kitchen, a love seat instead of a couch in the middle of her living room, and my heart sank into my stomach when I met the gaze of the guy sitting on it.
“I’m Scott.” He strutted over to me with an extended hand. “You must be Josh. The old best friend from the letters. Nice to finally meet you. I didn’t know people actually wrote letters anymore.” He snickered as he looked between us. I plastered on a big smile to hide my disappointment. I’d hoped, but hadn’t expected her to be alone.
“That’s me. I guess we’re different.” I’d gotten so used to sending letters that it never occurred to me to switch to email like the rest of the twenty-first century. Brianna suggested phone calls a few times, but I always made up an excuse. Hearing each other’s voices before we were ready, or beforeIwas ready, would have done more harm than good to both of us. Letters kept us close in a special way but allowed me a comfortable distance. I could tell this guy wouldn’t understand that, and I didn’t feel the slightest need to explain. That was my piece of Brianna no one would touch.
“Nice to meet you. I hope I didn’t interrupt your night—”
