A Thousand Glittering Lights

Chapter 11

They spentthe rest of the day working in her vegetable garden. He’d asked her what she wanted, and this was what she wanted.

If he was going to disappear, she wanted some time with him first. Time when they could both relax. And she wanted to share this special place—a place she’d never shared with anyone before. Most of the men she’d dated had been firmly rooted in the city; even Vic had barely taken a glance—but it was one of her favorite places in the world.

A small courtyard of stone walls formed the perfect suntrap. Tomatoes, peas, and zucchini were planted in neat rows. Runner beans climbed frames alongside a wall of lettuce growing in vertical hanging planters. Strawberries were just starting to show fruit in the baskets she had placed in every free corner.

When she was stuck, when she needed to think, this was where she went. Something about working with her hands outside in the fresh air gave her the mental space she needed. And it didn’t hurt that she could eat the results later.

Josh clearly loved being outdoors. There were a few slightly strained moments at first when she passed him tools or he started working on something new, when he seemed to falter. His expression got a little more closed, and he’d rub the back of his neck or scratch his thumb through his beard, looking like he’d never seen a garden tool before. But after a few seconds, he would take whatever she’d handed him, test the grip a few times, and carry on. And over time, it seemed to come easier, until the lines of tension around his mouth softened and the shadows in his eyes seemed to lighten.

After an hour of companionable side-by-side digging and planting, Nissy came out to join them. She padded over, getting under Ellie where she kneeled beside a bed of beetroot, bumping Ellie’s chin with the top of her head and purring softly.

Ellie pulled her glove off and stroked her soft fur, crooning quietly. “Hey, pretty girl. My beautiful Nissy.” Nissy stepped delicately back and forth, rubbing herself on Ellie’s arms, her tail high and swaying as she walked.

Josh looked up from the hole he was digging. His shoulders were relaxed, his lips turning up into a smile. “Missy? Is that her name?”

Ellie chuckled. “No, her name is Niss, but I call her Nissy.”

Josh blinked at her a few times and then he threw back his head and laughed. “You called her Cat-Niss.”

It was glorious. Magical. He’d been so stoic and so shuttered that she hadn’t imagined it was even possible for him to laugh like that. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, I did.” And her own lips twitched into a huge grin, until she was also laughing, laughing just from the joy of seeing him so free.

By the time they settled, Ellie’s cheeks ached from smiling, and she returned to her work feeling somehow lighter than ever before.

As the shadows lengthened and evening approached, Josh leaned back on his heels, eyes closed. A bird sang nearby, trilling and warbling, whistling and gurgling, and Ellie stopped to listen. “It’s so lovely,” she murmured. “I wish I knew what bird it was.”

“He’s a nightingale,” Josh replied.

Ellie stretched out her legs as she began packing up. “Don’t they sing at night?”

“Not always. The male is looking for a mate and marking his territory. He’ll sing during the day sometimes while he’s focused on that.” Josh dusted his hands on his jeans and stood. “They’ll be together for a handful of months, and then they’ll move on. He’ll go back to singing in the night by the end of summer.”

A shaft of something—not pain, not envy, but something—struck her. Josh had been clear that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent from her either. Maybe he would stay for a while, but then he would be gone. Whatever happened—whether he was real, a fantasy, or some kind of spirit—he had no plans to stay. By the end of summer, she’d be alone once more too.

Would it be enough? No. Almost certainly not. There would be a price to pay for afternoons like the one they’d shared.

She rested back on her heels and watched him. His face was turned up toward the clear, pale blue of the late afternoon sky. Perhaps watching for the nightingale. Perhaps enjoying the wisps of cloud lit up in peach and orange from the sinking sun. His lips settled into an almost smile, and it held her captivated. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed at peace.

And she knew she would pay the price in the end, if that’s what it took.

She pushed herself up to stand beside him. “Thanks for helping. I couldn’t have done this on my own.” It was true. Together, they’d done all the clearing and planting she’d put off for weeks.

“You’re welcome. I needed that more than I realized.” He wiped a bead of sweat away with the back of his forearm, and his T-shirt rode up, revealing a muscular abdomen with a smattering of dark hair that she longed to run her fingers down.

“How are you holding up?” she asked instead.

He dropped his hand and looked at her with a serious—yet slightly bemused—expression. As if he wasn’t used to being asked how he was. Perhaps the people in his life were used to his brooding or the innate competence he exuded and didn’t think to check if he needed help.

“I wish I remembered more,” he admitted. “I don’t like feeling out of control.”

She stepped closer and rested her hand on his forearm. “I feel the same about being out of control. I think that’s part of what made recovering from my accident so difficult.” She squeezed his arm gently. “I can’t even imagine how much worse it is for you.”

He didn’t reply. Didn’t admit to the depth of how terrible it must be for him—or deny it. But he didn’t move either, and they stood together in the cooling air for long moments before Ellie led the way back inside. Josh cleaned up while she packed away the gardening tools, and then she took a quick shower and threw on yoga pants and a soft cotton T-shirt while he warmed up some lasagna from a batch she’d frozen.

He complimented her on the aroma—which she could admit was delicious, thick with tomato and herbs and rich with cheese—but he still seemed vaguely disturbed by the idea of eating. Instead, he drank some ice water while she ate, and they chatted about books they’d read and movies they’d seen.

And all the while, their hands brushed and their gazes met. She was aware of him. Of his presence.

They moved to the living room to sit on the sofa, and her legs pressed against his. His warmth spread through her thin leggings, and when she moved, he grunted. A sound that traveled right through to her most primal senses.

They decided to watch a film, and when she stretched over him to reach for the television remote, his hand settled on her waist, so hot and compelling that she couldn’t help but turn to look at him. She was almost straddling him, her face close enough to his to feel his breath.

She held herself over him, drinking in the way his pupils flared and his fingers tightened on her waist. And then, when the torture of being so close and not quite touching grew too much, she dipped her face to his and kissed him.

His mouth sealed over hers, and his hands dragged her closer, pulling her down to meet the heavy bulge in his jeans, hard and straining and impossible to miss.

He lifted the hem of her shirt, his fingers gliding around her waist to settle on her back while his other hand cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer, angling her to taste her again and again.

He kissed her like she was a siren who had called to him for hours and he had battled through the oceans to reach. And she felt like perhaps she could be. As if she was beautiful and wanted and worthy of risking the sharp danger of the surrounding rocks. And even when they broke apart, both breathing hard, both flushed and slightly dazed, the feeling stayed.

She leaned back, turning on the movie they’d chosen, but he kept her legs across his thighs, rubbing her feet while they watched whatever was on—she was too focused on him to notice—and then he leaned over and kissed her again until they forgot the film entirely.

They made out like teenagers, until their lips were swollen and their hair disheveled and she had beard burn down the side of her neck.

And neither of them brought up anything about the future, or Josh’s past.

She didn’t even realize that she’d eventually nodded off until she woke up in his arms halfway up the stairs. He lowered her gently onto her bed and helped her strip down to her T-shirt, then after her mumbled insistence, climbed up beside her and pulled a blanket over the top of them both.

She woke up during the night wrapped in his arms. His jeans were rough on the back of her legs, his hand warm where it rested against her breasts. His breathing was slow and deep, and she closed her eyes, settling into sleep once more.

But when she woke in the morning, he was gone.