Dove

27. Josh

JOSH

A s the day of the strawberry festival neared, I waited for a sign that Dove had any hint about my plan, thinking for sure Reverie had blown my cover, but she’d assured me Dove hadn’t mentioned anything about it after they’d rescued us from the side of the road.

I wasn’t entirely worried about Dove’s inquisition so much as I was Reverie’s big mouth, but she promised she hadn’t said anything else about it and Dove hadn’t asked.

Although I knew her well, Dove was a steel trap when it came to certain things, so all I could do was hope I had the element of surprise. I couldn’t explain how I craved her shock, how much I wanted to watch as her eyes lit up and a sweet, pleased smile stretched across that pretty face.

My surprise, for all that it was thoughtful, wasn’t big or flashy, but Dove wasn’t that kind of girl.

In the past she’d always been happy keeping things quiet and low-key, even for birthdays, so I had an inkling she would love what I had planned.

There was no doubt in my mind she deserved it and more, and I’d spend the rest of my life showing her how much she meant to me.

Although we were moving past it, my absence remained a hollow pit in my stomach.

I couldn’t erase the years I’d been gone, or what they’d done to her, but I could make sure she never had to endure feeling that way again.

Stepping out of my truck, I ran my hands through my shorter hair, hearing an echo of Reverie’s chastising voice to leave it alone.

I’d stopped by to iron out some of the details for tomorrow and to make sure Rev made good on her promise to keep her lips sealed.

When I was about to leave, she stopped me, and with a flourish of her hand directed me to sit down in her chair.

When I’d asked her why, she told me she wasn’t going to let her best friend date someone who looked like a vagabond.

My hair was hardly long enough for the insult, but I sat down without argument, knowing she had a point.

It had grown long over my ears and started curling around the nape of my neck, which made working outdoors ten times hotter, especially with the relentless, blistering sun beating down on me.

So, I let her drape a cape over my shoulders, and when she asked me how I wanted it cut, I’d answered without thinking. Whatever you think Dove would like.

She’d just smirked at my answer and picked up her scissors. Rev might be a lot of things—loud, wild, extra —but she was also talented. I knew I was in good hands.

But as I closed the truck door behind me with a slam, knowing Dove would hear I was back, I still worried she might not like it.

Did she prefer me with longer hair? She seemed to like my beard, which is why I kept it trimmed down instead of shaving it off altogether.

Maybe she wouldn’t like the shorter look, although Rev had made sure to keep it longer on top, like how I’d worn it when I was younger.

Similar to how it was when I still lived at home.

I couldn’t believe I was nervous about something as simple as a haircut. There wasn’t a reason for it. If Dove didn’t like it, I’d just grow it back out, but that rational thought didn’t stop the nerves tightening in my stomach as I wondered what Dove would think when she saw me.

Shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, I climbed the steps to the porch, thinking Dove might have gone inside for a late lunch when I heard the shuffle of feet behind me followed by a soft meow.

Dove rounded the garage, wiping her hands, Omen following close behind her.

Her hands were streaked with something dark, and a few loose strands of hair had fallen out of her usual bun, indicating she’d been working on something.

She laughed as he rubbed against her legs, nearly tripping her, and my breath caught as the sun illuminated her.

She never looked more gorgeous than when she was laughing.

She noticed my parked truck and her eyes scanned for me until they finally locked onto where I stood on the porch.

Her baby blues widened, and she stopped abruptly, causing Omen to mew in protest when she nearly stepped on him.

Something fluttered deep in my chest at her reaction, and my hand lifted, wanting to rub the foreign feeling away, but instead I ran my fingers through my hair again, an anxious habit.

Her eyes tracked the movement, and as if beckoned by it, she stalked over, climbing the porch steps until she was only an arm’s length away from me.

Breathing was a forgotten concept as she assessed my new cut, eyes flickering over me from top to bottom.

Who needed air, anyway? What I really needed was some indication that I hadn’t made a horrible mistake.

Her lengthy, assessing gaze formed fire in my lungs, but it wasn’t until a slow smile spread across her face that I drew a breath.

I hoped my relieved inhale wasn’t too obvious.

“Nice haircut. Very handsome.” Her compliment sounded genuine yet flirty.

The clear approval in her voice had the nerves coiled tightly in my stomach loosening.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to see Rev,” she accused.

She finished wiping her hands as best she could and tucked the rag into her back pocket.

“I need a trim bad; I could have gone with you.”

She closed the space between us, allowing her hands to trail from my shoulders up to the nape of my neck, where she petted the newly shorn hair there. The scratch of her nails against my scalp had my eyes fighting to remain open.

“Your hair’s perfect,” I corrected, wrapping my arms around her waist to tug her closer.

I always wanted her closer, couldn’t get her close enough .

“And it was kinda spur of the moment.” The lie tasted sour on my tongue, but it was for a greater purpose.

I couldn’t exactly tell her why I was really at Reverie’s, not without spoiling my surprise.

“It still needs a trim,” she argued.

She pivoted, taking a few steps back and pulling me along with her until she settled down onto the porch swing in front of me.

When I remained standing, she patted the seat beside her.

The swing groaned under my added weight as I joined her, and I worried this thing was on its last legs.

It’d been here since before I was born, my dad having installed it for my mom when she moved in with him as a belated wedding present.

Dove kept one foot planted on the floor to gently rock us, and the swing creaked annoyingly with the motion. I added it to my list of things to do around here.

“So, why the haircut?” she asked curiously, leaning against my side.

I lifted my arm, wrapping it around her shoulders so she could snuggle into me. So many times we’d sat on this swing together through the years, but never like this.

The view of the farm from this spot wasn’t any different than I’d seen a hundred times before, but in this moment it seemed sweeter.

And I could tell you why. Everything with Dove was better.

The sky was bluer, the air was crisper, the sun was brighter, the grass was greener.

The farm I’d hated growing up on had become tolerable with her presence, but for the first time in my life I didn’t feel dread when I looked upon it.

If anything, I suddenly wanted this life with a ferocity that scared me.

I couldn’t really tell her why so I went with, “I wanted to look good when we go into town.”

“For the festival?”

When I nodded, she stiffened under my arm.

“Like a date?” Something in her voice sounded off. I looked down to read her expression, but she was looking away from me.

Worry jammed its way through me like a steel fence post. Even though when I’d asked if she wanted to go she didn’t give me an answer, I just assumed she would because we always had in the past. The three years I’d been gone crept up on me again, reminding me a lot of things had changed since then. Maybe this was one of them.

Not only that, my unhelpful mind supplied a little too late, but she just lost Josie.

Maybe she wasn’t ready for the collective fussing of the town, to be the sole subject of everyone’s gaze.

We’d endured it for the funeral, but that was a somber, rainy, miserable day, where people’s condolences, while sincere, were rushed at best. I’d stood behind her that whole time like a protective stone gargoyle, watching as the tension grew in her spine with each hour that passed, wishing there was something I could do to ease it.

She’d hated it then, but it would be worse now.

We both knew more than anyone what parading around Haven would be like.

We’d experienced it at Dell’s. I’d experienced it at Rodney’s.

They meant well, but the sympathies and pity got old.

Sometimes the best thing to do was move on, and we couldn’t do that when the town remained interested in our woes.

It was one of the reasons I’d pulled Eddie aside during the funeral and asked him to spread the word that we wanted privacy in our time of grief.

In a town as small as this one, we’d have had people showing up left and right to deliver food and sympathies—ready to talk our ears off about how our parents had touched their lives and would be sorely missed.

Something neither Dove nor me needed at the moment.

Especially now that we were—well. I wasn’t entirely sure together was the right word, but I was hoping it was leading down that road for us.

“Yeah, baby,” I answered softly. “Like a date.” When she didn’t say anything, I hastily added, “We don’t have to go.”

“No, I want to.” She relaxed under my arm. “I’m just surprised you want to.”

I frowned. “I always went before.”

She turned her gaze up to look at me and rolled her eyes playfully. “Only because I begged you to.”

“Not only .”

She grinned as if that answer amused her. “Okay, why else, then?”

“I also went for the pie.”

She laughed, and I couldn’t help but chuckle along with her.

Omen hopped up on the railing in front of us, eying the porch swing warily as it creaked back and forth.

This was one of the many spots he loved to sleep in around the farm.

Dove called to him, patting her thigh invitingly, and he shifted his paws before pouncing, landing softly in her lap.

He settled, curling up into a ball and closing his eyes.

She traced her fingers through his black fur, and he purred contently.

“I guess I just didn’t expect us to go...” she hesitated, and the second of doubt that passed clearly over her features killed me, because I’d created it. “Together.” Her eyes remained focused on the dozing cat in her lap.

“What?” We always went together before.

A cold realization washed over me. Maybe she didn’t want to go with me.

She’d asked if Reverie was going, after all.

Maybe she preferred to go with her best friend instead of her stepbrother-cum—whatever we were calling us now.

Boyfriend and girlfriend sounded too juvenile for what pounded fiercely in my chest, trapped somewhere behind my ribcage, for Dove, but I’d wear that label proudly if she’d let me.

“We don’t have to go together if you don’t want to,” I suggested, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. I attempted to keep the hurt out of my words.

“No!” Omen startled at her adamant reply, mewing grumpily. “No,” she repeated, quieter. “I do. I mean, I want to.”

I wavered, still confused as to why she’d think I wouldn’t want to go with her, that I wouldn’t want her to go with me .

“You know if we arrive together the town won’t think anything of it.

We can just go and have fun like we used to—that’s all.

Nothing more. No one has to know we’re going as a couple. ”

She continued to pet Omen softly, her gaze trained anywhere but at me. I hated that I had no idea what she was thinking. I hated that it happened more often than not, now.

“I think it’s more because I do want to go with you like that,” she admitted in a whisper. “So badly I can barely stand it. I always have.”

Her admission had my heart thumping so hard against my ribcage I was afraid it would burst right out of my chest and land at her feet.

“I want to hold your hand or kiss you without the town condemning us for it.” She looked up at me, eyes glassy with emotion. “I want more with you, Josh. That’s the problem. But… I also don’t want what I know comes with that. I’m afraid of what comes after.”

“I understand.” I squeezed her closer to me.

“Nothing’s conventional about this, Dove.

I want to do those things with you, too, but it’s okay not to be ready for that.

” I could give a shit what this town thought of me, but I wouldn’t let their judgment fall on her shoulders just because of our feelings.

Plus, the longer I stayed here with her, the more I realized I wanted to be here, if that’s what she wanted.

Causing a scandal was the last thing we needed.

Whenever we decided to reveal who we really were to each other, I wanted it to be on our terms. We controlled the narrative.

Not the town gossips. “I told you we can take this at our own speed. Together or separate, we’ll have fun.

” Especially for what I had planned after. Screw the fucking festival.

“Let’s go together.” She winced. “Not together, together .” She turned sorrowful, pleading eyes on me. “Not yet, but one day.”

Instead of answering, I leaned down and planted a kiss on her lips, which were red from biting them in worry, to reassure her I understood. One day sounded like the best kind of promise. But until that day, I was fine having her all to myself.

I liked it that way.