A thousand answers rushed in, none of them safe.
I swallowed. “Yeah,” I said, voice almost lost under the hum of the heater. “Yeah, I think it is.”
He crouched again, this time closer, his knees bracketing my legs. “You think or you know?”
The old panic shot through me—fight or flight, all my bones screaming at once. I tried to lean away, but the bed frame had me pinned.
“I don’t—” The words splintered, caught in the web of shame that Harley had left behind. My chest seized, and I looked away, blinking hard. “I don’t know if I’m any good at it. I tried, once. Back in Portland. It got… it got fucked up.”
His jaw flexed, a twitch at the corner that made him look almost angry. “You talking about Westbrook?”
I felt the color drain out of my face. “How do you know about him?”
“Because Knox told me. Because I’ve got ears. Because you called me once, and I heard the fear in your voice.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I didn’t call anyone, that it was just a bad night and a bottle of whiskey and a mistake. But the lie wouldn’t fit my mouth.
He leaned in, lowering his voice until it was just a growl in my ear. “He hurt you.”
My mouth went dry. “Yeah. He did.”
Josiah’s hands curled into fists, the tendons on his forearms going taut. “If I ever see him in this valley, I’ll kill him.”
There was a part of me that wanted to laugh, wanted to say “get in line.” But all I could do was let my head drop forward, forehead knocking against his knee.
He didn’t flinch. “That’s not what this is, Bo. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to keep you.”
It hit me in the gut—harder than any punch I’d ever taken. “Why?” I mumbled, lips against the denim of his jeans.
He paused, a long moment where I felt his hand hover above my neck, then settle, careful, on the back of my head. “Because you let yourself be seen. Because you belong to someone, even ifyou don’t know how to say it. Because I can take it, and I want to.”
I felt the first prickle of tears, stupid and hot, behind my eyes. I clenched my jaw, determined not to let them fall.
He gave my hair a gentle tug, enough to lift my chin. “Look at me.”
I did.
He searched my face, scanning for something. When he found it, his expression softened, lines easing at the corners. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
He let go, stood up, and turned to the window. The room went silent, the air heavy with everything left unsaid. I stayed on the floor, letting the words settle over me, weighing each one until it pressed out the last of my fear.
For the first time in years, I felt a flicker of something that might have been hope.
Jo didn't move for a long time. He stood at the window, arms crossed, the city lights painting the edge of his face with shards of orange and blue. I sat where he left me, heart pounding against the insides of my knees, trying to make sense of what I’d just said and if he’d actually heard me.
Then he turned, slow and deliberate, and crossed the room to where I sat. He lowered himself to one knee, so close the lamp behind him set fire to the rim of his hair and lit up the broken-down contours of my face.
His hand found my jaw, gentle but not hesitant, and I almost flinched out of habit—except he didn’t squeeze, didn’t force. Just cupped my chin and thumbed a slow arc along the fresh welt under my eye.
His fingers were rough, but the touch was like static—electric, alive, nothing like the dead weight of Harley’s hands when he’d wanted to prove a point. Jo was careful, almostreverent, and I realized I was shaking just from the effort of holding still.
He studied the bruise, then met my eyes, and for a second I thought I’d say something funny, something to break the tension, but he beat me to it.
“I would never hurt you like he did,” he said. “Dominance doesn’t mean cruelty.”
The words landed with a force I couldn’t describe. My whole body seemed to rearrange itself, like I was bracing for a blow that never came. I breathed out, slow, and didn’t realize until then that I’d been holding it. I leaned into his palm, just a fraction, and saw the way his mouth softened at the edges, like he was proud of me for letting him.
He brushed my cheek with his thumb again, even lighter this time. “You okay?”
