He didn’t argue. Didn’t disagree.
The silence stretched again until he stood, dusting off his hands.
I knew Alex was right to enjoy the sight, because if I were him, I’d probably enjoy watching me fall apart too.
Alex didn’t even make it ten steps before turning back around; of course he didn’t. He stopped at the edge of the field, hands shoved into his pockets, the winter air catching on his breath.
He looked at me.
“Joshua Maxine Lockhart,” he said quietly, almost like a secret, “cold-ass bastard, likes a soft, sweet girl and fumbled.”
I didn’t move.
Didn’t even blink.
Just let the words hang there, cold and heavy in the air, because what the fuck was I supposed to say?
Alex raised a brow, waiting for me to bite back, to throw one of my usual cold replies.
But there was nothing left to throw. I just looked down at my hands, the same hands that aimed too high, pushed too far, hurt too deep. The same hands that tried to pull her out of the water like I could save her from me.
Cold-ass bastard?
Yeah.
That fits.
Because that’s exactly what I was, cold enough to drive away the only warmth that ever wanted to stay.
And she was soft.
Too soft for me.
The kind of soft that didn’t bend around the edges of a guy like me; it broke against them.
I clenched my jaw, exhaled through my nose.
Then I couldn’t feel his presence anymore; he walked off. And I sat there, the echo of his words wrapping around me like punishment—
Joshua Maxine Lockhart.
Cold-ass bastard.
And yeah, maybe I did like a soft, sweet girl. But I didn’t just fumble her. I fucking dropped her and watched her hit the ground.
I didn’t like anyone. Not once. Not ever. People were loud, messy, temporary, and I learnt early that if you didn’t let them in, they couldn’t leave and take pieces of you with them.
So I didn’t.
I had Alex.
That was enough.
A brother, not by blood but by the same fucked-up understanding of how the world worked. And Jennie, only when Alex dragged her along. She was tolerable, kind in a way I didn’t hate.
But Aurora…
God.
