Dove

19. Josh #2

“I was hoping to get my first kiss today,” Dove confided instead, pouting dejectedly.

I glanced down at her. She was wide awake, her eyes bright and alert, gazing up at me.

“You already had your first kiss,” I reminded her, trying to keep the agitation out of my voice. Finding her with that farm hand had riled me up something fierce. She was worth more than a romp in a barn.

“First second kiss,” she amended, sounding more sober than she had a moment ago. She shifted in my arms, straightening so she could look up at me properly. “Would you be my first second kiss, Josh?”

Everywhere we touched sparked hot, like twin coals in a fire. It had to be the alcohol talking—right? But when she pressed herself tighter against me and whispered a breathy, “please,” I lost it.

I walked her backward until her lower back hit the railing, her lips shiny and inviting in the low light. I groaned, pulling her closer.

When I leaned in, the alcohol was obvious on her breath, and there was an unmistakable, unfocused look to her eyes. The reality hit me like a freight train—Dove didn’t want this. Didn’t want me.

Not like I wanted her.

She was drunk and eighteen and high on celebrating a huge milestone in her life.

I ran my thumb over her bottom lip, the closest I would ever come to it, then pushed myself away from her gently.

“Let’s get you up to bed.”

She looked ready to protest but I silenced her.

“We can talk about it later,” I lied. “But you need to sleep this off first.”

She nodded in acquiescence, leaning into me again, her face nuzzling into the crook of my neck.

“Okay, Josh,” she agreed sleepily.

Just like that, crisis averted.

Yet I remained caught in the tendrils of her sweet scent and the almost-taste of her kiss, something nuclear happening within me.

When Dove was safely deposited in her bed, conked out and snoring, I made my way back downstairs.

There was no way I was going to sleep any time soon, not when the faint smell of strawberries lingered on my vibrating skin.

One by one I turned the lights off downstairs until the only light remaining was the one on outside. I stepped back out onto the porch, taking a deep breath of fresh air—only to catch the faintest whiff of strawberries.

My dick twitched in interest as a shiver ran through me, and I plopped down heavily onto the porch swing, taking up my vigil once more, at least now with the knowledge Dove was upstairs sleeping safely.

But with about a hundred more worries than I’d had before.

Would she remember?

My teeth gnawed at my bottom lip. Would she wake up with hazy memories or clear ones? Would she look at me in disgust or confusion? Would she?—

The door creaking open to my right had my head turning.

Confusion flickered through me as my father stepped out onto the porch in his sleep shirt and plaid pajama pants, arms crossed over his chest.

“She’s home,” I reassured him quietly. “She’s upstairs sleeping.”

He nodded once but stayed where he was.

An anxious feeling flickered to life in the pit of my stomach.

“You look just like her, you know,” my dad mused, his focus out on the driveway.

He was talking about my mother. And yes, I knew.

I’d only ever seen pictures of her, but even as a baby we looked identical. As I grew older, it became clear I was the spitting image of her—only in male form.

“I came down to get a glass of water for Josie.”

The nerves rolling in my stomach turned into a stone of dread.

Finally, my father faced me, the set of his face harsh in the yellow lighting of the porchlight. Where Dove had looked beautiful in its soft glow, my father looked stern and unforgiving.

Somehow, I knew this was not going to end well.

“I saw you kiss her.”

No , I thought wearily, this was not going to end well at all.

I remained silent. It was no use arguing with my father, even if what he thought he saw was wrong. Well, mostly wrong.

“ How dare you ,” my father’s voice trembled with anger, straining to keep his voice low.

I knew that as the sign he wanted to yell at me but was restraining himself. Likely not to wake Josie or Dove.

“If you can’t keep those disgusting feelings to yourself, you need to leave.”

My heart ached hearing him call my feelings for Dove disgusting. To hear the words from someone other than myself.

Nothing about them felt disgusting, not when she was so beautiful and bright, but they were. I knew they were.

“I won’t lose another woman because of you.” The sharpness to his voice cut me to the bone. “And I won’t let you ruin that innocent girl with your perversions .” He spat the word.

Words bubbled up in the back of my throat, the anger and pain that always simmered beneath my skin around him threatening to explode out of me.

I didn’t mean to take Mom from you , I wanted to scream.

I’m sorry, I wanted to yell.

I wish it had been me instead, I wanted to cry.

But I swallowed them down.

It didn’t matter anyway. When Gareth Hex made his mind up on something, that was it. It was why our relationship was as strained as it was.

He believed I’d killed his wife—that I was to blame for why she wasn’t here with him any longer.

I guess in a way I was.

This was just another thing to add to the list of why my father hated me.

The man before me visibly shook with fury. “Well?” he demanded, voice rising, his control slipping. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked, resigned.

He barked a low laugh, harsh and humorless. “You could at least try and deny it.”

Defend myself? What would be the point?

My lip curled into a twist. “You saw it with your own two eyes,” I replied lazily, my chest hollow. “How can I deny that?”

His eyes blazed. “Get out.”

I looked up at him in shock. “What?”

“Leave. I want you gone and out of here by morning.” He turned to leave, opening the screen door. “If you’re still here when I wake up, I’ll throw you out myself.”

I stood up, panic and fear gripping me. He wouldn’t really…

“Wait, Dad?—”

“Don’t,” the man who was supposed to be my father interjected coldly. “You know, I always wondered why I couldn’t bond with you. I always thought it was because of Ceclia. Because in her place I was given you, and I never thought it was a fair trade.”

The harshness of his words shouldn’t have hurt, not when I already suspected as much, but it lanced through me like a spear regardless.

“Now I know it’s because something wasn’t right with you.” The disgust on his face and in his words had me stepping back as if he’d slapped me. The man in front of me was unrecognizable in his coldness.

“Gone by morning,” Gareth ordered as the screen door slammed behind him, not bothering to look back. “No later.”

My heart ripped apart inside of me, not just for the home or father I’d lost.

But for Dove.

Fuck.

How was I supposed to explain this to her?

I was quiet as a church mouse packing my things.

It wasn’t like I had a lot.

I was downstairs, grabbing myself a quick bite to eat before I left, the sun not even a thought in the sky, when I heard the stairs creak.

I froze. The unmistakable shuffle of feet hit my ears, and I turned to peek over my shoulder.

Dove stood there, her hair in disarray with the clothes she’d worn for graduation sleep rumpled and wrinkled.

“What are you doing up, Dove?”

She startled and squinted, as if even the darkness was too bright for her to handle.

“Josh?” she croaked. “What are you doing in the dark?”

“Just grabbing a midnight snack.”

She chuckled, taking a few more steps into the kitchen. I flipped the light switch by the sink, the lightbulb over it flickering on as her bare feet slapped against the floor. “It’s definitely past midnight.”

Her voice still held a bit of slur to the words, as if the alcohol hadn’t fully let its hold up on her.

My heart pounded in my chest, looking for any sign of recognition of what happened between us earlier. But as she passed me to get to the fridge, opening up the door to peer inside, I saw no remembrance on her face.

Good. That fixed one problem.

I still had another problem, but as long as she went back upstairs it wouldn’t be too hard to handle.

Sneaking out under her nose was terrible. It was horrible.

But it was necessary. If she truly didn’t remember me almost kissing her…

How did I explain to her why I was leaving? That in her vulnerable drunk state I nearly took advantage of her… and my dad saw it?

There weren’t words for the shame that burned through me.

No. It was better this way.

I took another bite of my sandwich, watching her crack open a water bottle and guzzle it greedily. I knew all about that post-drinking thirst, and it had completely slipped my mind to leave her out a water and some pain meds.

Before I could think better of it the words were out of my mouth. “Sorry.”

She let out a small gasp for air as she finished the water off, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “For what?”

“I should have set you out a water bottle and something for that headache that's brewing.”

She blinked, as if the thought didn’t compute. “Did you take me upstairs?” Her face scrunched as if she was thinking hard. “I think I remember that…”

I didn’t want her digging too much into the memory, so I cleared my throat. “Yes, I stayed up waiting. When you stumbled out of God knows whose truck, I made sure you got upstairs safely.” I paused. “Josie has no idea.” About the drinking, I didn’t say.

She let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Josh.” She lifted the empty bottle in her hands. “And nothing a short walk to the kitchen can’t fix.”

I looked her over, noticing how tired she looked.

“How you feelin’?”

“Head is throbbing, and I think it might not have been a good idea to chug that water.” She clenched at her stomach. “My stomach doesn’t feel so good.”

I tsked and shook my head, reaching up to our medicine cabinet to get some pills for her. I placed them in her hand and opened the fridge behind her, grabbing another water bottle.

“Take these,” I instructed, placing two little pills in her palm. “And sip this slowly.” I cracked the cap and handed her the water after she tipped back the pills and swallowed them dry. I shuddered. I had no idea how she did that.

She took a small sip, and I put the lid back on.

Sadness enveloped me as I realized this might be the last time I’d see Dove for a while. Might be the last time I speak to her…

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about it.

My dad was a man of little words, but his threats were not to be taken lightly.

If he wanted me gone, it meant he wanted me gone .

There would be no outside contact with Dove, not while she was under his roof, at least. He’d want no reason for Josie to pack them both up and run far away from his “perverse” son.

I didn’t want the wrath of my father to fall on Dove in my absence.

I’d stay away from her.

Unable to stop myself, I kissed the top of her head and murmured, “Go back to bed, little dove. That should help you feel better when you wake up.”

“Mkay,” she yawned wide around the word.

My heart ached as she padded away, taking a piece of me with her I would never be able to bring with me. That part of me belonged to her permanently.

She stopped just outside the kitchen, then turned back to me and smiled softly. “Night, Josh.”

In that small snippet of time, I attempted to memorize her smile, as it was likely the last one I’d ever see from her.

When she turned back to leave, something caught her eye and she froze, her gaze fixed to the front door.

I cursed softly just as she spun around with wide eyes.

“Why’s your duffle bag down here?” The sleep had left her voice entirely.

Her head pinged back and forth from the luggage to me, as if trying to connect the dots. When I stayed silent, she took a few tentative steps back into the kitchen, worry written all over her face.

I wiped the crumbs from my hand and threw away the paper plate I’d been using. I grabbed myself a water from the fridge and took a long swig.

“Go back to bed,” I ordered once I was done. The dryness in my mouth persisted.

“Josh,” she pleaded. “What’s going on?”

I flipped off the kitchen light as I left, ignoring her questions as I passed her.

My heart broke with each word out of her mouth.

“Wait,” she begged. I grabbed for my bag at the same time she grabbed for me.

“ Josh ,” her voice held a note of panic this time. “Are you staying over at Eddie’s? Did you and Gareth fight?” She asked the last question with hope, as if it was something that simple.

She knew I would often escape to Eddie’s if Gareth pushed me too far. But I had an extra set of clothes there already; I didn’t need a packed bag for that.

I shook her off my arm, the action near painful at the stricken look on her face. “Don’t, Dove. Go back to bed.”

When I walked out the door, she followed.

“Was it because of me? Because I came in late? If it was, I’m sorry. I can talk to Gareth in the morning,” she begged, as if it was that simple.

With my heart breaking into more pieces than I could ever possibly put back together, I stomped off the porch toward my truck, ignoring her trailing behind me like a lost little puppy.

She kept calling my name, loud enough I was worried she’d wake Josie, or worse, draw the attention of my father. I turned back only to see her wincing as she crossed the gravel barefoot.

“Dove,” I barked, emotions pitching my voice overly loud, scared and sad and worried she’d hurt herself all rolled into one.

I was a swirl of emotions in a hollowing shell, like one of those tornados in a jar.

“Get back in the house. Go back to bed.” The words left my lips robotically, repeating the only thing I could think to say.

“Tell me where you’re going,” she wailed, tears falling as I tossed my duffle into the bed of the truck carelessly, the meager contents inside worthless to me when I was leaving the only thing that mattered behind.

I yanked the driver's side door open, dodging her grasping hands as she tried desperately to stop me, and slid behind the wheel. I slammed the door, careful not to catch her fingers, and jammed the lock. She tugged at the handle, but it didn’t budge.

Through the glass her voice came, muffled and frantic: “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on! ?”

Because I don’t want to see the disgust in your eyes, too .

All I saw in the rearview mirror was the pure, unadulterated sorrow in her eyes as I drove away. It took everything in me to tear my gaze from that haunting image—and never look back.