sheepishly.
“We can eat in the kitchen,” I say, leading the way. I remove plates from the cupboard and set them on the table. “Beer?”
“Sure.” He sets the food down and opens up containers. Garden burgers, fries, wings, ribs, chicken, and a few sides.
“What did you buy? Everything on the menu?” My stomach growls.
“Just what Darren said you like.” I shake my head. He sits opposite me, and I hand him a beer. We eat in silence, casting glances at each other over the food. It isn’t awkward, and some of my annoyance dissipates. We clean up when we’re done; he washes, I dry.
When we’re in the living room, I offer him a seat on the couch.
“I should have called.”
“No shit,” I bite.
“I deserve your anger. I couldn’t believe you were there in the hospital after the accident.”
“I work there.” I fold my arms and refuse to meet his gaze. He chuckles.
“Still, it was nice of you. And that you visited me after.”
“I get it. You’re thankful.”
He lets out a sigh. “I fucking suck at this.”
“Pretty much,” I hiss.
“I haven’t had a serious relationship, not ever. In fact, I can’t say I’ve actually dated anyone.” I look over at him, and I can tell this is hard for him.
“Why not?” I ask more gently.
“Until you, I never thought I needed to.” My heart rate picks up at that admission.
“My mother died when I was eight years old, in our house.” He looks around the room thoughtfully. “She was pregnant with my brother.”
“Oh, Aidan,” I say, turning toward him. My heart aches for the strong man in front of me who looks like a little boy in this moment.
“I survived the fire. She didn’t. Died right out there on that lawn.” He sniffs, and I realize he’s crying. There is nothing more beautiful than a man in touch with his feelings.
“My father was out. My grandmother said he was with his mistress. I don’t know how true that is, but he took his life shortly after.”
I move closer to him. I don’t attempt to touch him. His hand rests on my thigh, and he squeezes it. “I carried that night with me. I refused to let it go, refused to stop blaming myself.”
“You were a boy . . .,” I say softly.
“I know. But I spent my life replaying what I could have done. Maybe if I’d reminded her to blow out the candles, or if I hadn’t complained that I wanted a story.”
“I get that.” I press my lips together. “It’s the kind of thing I tortured myself with after my parents died.”
He turns to me, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I don’t want to live that way anymore. I want to actually live, not just float through life the way I have been. I don’t know what tomorrow brings, and I know that being with me will give you more stress than peace, but if you'll have me—”
I don’t let him finish. Instead, I press my lips to his. This kiss is different from the others. I pour all the empathy I feel for the boy whose world was torn from him, and all the love I know I feel for the man in front of me into it.
“Let’s just start with tonight,” I whisper when we break our kiss.
“I’d like a lot more than that.” He smiles at me, cupping my face with his hands. “I’d like a whole lot more.”
THE END
Acknowledgments
As a writer, I am not alone in my journey to hitting publish. Being full-time employed in the corporate world does not give me enough time to be Jo, the Author. I have to find the time for now, and I am so blessed to have a family behind me every step of the way as I create these words. I have excellent editors (Kim BookJunkie and Candice Royer), proofreaders, cover designers, my review and street teams, bloggers, other authors, promo companies, and a godsend of a PA, Zulfa. They give me so much love and support. I cannot put into words how deeply grateful I am to have you all in my world. I cannot overemphasize my gratitude.
To my readers, your purchase of my work and support is invaluable. I would not be here without each one of you. Every time you read a world I create, we’re together, in that moment and that to me is real magic.
Stephen King captured it best,
“Look- here's a table covered with red cloth. On it is a cage the size of a small fish aquarium. In the cage is a white rabbit with a pink nose and pink-rimmed eyes. On its back, clearly marked in blue ink, is the numeral 8. The most interesting thing here isn't even the carrot-munching rabbit in the cage, but the number on its back. Not a six, not a four, not nineteen-point-five. It's an eight. This is what we're looking at, and we all see it. I didn't tell you. You didn't ask me. I never opened my mouth and you never opened yours. We're not even in the same year together, let alone the same room... except we are together. We are close. We're having a meeting of the minds. We've engaged in an act of telepathy. No mythy-mountain shit; real telepathy.”
With love and light.
Jo
About the Author
Thank you once again for reading my book.
A bit about me, I love good food, and white wine. I’m married and a mommy to humans and fur babies. I am an avid reader turned author. My lifelong love affair with words started from a very young age, with Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. I am great fan of the classics, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, and Ernest Hemingway. My writing is and will always be my ultimate adventure and escape.
To find out more about what I write visit my website: www.joannejosephauthor.com
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Feel free to contact me on social media. I love hearing from my readers. You’ll also catch me in Jo’s Romance Queens.
Also by Jo-Anne Joseph
Contemporary Romance Novels
Infinity
Destiny
Samsara (PNR)
Honor
Kiss and Tell
Psychological/ Dark Romance Novels
Siren
Anonymous
Under My Skin
Romantic Suspense Novels
Mariticide Book 1 in the Deliverance Series
Misandry Book 2 in the Deliverance Series
Inexorable (Standalone Book 12 in the Cavalieri Della Morte Series)
Ember: A Driven World Novel – COMING JANUARY 2021
Riven: A Salvation Society Novel – COMING FEBRUARY 2021
Novellas
Serendipity
Inevitably Yours
The Cure
Oblation
Under the Mistletoe COMING DECEMBER 2020
Anthologies
Footprints on the Heart: A Remembrance Anthology (Poetry and Prose)