It wasn’t the dreamless kind of sleep either . . .
A couple summers ago, Josie’s brother was turning twenty-one. Jesse was out of town at some rancher’s convention with his dad and had asked me to tag along with Josie and keep an eye on her. Not because he didn’t trust her—because he was Jesse Walker and he gave trust like it was in limitless supply—but because he knew there’d be alcohol and a bunch of Luke’s frat brothers who had a thing for his little sister. Even if Jesse hadn’t asked me to hang with Josie at the party, I would have. I didn’t trust those U of M frat boys as far as I could throw their hillbilly deluxe trucks.
The party was at Luke’s frat house. After Josie had drained a couple of shots, every time I turned around, some other frat douche was handing her another. I don’t know how many she had total, but I’d counted seven when I finally called bullshit. I shut the music off, climbed up on a table, and warned the next son of a bitch who slipped her a drink that he’d leave there with my boot up his ass. The drinks slowed, but they didn’t stop. Thankfully, she stayed glued to my side unless she had to go to the restroom, which I stood outside of and guarded like a f**king Rottweiler. Luke drank himself into a mini coma halfway into the night, so I was literally the only guy in the room not trying to lure Josie into some dark room. It got old. Fast.
I was about two seconds away from driving my elbow into a guy’s jaw—the one who kept grinding up against Josie when we weren’t anywhere close to the thrown-together dance floor—when Josie threw her arms around my neck, looked up at me with those green eyes of hers, and grinned.
“Ever since that first dance we had back in high school, I’ve always dreamed of dancing with you again.” Before her words had registered, she tucked her head beneath my chin and swayed against me. “Tonight, I finally get to live that dream.”
I’d been conflicted in my life plenty of times and to varying degrees, but that dance with that girl . . . there was no word for how conflicted I felt right then. Conflicted didn’t even come close to describing it. I knew my arms didn’t belong around her, and I knew my body didn’t have a right to respond to her the way it was, but my head and heart never aligned when I was with Josie. I danced with her. That first dance, and a second, and a third. After the fifth one, I lost count. Dance after dance didn’t make it any easier to drop my arms and let her go. She’d wandered into them of her own accord, and I wasn’t sure I could ever let her wander out.
The party was in full swing, and everyone was plastered enough that it wasn’t just a roomful of lowered inhibitions—it was a roomful of no inhibitions. The only thing more on my mind than never letting our dance end was protecting Josie. I was about to finally let her go so I could get her out of there when her mouth moved just outside of my ear.
“Take me home,” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.
Grabbing her hand, I led her out of that frat house, lifted her inside of my truck, and didn’t touch the brake until we were in front of the Gibsons’ house. Her parents were at the same rancher’s convention as the Walkers, but the fact that Josie and I had a big, quiet house all to ourselves wasn’t even on my mind when I helped her through the front door and carried her to her bedroom when she tripped over the first step. The most I’d seen Josie drink was a couple of a beers, and the girl had a low tolerance. Given the number of shots she’d had, it was a miracle she was still able to talk.
After getting her laid out on her bed, I’d told her I would run and grab her some water and pain reliever to help with the morning-after effects. I fumbled through her parents’ medicine cabinet for a while to find what I needed. By the time I returned with the pills and water, I expected her to be passed out and snoring. I certainly didn’t expect to walk in and find her dress on the floor and her standing in front of an open window wearing nothing but her underwear and bra. She held a frame with the picture of her, Jesse, and me as children. Her thumb circled my scowly face. I dropped the glass of water, and it shattered when it hit the floor.
Josie had spun around in surprise, but when she saw it was just me, she smiled. Josie being next to nak*d and smiling at me as the moonlight streamed onto her skin . . . that would have been enough to drop me to my knees if I wasn’t already moving in her direction.
“You dropped something,” she’d said, setting down the picture.
“Joze?” I’d swallowed, knowing I should look away. Knowing but not able to. “Why are you in your underwear?”
My throat had already felt dry, but by the time she stopped in front of me and pressed against my body, it went something else entirely. “I told you. Tonight, I get to live my dream.”
I’d smelled the alcohol on her breath and I saw it blurring her eyes—I knew she was in no condition to make decisions—but when her hands worked the buttons of my shirt loose, I basically said Fuck it, shut my brain off entirely, and went with what my heart and body were telling me to do.
Once she’d peeled off my shirt, Josie unfastened her bra. When she pressed her bare chest into mine, I had to bite my tongue and close my eyes to keep from coming right then and there. I’d been with plenty of women, and plenty of women had shoved their chests up against mine in a similar way, but never, never had I almost fallen apart when one did it. Not that I needed the reminder, but Josie’s touch did things to me I’d never experienced before.
I don’t know who was the first to kiss the other. All I remembered was that when it happened and whoever had made the first move, I knew I wouldn’t make the last one. I wouldn’t be the one to ever stop kissing her because I simply couldn’t. When I laid her back onto her bed, while I was busy unfastening my fly, she slipped out of her panties. Just as I was about to lower myself into her, that picture on her dresser caught my attention. From across the room, a smiling blond boy watched me. I’d muttered a curse, and just as I pulled back, Josie wrapped her arms and legs around me and pulled me to her.
When her eyes locked onto mine, she smiled, then whispered, “Finders keepers.”
Whether it was her h*ps that took me in or my h*ps that took her, I knew one thing—things would never be the same.
They never had been.
THAT WAS THE dream I bolted awake from. While I didn’t consider it a nightmare because of what had happened that night, it became a nightmare when I realized that was possibly the first and the last time I’d experience Josie that way. I’d had that dream before, but until Jesse and Rowen had gotten together, I’d burst awake from it drenched in sweat and guilt.
Before long that night, Josie and I had been digging our fingers into the other’s backs and screaming each other’s names, but unlike Josie—who’d fallen asleep immediately after—sleep never found me. Instead, I went from staring at the girl I’d always wanted and now had to the boy in the photograph. What we’d done that night was the ultimate betrayal. Jesse was a good man, the best man I’d ever known. That he openly admitted to being best friends with the town drunk’s son was something I’d never felt worthy of. That night, I understood why.
I wasn’t worthy of his friendship. I sure as hell wasn’t worthy of the girl lying next to me with a peaceful expression on her face. I’d taken Josie from him, and even though I’d felt exactly that way back in high school when he asked her to Homecoming, I’d never planned on repaying him. Especially not by hav**g s*x with her while he was out of town and he’d asked me to watch out for her.
I’d been worried all night about other guys putting moves on her, but I should have been worried about myself. Mr. Gibson had been right: I was a virus. I didn’t mean to spread my sickness, but I simply couldn’t help it. I’d infected my two best friends in the world that night, and before the sun had risen the next morning, I was on the phone with Jesse explaining what had happened. Of course that did nothing but further alienate me from both of them. I turned into the even-harder shell of a person I’d been until Josie had catapulted back into my life.
History was pretty much repeating itself. I’d moved in on her when she’d been with someone else, giving no thought to what was best for her—only what was best for me. Given the way she looked at me and the intention in her touch, I’d practically convinced her that I was what was best for her, too. But I wasn’t what was best for her. How could I be when the only roof I had over my head was the cab of my old truck? How could I be what was best for her when I didn’t even know what was best for myself? How could I love her the way she deserved to be loved when my parents hadn’t shown me an ounce of it?
The answer to those and the other questions streaming through my head was simple—I couldn’t. That answer made me throw off the covers, jump out of bed, and pull my duffle bag out of the closet. I had to go. It would be hard for her, but unlike me, Josie would recover. She’d dry her eyes one morning and wake up to find the sun a little brighter and her future more hopeful without me in it. She’d live the life I’d always wanted for her. It just wouldn’t be with me.
Stuffing the first thing in my bag was the hardest. Once I got past that, the rest went in quickly. I’d made up my mind. The sooner I was out of there, the easier it would be for both of us to move on. Or in my case, pretend to move on. I was sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on my boots when the doorknob twisted. I froze, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get my heart to follow suit. I needed my heart frozen to say good-bye to Josie. I needed it frozen to make it out that front door and leave her behind. But the instant that door opened and she slipped inside, I knew my fight to freeze anything was over.
She had a playful smile on, and then she saw the full duffle on the bed and the boots in my hand. All playfulness fell from her face, along with the smile. “Where the hell are you going?”
I closed my eyes to keep from having to look into her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m just going.”
“Is this because of something my dad said to you?”
I shook my head once. “No.”
“Is this because of what happened earlier? Are you feeling guilty because I’ve got a little bruise on my face?” Josie was whispering but just barely. If the conversation got any more heated, and I knew it would, she would wake up the whole house soon.
“I’m going because I have to go.”
“No, you don’t,” she snapped.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes, I do. You know it, and now I finally do, too.”
“No, I damn well don’t know that, and you don’t either, Black. So do me a favor and stop playing the martyr.” Her voice wobbled over a few words, but she still sounded more pissed off than anything else.
“Joze, I’m going.” Grabbing a boot, I started sliding my foot into it before she flew across the room, grabbed it, and tossed it into the corner.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
What I wouldn’t have given to have a heart made out of ice so I wouldn’t have to feel the throbbing deep in my chest from the desperate look on her face or the tears about to release from her eyes. I wanted to be a shell of a man. I wanted to be the person I’d always let everyone assume I was. I sprung up and threw my hands behind my head to keep from pulling her close. “Fine, Joze. Fine. Give me one goddamned good reason why I shouldn’t go now. Why I shouldn’t leave now instead of later because you know I’ve got to leave someday. I can’t stay here and pretend you and me are going to live happily ever after. So tell me, how much longer do you want to live this temporary fairy tale? How much longer do you want to keep convincing yourself that you want me for the rest of your life? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk out that door now.”