4. Dove
DOVE
I ’d been fully prepared to choke on the dust Josh kicked up in his wake when he high-tailed it out of here the moment he dropped me off yesterday.
With our parent’s funeral done and over with, and the paperwork he was responsible to fill out accessible anywhere with a Wi-Fi connection, there was really no reason for him to stick around.
So, when he didn’t leave that night, I figured he’d planned to grab some shut eye and leave early the next day. When I came down at dawn to find him in his old, worn farming clothes, I’d paused in surprise at the base of the stairs.
Three years might not have seemed like a lot of time to some, but it’d done plenty for Josh.
Where the faded John Deere shirt had once hung off his lean frame, it now stretched across his broad chest, and the old, grease-stained Levi’s he’d needed belts to hold up now fit almost a little too snugly along his thighs and hips.
“’Mornin’,” he greeted in a lazy drawl, sipping at a coffee, leaning causally against the butcher block countertop.
His dark brown hair was unruly, as if he hadn’t bothered to comb through it.
His eyes followed me over the rim of his mug as my hand slipped from the banister, and I padded into the kitchen.
He held a folded-up newspaper in his other hand, likely scanning the funnies section.
It’d been the only interest Josh had ever really taken in the news growing up.
But when I skirted around the kitchen island and reached up to grab my own mug from the cupboard beside him, I peeked over and spied him reading the local news instead.
Leaning across the counter behind his back, my arm extended around him to grab at the half full coffee pot.
I couldn’t stop the subtle inhale I took as I invaded his space.
I went about pouring my coffee, comforted by the scent of him.
At least he smelled the same. A deep, clean woodsy scent.
Josh had always been no-frills kind of guy when it came to that stuff.
I wondered if the familiar smell was because he still purchased and used the same shower products, or because he’d found some of his old stuff lingering in our bathroom.
There was still a small drawer of Josh’s things in there filled with stuff he’d left behind.
I’d never had the heart to clean it out.
Growing up, I’d taken up most of the space in our bathroom, but he’d designated that spot as his, and I’d always respected that.
Even with him gone, it didn’t feel right to take it over.
“I see they’re finally getting rid of the old mill,” he commented offhandedly as I returned the coffee pot to the warmer. “Wonder where the local teens will sneak off to make out once it’s gone.”
Uninterested in his small talk, I padded over to the steel fridge, pulling it open to grab the creamer I liked to use.
Coffee, to me, was a necessity, especially when I was up before the sun, but I certainly didn’t drink it for the taste.
My eyes were drawn to Josh’s mug, noticing how dark the liquid inside it was.
That hadn’t changed, at least. Black, like always. How did he do it?
I tipped a heavy amount of creamer into my cup until the coffee turned a pale color. Placing the container back in the fridge, I swirled the mug around, careful not to slosh it, before taking a tentative sip. I hummed in satisfaction. Hot and delicious.
After taking one more sip, I set it down on the counter and opened the freezer.
I didn’t want to spend any more time in the kitchen than I had to, what with him hovering about, so making a big breakfast was out of the question.
Cool air caressed my arms as I reached in, grabbing the box of frozen waffles from the back.
Most mornings, Mom cooked us up breakfast, but that had waned the farther she’d gotten into her treatment, and I’d grown use to grabbing easy things to scarf down. I didn’t mind much—they were a guilty pleasure of mine—although my mother’s side-eye game was strong whenever she saw me eating them.
I slid to the left, popping two of them into the toaster.
I supposed I could eat them for breakfast every day now if I wished.
There was no one around to chastise me any longer for my poor eating habits.
Forcing the thought away before I teared up, I placed the box back in the freezer.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, wondering if I should offer some to Josh…
I slammed the door closed a little too forcefully.
Tough shit. He could find his own breakfast. He’d been doing it for the past three years just fine. More than fine, considering how built he was.
I peeked through my lashes at him as I waited for my waffles to heat, taking in the size of his biceps. They hadn’t been that big when he’d left, and he’d worked on a farm all his life.
What had he been doing while he was away?
Questions tickled at the back of my throat, begging to be voiced, but I swallowed them down.
I didn’t want to know. I didn’t.
Startling slightly as my waffles popped up, I grabbed at them with a napkin, snatching them up in one hand. I swiped my coffee off the counter with the other as I made my way to the mudroom just off the kitchen.
Mr. Local News could sit there and get caught up with Haven all he wanted. There was plenty of work for the rest of us to get done around here.
My steps faltered.
Me , I mentally corrected myself. Plenty of work for me to get done around here. Suddenly the reality of how much extra work was on my plate hit me.
“Dove,” his deep voice called, still a little scratchy from sleep. “Wait.”
I ignored him, taking a bite out of one of the waffles as I trudged over to the line of shoes arranged just beside the doorway. Setting my coffee on the washer, I slipped my feet into my old farming boots.
He exhaled a sigh of annoyance, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he leaned against the doorframe.
“You can’t do all the work yourself,” he pointed out.
My lips twisted. Watch me.
Putting the waffles in my mouth to hold, I bent to tie my frayed laces.
“Would you stop acting like a brat?” he griped irritably. “You’ve never been one, don’t start now.”
I closed my eyes and released a sharp exhale through my nose.
He was riling me up on purpose because my lack of response was getting to him. He was hoping for one, even if it was in anger. We’d lived together for eight years. As much as he knew me, and he knew me well, he forgot that went both ways.
I wasn’t going to feed into his game.
Maybe it was fueled by my anger, but I wanted him to feel a fraction of all that I’d felt in the past three years. Ignoring him was just the beginning.
I grabbed the waffles out of my mouth as I stood up, flipping my hair out of my face. I leaned over to push the door open before grabbing my coffee and stepping out into the morning air.
The grass was dewy from the rain the night before, the humidity passing with the break of the storm.
The temperature was a touch cooler than normal because of it, and I was thankful for the few mild hours I’d get before the sun rose.
By noon, the sun’s rays would be beating down brutally, and I’d be sweating profusely, no doubt.
I’d enjoy the chill in the air while I could.
The door creaked behind me as Josh followed, but I continued to ignore him, turning to make my way down the steps to start my day.
“Are you planning on ignoring me forever?”
His question hit a nerve in me that had me lashing out, vulnerable and hurt.
“You went three years ignoring me,” I reminded him harshly, still refusing to look in his direction.
I practically stomped down the steps. It wasn’t until my boots hit the ground that I wheeled around to face him.
He stood at the top of the porch, his feet bare against the worn wood, his expression uneasy.
Had he not expected my anger? Or had he hoped I’d just be so happy to see him I’d forget he left at all?
Despite the height difference between us, I drew myself up and sent him my best glare as I responded loftily, “Let’s see if I can beat your record.”
There was plenty more I wished to say, but nothing I’d allow myself to say. So, with those words hanging between us, I stomped off with my meager breakfast and coffee in hand, ready to get my long day started.
No doubt he’d waited to give me some time to cool down, because I didn’t see Josh until I’d finished feeding the chickens and gathering their eggs.
They were pecking away at the ground as I retreated with the handful of eggs I’d collected cradled in my shirt, the hem tucked up to create a protective pouch.
I’d get them cleaned and into a carton, grabbing another coffee while I was in the kitchen before I continued with the rest of my chores for the day.
On my way there, though, Josh rounded the house, carrying filled water buckets at his sides.
His tanned forearms bunched as he carried them steady, not spilling a drop, like there hadn’t been a three-year gap in his history of farm chores.
My gaze caught on the veins, the way they stood out on his forearms, and I noticed how much more muscled they were now than before.
Josh had been just shy of twenty-two when he left, still ungainly tall and lean from the rough work he’d done daily.
I hadn’t realized there had been plenty more time for him to grow up and grow into himself.
My gaze snapped back up as he bent to drop them before righting himself, stopping just short of several feet in front of me.
It was unlikely Josh had grown taller, but somehow it seemed like he had. Maybe it was the bulk he’d acquired since I’d last seen him but standing before me, he seemed massive. I was nowhere near what you’d call short, at five-eight myself, but around Josh, I felt almost… dainty.
Which was not a word anyone would use for me.
We stood there as if in some weird silent shoot out.
His eyes trailed me, as if finally free to take me in.
They started at the top of my head, taking in my dark, messy hair, which I cursed myself at forgetting to brush this morning, before advancing downward.
His eyes met mine briefly before dropping a notch lower, and I licked at my dry lips.
His chest expanded with a breath before his gaze dropped down further.
I knew immediately it’d gone to the thin strip of soft skin displayed above my jeans, where my shirt was pulled up to use as a makeshift basket for the eggs I carried. The urge to suck in my stomach and drop my shirt was strong, but my wish for eggs in the morning was stronger.
Instead, my breath hitched, and the touch that caressed me from his gaze broke away as he averted his eyes.
His voice sounded a touch gruffier than normal when he said, “I’ll handle the horses.”
“No need,” I fired back, curtly. “I was just dropping these off. That’s my next stop.” I made to breeze past him, but he reached out, grabbing my upper arm to stop me.
I froze, his large hand a hot brand along my skin, his proximity like the force of a strong magnet. I wanted nothing more than to give in to it and lean into his touch.
“Dove.” My name came out low, like a warning. “I’m helping you whether you like it or not. This farm is not a one-person job. With my dad gone?—”
His words broke whatever spell his closeness had on me, and I ripped my arm out of his grip, mindful of the eggs.
“I’ll see if I can find a farmhand, then.”
His strong brows drew down. “You’re not hiring a farm hand, not while I’m here.”
I whirled to face him as my eyes narrowed into angry slits.
“Is that what you are, Josh?” I mocked unkindly, my voice laced with hostility. “Here? Why is that exactly? Gareth and Mom are gone. We’ve laid them to rest and said our goodbyes. So why are you still here?”
Hurt flashed across his face, and a small twist of guilt followed the anger that coursed through me. I’d never liked seeing that look on his face. Which only made me angrier. I shouldn’t feel sorry for my anger. Not when it was well deserved.
“We haven’t needed you here since you left,” I snapped cruelly.
The words coming out of my mouth didn’t match the ones in my heart, but I had to protect myself.
I’d never seen him leaving all those years ago coming, and it’d wrecked me.
I couldn’t go through that again. “And I don’t need you now. Just go .”
There was no reason to get use to his company, to rely on him, not when he’d just leave again. Where would I be then? No, it was better this way, to act like he was already gone.
Before I could stomp away, he stepped in front of me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Dove. You just lost your mom.” His words were soft and gentle and open, as if he wanted me to talk to him about it like I once would have. Tears inexplicably rose in my eyes. That was the part that hurt the most. I did want to talk to him.
But that was before he’d left. That was the Josh I thought would never ever hurt me like he had. This Josh—I couldn’t trust him like I once did.
“And you lost your dad,” I countered in a watery voice.
It reminded me that both of us were parentless now.
That we truly had nobody but each other, and that we didn’t even have that.
A stab of something sharp and painful went through my heart, leaving behind a dull ache in my chest. The need to unleash my fear on him grew overwhelming, the words ‘please don’t leave me again’ threatening to spill from my lips as emotion clogged my throat.
This conversation was close to becoming too real, too earnest. I didn’t want to have this talk with him. Hardening my voice, I blinked the tears back. “It doesn’t make the world stop spinning, Josh.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed lightly, his hand cradling my elbow, “but maybe you need a break to process?—”
The tenderness of his touch had prickles of something shooting along my arm.
I shoved past his thick, muscled frame, wanting to escape the conversation and the feel of his skin on mine. It was bringing up too many emotions I was attempting to tamp down. Like how parentless, friendless, and alone , I truly was—like a tiny, insignificant speck existing in a big black void.
Hopeless .
“If you want to help, then help,” I shrugged carelessly, my voice detached, even though the pounding heart in my chest portrayed otherwise. “I’ve got a laundry list of things to do today, and having a heart-to-heart with you isn’t on it.”
When I peeked over my shoulder to make sure he’d heard, a hard glint reflected in his eyes back at me. I nearly stumbled in my haste to turn back around to avoid seeing it. He was mad, but I swore I saw something else lingering under that anger, too.