7. Dove
DOVE
A s if I were a teenager all over again, I felt haunted by Josh’s presence.
It had been a week, and he was still here.
Each morning, I woke surprised to see his car in the driveway—though a tiny piece of me (okay, maybe more than a tiny piece) was relieved by that.
Coming down the steps in the morning and spying Josh resting lazily against the kitchen counter with a fresh mug of coffee, the haze of sleep slowly escaping his eyes with each sip, was a welcome one, even if it did have my stomach flipping every time he greeted me with that drowsy smile of his.
He’d left without so much as a goodbye. I reminded myself of that each time my fluttering heart betrayed me at the sight of his half-hidden smile behind his favorite chipped blue mug.
The very one that had stayed tucked back into the corner of the cabinet for three years, untouched.
Now he was back, causally using that mug as if he’d never been gone, without so much as an explanation as to why.
Beyond the obvious, of course. He wouldn’t even be here if our parents hadn’t died.
Harsh, but true. Our parents had been laid to rest. So, what was he sticking around for?
Unless—
The thought that he was staying for me …
No. I wouldn’t allow myself to fall back into the maddening spiral of some stupid teenage crush.
Three years hung between us, filled with silence and distance and betrayal —at least on my end.
It should have been enough to have me curling my lip up at him, chasing him off the property.
Yet a week was all it took for the feelings I’d buried in his absence to rise up within me, like he’d never left at all.
I found myself aware of his every move, even when we didn’t cross paths, considering I made sure we worked separately around the farm.
He’d taken my cold shoulder seriously, something he’s never done in the past. Anytime I was angry, he gave me space and time to process it, but he always came to me first: with a joke to crack the harsh set of my mouth, a peace offering that softened the hard glint in my eyes, or even just a hug when he knew I needed it most. Right now, my anger was fiery and hostile, wholly directed at him, and I’d kept him at arm’s length for a very valid reason.
But I hadn’t expected him to maintain that distance.
An even bigger part of me was hurt by it.
The horses grazed idly out in the pasture while I mucked their stalls, enjoying the beautiful day as I freshened their water and tidied up their spaces.
It was a daily chore I could do with my eyes closed or while my thoughts wandered, which meant I had plenty of time to think of a certain dark-haired, broad-chested someone.
By the time I was done, their spaces smelled fresh with the scent of clean hay, and my pockets were loaded with forgotten sugar cubes I’d used to lure them outside.
Wiping at my sweaty brow, my aching feet shuffled along the packed dirt floor as I made my way out of the stable, intent on finding myself a cold drink and a bite to eat.
Glancing up at the sun as I stepped out, my eyes squinted involuntary against its glare only to find it lower in the sky than I anticipated. Past lunch time, then. Perhaps my thoughts had distracted me just a tiny bit more than I’d thought, considering it had taken me longer than it normally did.
I couldn’t stop the sweep of my eyes over the sprawl of land, admiring the green, vibrant landscape. Maybe searching for someone in particular. Since I’d been stuck in the stables for most of the morning, I wasn’t sure what Josh had gotten up to.
Distracted by thoughts of him, and fueled by a vocal stomach, my feet took me in the direction of the house on muscle memory.
With one last searching scan of the horizon, my head turned to follow just a second before my cheek collided with a wall of something solid and warm.
Dull pain radiated across my cheek as the air in my lungs rushed out of me in a breathy whoosh .
A large, roughened hand wrapped around my bicep, steadying me.
“Sorry,” came the familiar cadence of Josh’s deep drawl. “Didn’t see you comin’ around the corner.” His hand slipped off my arm a second later, and I shivered at the absent caress. Despite the heat of the day, goosebumps broke over my flesh.
“You okay?” he asked, concerned. His eyes roamed over my face until his gaze focused on the cheek I’d smacked against his chest. The hand he’d touched me with seconds before lifted in an aborted movement before falling back to his side.
The faint smell of sweat and his distinct, masculine bodywash lingered in my nose, as if clinging to me from the contact, making it hard for me to answer him. I simply nodded at his question, my hand rubbing along the patch of skin on my arm where it tingled, his phantom touch remaining.
Josh shifted awkwardly on his feet, clad in faded blue jeans and a ragged shirt sporting the mascot from our old high school. Another borrowed item from years past, gauging by the tightness of the fabric stretched across his chest. It certainly hadn’t fit him like that when he’d been a teenager.
I licked at my suddenly dry lips and forced myself to focus on what occupied his other hand—a plate of food.
He’d brought me lunch. Again.
“You didn’t come in to eat,” Josh spoke in the silence between us, his voice slightly accusing. The again hung unspoken at the end of his sentence.
Yeah, I’d lost track of time again . I was notorious for that, and since Josh left, it’d only gotten worse.
I rarely had a schedule. Before the day began, I’d make a loose list of what needed to get done during the day, but breaks weren’t usually factored in, for no other reason other than I just got swept up in the endless work around the farm.
It was easy to get consumed by everything that needed to be done, what with Josh’s absence, and Gareth focusing on my mom’s health in the last year.
Someone had to prioritize the farm. If that meant I sacrificed a lunch or two—or most of them—well, with the extra padding around my thighs, hips, and waist, I wasn’t in danger of starving to death anytime soon.
“So, I brought it to you,” he prompted when I didn’t say anything, or reach for it.
He held out his offering, the plate filled with what looked like an egg salad sandwich and cut up apple slices. The green skin hinted at it being a Granny Smith, my favorite. A little too sweet for some people’s taste, but I loved them. My heart gave a little flutter in my chest that he remembered.
As if the presence of food had summoned it, my stomach grumbled audibly between us. I glared down at it.
Traitor.
Josh’s husky laughter had my empty stomach somersaulting. If my hand shook slightly as I reached out to grab the plate, I blamed it on low blood sugar.
Brushing a few sweaty strands of hair that had escaped my ponytail out of my face, I dipped my chin and murmured, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, little dove.”
The rumble of his smooth voice and the nickname along with it had me glancing down, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush spreading across my cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on us.
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped reflexively, but it lacked heat.
Secretly, I loved it. The only other person to use that term of endearment had been my dad, but for some reason, I’d never minded that Josh had taken up the use of the nickname.
It made me feel happy and safe when he used it, just like how I remembered feeling with my dad.
It just didn’t feel right to hear Josh call me that now. Not when the feeling didn’t line up with reality. That safe, happy bubble I’d been in had been popped, the use of that nickname vanishing right along with it.
The skin of the apple crunched under my teeth as I took a fierce bite, pushing those thoughts out of my head. I was enough of an emotional wreck this week, the last thing I needed to be doing was reminiscing about my dad. It would only leave me melancholy and nostalgic.
My hopes that accepting the plate of food would cause Josh to scram were squashed when he remained in front of me, as if waiting to see me take a bite of the sandwich with his own two eyes before he’d leave.
I wanted to roll my own at his overbearingness.
Although I often forgot to break for lunch, I wasn’t in the game of refusing to eat good food.
Flavor burst on my tongue the moment I bit into it.
Despite being a simple enough sandwich, I couldn’t help as my eyes slipped shut and a little appreciative groan left me, like it was the best fucking thing I’d tasted all day.
Because it was. Actually, it was the only thing I’d tasted all day.
Besides coffee, that is. I’d skipped breakfast this morning, because Josh had been lingering in the kitchen with an apprehensive look in his eyes I recognized as his tell for wanting to talk.
I’d booked it out of there so fast after pouring my coffee that I’d neglected to tie my boots, only realizing it when I nearly tripped down the porch steps—and managing to catch myself before faceplanting in the gravel.
I’d also forgot to put creamer in my coffee and forced myself to choke it down black because I refused to go back into the kitchen where Josh was lurking.
A throat cleared awkwardly, and my eyes flew back open as I remembered where I was—and who I was in front of. I flushed, my cheeks no doubt turning an unflattering shade of pink, but I hid it behind another bite of delicious sandwich.
Good food just had that kind of power, you know? I might have been busy on the farm, but that meant I burned a lot of calories. This girl could eat . There were plenty of times over the years I’d out-eaten local boys at food competitions in town.
“How’d you learn to cook so good?” I accused, taking another famished bite.