My heart beats triple-time. His stare is hot against my skin, wildfire on a blazing summer day.
The light turns green, and he takes off, back to focusing on the road as though he didn’t just set my whole body aflame. We don’t say anything for a minute. As the silence stretches, thoughts of Henry resurface. His face in his hands when we walked away. Shoulders slumped forward, like all the life had been drained from him.
I rub my lips together, smoothing my hand over the bottom of my dress. “What happened with you and Henry?”
He keeps his attention fixed ahead. Quiet. Thoughtful. And soon ... angry.
“You don’t have to tell me Henry’s story. I get that it’s his business. But can you tell me why you’re so upset?”
My pulse thumps as I wait for him to respond, wondering if he even will. Sometimes I want so desperately for him to share himself with me, it feels like a tiny piece of us crumbles and falls away whenever he chooses not to.
“Talk to me,” I whisper. “Please.”
He swings his eyes my way, and they soften. Gently, he pulls my hand to his mouth. Tingles flit through my fingers when he trails his lips over my knuckles.
“That woman was his wife.”
I nod slowly. “I heard that part. Are you okay?”
“Just can’t understand it, I guess.” His voice fades, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I know it’s not my business, and maybe it doesn’t matter if I get it or not”—he shakes his head, releasing my hand to rub the back of his neck—“but how can it be okay to abandon your family? Your own damnfamily. Hell, I don’t even want to understand that. I hope I never do.”
Bitterness flashes across his features, heavy and dark. It colors the air around us, making me shift in my seat to refrain from reaching for him again. I don’t want to scare him away. But I know he’s thinking of his dad, and it breaks my heart.
We pull onto our dark, dimly lit street, and he parks at the curb. He doesn’t turn off the engine or move to get out. He just stares out the window.
I barely hear him when he mutters hoarsely, “What makes it so damn easy for them to leave us anyway?”
God, the ache in his voice. My fingers twitch with the urge to soothe him; reassure him it’s not his fault. “Maybe ... maybe it’s more complicated than it seems.”
“How? What’s so complicated about choosing to stay?”
Tucking my hands under my thighs, I murmur what my mom once told me when I asked about my own dad. “Most of the time, when someone hurts us, it has nothing to do with us.” I lift a shoulder, picturing Mom’s sad eyes when she spoke these words. “All we can do is try not to let it define us.”
He kills the engine and yanks the keys from the ignition. His movements are tense, waves of heat vibrating off him. “Yeah, well. When you’ve fathered someone and made vows, that should be a pretty good reason to stop and think about the other people involved more than yourself.”
Hanging his head, he rubs his eyes as if he can rub the bitterness away.
I wish it were so easy.
I know what it’s like to feel abandoned by a parent, but mine came back for me. Mine tries every day to give me what he didn’t during my childhood. Joshua’s dad, he comes back into his life only to walk away all over again.
“I’m sorry he left,” I whisper. It’s all I can give him, words, but I hope he feels how much I mean them. “I’m so sorry.”
His gaze floats to mine, and I swallow.
Sitting this close, watching him under the dark night sky, his exhaustion hits me like a train at full speed. The usual hard angles of his face are sharper. His tousled hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. Faint shadows highlight the space under his eyes. I know he’s upset right now, but this is more than that. Something’s burning him out enough to leave a physical mark.
Clearing my throat, I look away. “Joshua ... was everything really okay with Principal Lori? I mean, you’re not falling behind or anything, are you?”
Pushing out a breath, he scrubs a hand down his face before meeting my eyes. “Nah, it’ll be fine.”
“Itwillbe?”
“A little stressed, but my workload’s always pretty heavy.” He shrugs. “Nothing I can’t handle. Once I nail that essay for Principal Lori, I’ll be set.” Shooting me a cocky, panty-melting half-smile, he adds, “I’m a beast with a pen and paper.”
I can’t help but chuckle—his playful side is too disarming. But I’m still not reassured. “You’d tell me if I was distracting you too much though? Holding you back?”
“Hey,”—he lifts my chin so I meet his eyes—“you’re not holding me back. That’d be impossible. I just gotta find a new balance. Trust me, hippie.” His voice lowers, deep and rough, dipping into parts of me only he can reach. “You’re worth figuring it out for. You know that, right?”
