I closed my eyes, my self-recrimination at boiling point. “Dex … it’s your dad you need to worry about. Not me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I … just know that he would never hurt me or mess me around. What’s happening or not happening, however, is between me and him. I appreciate you’re okay about everything but I can’t discuss this with you.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Then, “Ry … okay. Fine. But try not to hurt my old man. He’s the best fucking guy there is and if Shaw’s right about how he feels about you … yeah … shit, just let him down easy.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks as a reply got choked up in my throat.
Shaw’s voice was gentle in my ears now. “I love you, Ry, whatever you do, I’m here. I know whatever is holding you back isn’t about what other people think because you’ve never cared what other people think. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
“Shaw,” I whispered brokenly. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing him.”
“Oh, Ry,” understanding filled her voice. “It is scary to love someone that much. We know that better than anyone. But you know what’s scarier … regret. Looking back on your life, safe but lonely, and wishing you hadn’t let fear win.”
Chapter 7
RYAN
After returning to my bedroom in the cabin, I’d heard Joe’s arrival. I’d heard him pottering about in the kitchen and at one point heard his voice murmuring, so knew he had to be talking to someone on the phone.
I wondered if it was Dex.
The hours passed like days as I watched the clock on my phone tick toward midnight.
Toward the new year.
Every time I looked at the bed, images of Joe straining above me filled my head.
I kept hearing him telling me he loved me.
It seemed like a miracle that Joe Colchester was in love with me.
It was my wildest fantasy come true and I’d spit all over it.
Shaw’s wise words haunted me throughout the day.
The fact that my sister had guessed I was in love with Joe before I even realized I was would have been funny if the whole situation didn’t feel so tragic.
“But it doesn’t have to be tragic,” I whispered to myself.
If I let go of my fear, or at least tried to overcome it, I could make me and Joe so happy.
And Shaw was right. I didn’t care what people would say or think about us. Not as long as we loved each other.
But what about when you lose him?
The thought filled me with agony.
Yet… wasn’t I already in pain? Was losing him any worse than pushing him away?
No.
The thought of never touching Joe again or tasting his kiss or feeling him move inside me made me feel like the world was ending.
“You have to try,” I whispered.
I had to try.
And I couldn’t let Joe go on thinking I didn’t love him just to protect myself.
Decision made, I pushed up out of the chair in the room just as the clock was nearing twenty minutes to midnight. My belly grumbled with hunger as my heart pounded in my chest.
Joe sat on the sofa, a glass filled with beer in one hand, while he stared in a trance at the flickering fire.
I could feel myself losing my nerve just at the mere sight of him, even as I wanted to lie my body atop his. A foil covered plate on the island caught my attention and I moved toward it. Stalling.
Beneath it was a roast beef dinner. Joe had cooked. I knew that because the smell from earlier had given me hunger pains.
“That’s yours.”
I startled at his voice. He stared blankly at me. “Thank you.”
He lifted his chin and turned back to the fire.
Hungry and nervous, I sat down at the island to eat. But after a few forkfuls, my nerves got the better of me. Pushing the plate away, I was readying myself to talk when he spoke first.
“Is it Dex? Because I spoke to him today and he’s okay with the idea of us.”
I spun around to face Joe.
His expression was still hard and defiant. His walls were still halfway up even though he was trying to understand me.
“It’s not Dex.”
“The age gap? You worried about what people will think? That I’m a dirty fucker going after a woman almost half my age?”
“I don’t care what people will think. And you’re not a dirty fucker, so don’t call yourself that. You’re forty, Joe, not eighty. And I’m twenty-four, not some innocent eighteen-year-old.”
His lips twitched at that but then pinched into a straight line before he muttered, “So you just don’t feel about me the way I feel about you?”
“You scare me,” I blurted out.
Joe’s eyes flashed dangerously. “What?”
At his biting tone, I shook my head. “Not like that. God, never like that. In fact, I’ve never felt safer with someone in my life. You’re what home should feel like.”