“No. Hanna is. She had Rowan while my dad was still with my mom.”
“Oh.” Joss winces. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
“It is what it is. I got Rowan out of it.”
“You’re close?”
“Sometimes. You have a sister, right?”
“Marie. We don’t talk much at the moment.”
His face clouds with the same pain I saw the last time his family came up. I left it then, because I couldn’t fuckin’ fathom how much I’d come to care about him in such a short time. But it’s not in me to leave it now. “What happened?”
“With my sister?”
“With anything. I’m a good listener if you wanna talk.”
Joss has a smile that’s a shadow. I don’t see it often, but his lips twist with it now, and the force of it makes me reach for him before I catch myself and slug his arm instead.
“Wanna get some air?”
He shrugs. “All right, mate.”
I lead him away from the family gallery and to the patio doors in the palatial kitchen. They open onto a deck that could house every table and chair in V&V. I head straight for the outdoor bar and find a couple of beers.
Joss takes his and eyes the bottle. “I don’t drink much.”
“Meds?”
“Yeah. And I have terrible impulse control, so I don’t need my inhibitions lowered.”
The shadowy smile is still there. I take a seat on a wooden lounger. I incline my head toward the one beside it, and Joss folds his long body opposite me. He’s wearing shorts again, and I could stare at his legs for days. He has pale skin, but he’s already caught a tan from the Vermont sun, despite the fact that he spends most of his time inside. “What else?”
He tips his head. “What do you mean?”
I lean back, stretching my arms over my head. “Feels like there’s something you’re holding back.”
“Mind reader, are ya?”
“Hell no. Talking is good, though, man. I’d be dead if Tanner hadn’t made me do it when it was the last thing I wanted.”
“You weren’t a talker before?”
“Course I was. That’s the point. I forgotwhoI was for a while. I’m still workin’ on remembering.”
Joss’s real smile manifests. “Can’t speak for anyone who knows you better, but I’d say you’re a pretty good human as you are right now.”
“Just pretty good?”
“Or justpretty.” His gaze smoulders for a heart-flipping moment before he seems to rein himself in.
Is it wrong to hope he’s as churned up about kissing me as I am about kissing him? To hope I’m not just another guy to him when he’llalwaysbe my first?
Unwillingly, I think about kissing other dudes.Anydudes that aren’t him. None come to mind. Why would they, when Joss is right here in front of me, nudging my foot with his because I’ve zoned the fuck out?
I focus on the literal words he said, because I want to. “You think I’m pretty?”
“The prettiest. I don’t put my lips on just anyone, you know.”
