Chapter 10
TEN
COLBY
The bright cedarwood ceiling in my bedroom is staring back at me, judging me.
I heard Josie get up and tiptoe around the house.
And as quietly as I’m sure she tried to be, even Kona, under her pain meds and antibiotic fog, heard her.
Not that Josie was loud, at all, but living in total solitude for six years, then having another body here is jarring for anyone.
I calmed Kona from wanting to go inspect and calmed myself for not wanting to face what I’d done.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. I heard Josie shut the front door, heard her start the car, can hear her now out there, scraping something as her car runs. And the kind, honorable, decent thing to do would be to go outside, help her with whatever she’s doing, and bring her a hot coffee.
But instead, I’m lying in my bed like a chump. My stomach knots, my heart aches, and my brain is fatigued from not shutting off the entire night. “Ugh.” I shimmy down the bed and tug the comforter over my face.
Last night was good. Amazing, actually. A tension release, a memory release, and something in me stirred to life.
Last night, after so many years, I felt feminine and sexy and wanted.
After all these years, I had no idea how good it would feel to orgasm with someone else, and not alone.
Being touched, touching, kissing, everything felt wonderful.
My skin is still flushed with desire, a sort of lust hangover, and I both want to totally forget what happened, and run out there and do it again in the cushioning snow.
I had no idea how much I’d been missing touch over the years, and Josie filled that void. It was so messy and hot and frantic, clear that both of us were needing something in that moment, but I’m not sure either of us found what we needed.
But right now, I’m consumed by the guilt of my actions.
There’s this tug in me, this deep pull, where I want to hug Josie, and make sure she is okay, and I want her to hug me and ask if I’m okay.
I want to run into the recording booth and record a journal entry to Amelia to get that final approval even though I already know, to the deepest part of my core, that she’d be okay.
So, really. I should be fine. But am I? I don’t think so.
After Josie fell asleep last night, I immediately slithered off the couch, scooped up my clothes, and ran back to my room.
Honestly, I wanted to sneak out the moment it was over, and what does that make me?
God, I’m a horrible human. But then I felt so terrible that I left her out there, alone, on the couch.
When I put on my pajamas and tiptoed down the hall, I watched her for a moment.
So peaceful. So beautiful. And I needed to make sure she was okay.
So I stuffed a pillow under her head, brought her water, covered her up, and tried to stop myself from crying.
The bed squeaks as I toss to one side, then the other, then finally sit up and rest my head against the headboard.
What am I doing? This is not good. I shouldn’t want to cry after sex.
But I also shouldn’t want to do it again, especially if I’d almost broken down from it last night, right?
Am I losing my mind? Have all these years of solitude finally taken the mental toll that my family warmed me about?
Right now, I don’t feel like I’ve cheated on Amelia, but I don’t feel good about any of it.
I was desperate to not think for a bit and it worked.
My God, did it work, but is that healthy?
A low, dull ache spreads in my chest. Did I use Josie to stop myself from thinking about Amelia?
Last night was too frantic, too urgent, too messy. Sex has always been such an intimate thing for me, and here it was just sort of frenzied and hot. Oh God, so freaking hot. Her smell, her taste… It still lingers, and I want more. I want to do it again. But also, don’t.
My head pounds with a low but fierce headache. Each of us only had a single glass of wine so I know it’s not from that, but the thuds are spreading, like a jackhammering wildfire, up my neck and through my temples.
A fierce rev of tires jars me upright. “What the hell?” Is she stuck? Josie’s from Minnesota, for God’s sake. She should know as good as anyone if she actually gets traction with how fast her tires sound like they’re spinning, she’s going to go flying directly into a snowbank or a tree.
I leap out of bed, rush through my house to grab my jacket and boots, and fly through the front door.
Jesus. It must’ve snowed over a foot last night.
It’s so blustery, the snow so thick and swirly that I have to blink through the storm to see Josie a hundred feet or so away.
I tug on my hat and gloves as I stomp through the thick, heavy accumulation to reach her.
The revving of the car stopped, thankfully, and I see her behind the car, kicking at the tires, pushing, using a mini shovel to dig around the car, and pushing again. The grunts and swear words are almost as loud as the wind, and I can’t help but crack a smile.
“You know… you can ask for help rather than saying words that will make the neighborhood children cry,” I say as I approach. “Pretty sure you even rattled some demons awake with that language.”
Josie turns to me with pink cheeks and a deeply sheepish look. From last night, from right now, I’m not sure.
“You don’t have any neighbors,” she says with a grin.
“Good point.” I walk the perimeter of the car and take a deep breath. She’s definitely stuck. And based on the amount of snow she’s spun from her tires, she was as desperate to get out of here as I was desperate for her to leave.
And again, the guilt consumes me. Did I make her feel unwelcome? Did she not have a good time? Was it because I went and slept in my bed last night? It was just so overwhelming, and I probably didn’t handle it the best. But the very last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she had to leave.
I could help push Josie out of here, maybe even attach my winch to my Jeep to pull her out, but it would be useless.
I live completely off the path of the snowplows.
Even if they did plow the county street, which is highly doubtful since we are the last to be done, the snow is coming down so fast and furious it wouldn’t be safe.
We could shovel until our arms burn off, but the half-mile gravel drive on my property would take us until May to complete.
Josie’s stuck.
Holy shit. I’m stuck with Josie.
She scratches at the back of her neck. “Don’t suppose you have a plow, huh?”
Not one that will get her through this mess, although right now with the wind hitting my face and buckets of snow being dumped from the sky, I don’t want to explain the difference between a Bobcat-style one, and a straight blade one that I can attach to my Jeep.
“Sadly, no. Although every year I think I should probably get one, but I never do.” Panic rushes her face with these words, and I offer her the most comforting smile I can manage.
“But what I do have is backup emergency food that will keep me alive for a year.”
And based on how heavy the snow is right now, we might go through all of it.
I breathe through the shaky nerves, and try not to stare at those lips that are pinked with the air, or think of the way she tasted in my mouth, or think about how mortifying it is that she’s going to come back inside and we will no doubt need to have the most awkward conversation of my entire adult life.
“Hey, I really need to bring Kona out here to use the bathroom, and you look like you’re freezing.” I cringe at the wet streaks on her thin scrubs. “Why don’t we go back inside so you can warm up, I can take Kona out, and then we can have some coffee?”
Although her body is shivering, her face looks like she wants to be anywhere but inside and warming up.
We stand silently for way too long, when finally, her throat seems to roll with a heavy swallow.
“Sure, thanks.” She turns off the car, grabs a duffel bag from the back, and pats the bag with her palm. “Backup gym clothes.”
“Do you have a backup set of drumsticks, too?” I ask, lifting a brow. “Never know how long we’ll be stuck.”
The corner of her lip twitches into a tiny grin. “Unfortunately, I left those at home. I do however have a pickleball set in my trunk. You know, for emergencies.”
We shuffle back up the hill through the wind and snow, and by the time we reach the house, both of our pants are soaked.
I can’t believe I let her stand out there this whole time, while I was in my bed contemplating every bad decision of my life.
Would she have come back to the house? Frozen to death?
Slept in her car? I shake my head as I grab the leash for Kona and bring her outside as Josie stomps her feet at the door and drops her bag.
When Kona and I return, Josie is still standing in the doorway. Her shoes are off, but her feet and legs are dripping wet. “Josie… Seriously, you’re freezing. Why didn’t you go change?”
“I didn’t want to get your place all wet,” she says with a shrug.
“Seriously? I have a dog and live on my own. You’re good, okay?
Please don’t worry about getting my floors wet.
” And not that I am going to call this out at all, but it’s not like we didn’t get all sort of stuff on the couch last night.
The very last thing I’m worried about is my floorboards.
I hang my jacket on the hook behind the door, and release Kona from the leash so she can go to her spot by the couch.
“Why don’t you go take a hot shower, okay?
I have towels in the closet, a toothbrush and toothpaste in the drawer, and just dig for whatever else you might need. ”
She’s avoiding my gaze, most definitely, but making an excuse like she’s inspecting her arms, then her feet, then her bag. “Awesome, thanks.”
When I hear the shower water turn on, I move down the hall into my recording booth. I need to chat with Amelia, to process everything, to get last night off my chest. There are too many conflicting emotions running through my head, a push and a pull that is making me dizzy.
Today, I leave off my headphones so I can hear when the water shuts off, and I hit record.
“Hey. Well, some intense shit happened last night, and I don’t even know where to begin.
Josie slept over. At first, we talked about her life, and then the conversation moved towards you.
I told her so much about you. What you were like, the missing celebrity face recognition chip in your brain, and all about the day you died.
And she listened.” I take a deep breath and confirm that the shower water is still running.
“We talked for hours, and ugh. It was amazing. She’s really cool.
You’d love her. She reminds me a bit of you, actually, but also totally different, if that makes sense.
She has that life to her, that spunk, this pink hair that I’d never be cool enough to pull off, but it’s like so effortless for her…
” I purge everything I’ve thought about this morning when I woke up, from when I went to bed, to how I’m sick to my stomach that I may have used her, to this unsettling knowingness that I need to have a tough and awkward conversation with Josie soon.
Oddly enough, I leave out the fact that Josie and I actually slept together.
I’m not ready to share those details with Amelia quite yet.
When the shower water turns off, I end the recording and rest my head against the desk. Like it or not, I’m stuck here with Josie for the foreseeable future, and I need to deal with what I’ve done.
Starting now.