Jocelyn
You either evolve, or you make the same mistake again and again. Growth is a painful but necessary progression.
—My Therapist
Was this inevitable? Was it predetermined? Did some force lead me to him, deep in that hotel basement three years ago? Because
this feels like fate. I can’t believe it took me so long to see it. And why did I fight it, thinking it would hurt? A vast ocean of endless sparks has erupted between us, and for the first time,
I want to drown.
The man saved my life. Shattered my glass walls. Pulled me from the literal floods. Even after I hurt him, rejected him, turned
away from him, he still took me back.
I’m in awe. And so immutably in love with him.
After a luxurious, mind-melting shower, I crash into his fluffy pillows to catch up on the sleep I missed the night before.
The worst of the storm moves inland after about eight hours, but warm and clean in Asher’s bed, I barely notice.
I don’t worry about my house, my things—decades worth of books, irreplaceable photos and furniture likely all destroyed by the flood. None of that matters.
I’m alive, and I stir in the arms of the man I love when he shifts away from me. With weak, sleepy limbs, I reach for him.
“Wait.”
A soft kiss lands on my temple. “I’m starving. I’m going to make us something.”
Groaning, I blink my eyes open. “What time is it?”
“Six. You slept all day.”
What? Wow. “Damn. How’s the storm?”
The bed jostles as he leaves it. “Eye has moved inland. Flooding’s pretty bad, though. Beaches are destroyed. They think some
bridges collapsed.”
I sit up and rub my face. “Really?” I glance out the window. Still windy, but less violent. The yard is flood-free. “Have
you heard from anyone?”
He slides on a pair of sweats. “Geoff said they didn’t flood. They’re okay. He’s the only one who responded. I think the cell
towers were knocked out. Service is in and out.” He throws his phone on the bed. “Check that.”
A time-lapse beach-cam video shows the incoming surge destroying the beachside restaurants and shops, washing away hotels.
The pier withstands the wind and water for a while, but eventually, it’s taken by the storm, leaving only a series of pilings
in the thrashing waves.
My wide eyes lift to his when it ends.
He takes his phone back. “I know. I think the storm surge is receding now, but . . . a lot of damage. Your sister has been
updated, by the way.”
“Thanks.” When he pulls on a T-shirt, I become starkly aware of my nakedness. I yank the blankets up to cover myself. “Can I have some clothes?”
He smirks. “No. I like you better without them.”
“Asher!” I throw a pillow at him.
Laughing, he points at the closet. “You know where my stuff is. I’m going to make some food.”
He leaves, and I raid his closet for the coziest, most Asher-scented items. In the kitchen, the bacon somehow overpowers the
sexy forest smell. I traipse up to him, sliding my hands around his middle while he cooks.
“Can I ask you a question?” he says.
“Shoot.”
He removes cooked slices from the grease and adds raw strips. “That night in Florida. Were you really only curious about me,
or did that mean something to you?”
Oh. He’s just going there, isn’t he? Has it been bugging him, thinking I didn’t feel that deep connection we had? Articulating
what I felt that night might be difficult, but he deserves the truth. With a single deep breath, I try to get the words out.
“I didn’t—I didn’t want it to mean anything, but . . . it did. I think . . . It was like . . . It was like you rearranged my DNA that night.”
His muscles shift beneath me as he flips the bacon. “That good, huh?”
“No, that’s not— Well, yes, it was that good, but I meant it was . . . life-changing. I saw what we could be, then convinced
myself I didn’t want it. I got scared. I lied to myself. To you.”
“You compared me to a Lamborghini.”
Heat rises to my face, and even though he can’t see it, I hide my wince in his back. “Yeah, that sucked. To be fair, you’re
like the Lamborghini of humans, though.”
The skillet sizzles as he lays more bacon in the grease. How much bacon is he expecting us to eat?
He sets his tongs down and spins, arms settling around me. “I am?”
My lips press together, but the chuckle rises anyway. “Best ride I’ve ever had.”
A second passes before he gives way to laughter. His forehead drops to mine as it fades away. His voice lowers. “You nearly
killed me, Joss.”
My heart squeezes, and I hug him tight. “I’m so sorry. I’d take it back if I could.”
A gentle hand runs over the back of my head. “You went through a lot today. A lot of emotions.”
I let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”
“So . . . are you sure, Jocelyn?”
Confused, I look up at him to find a guarded expression. “Sure?”
“I’m all in on this, but if you’re not sure, if you have doubts—” he caresses my cheek “—I don’t know if I’ll survive another
rejection like that.”
Ugh. I really hate myself right now. His uncertainty, his fear— I did that. I can’t believe I hurt him, this beloved unicorn
of a man, so I don’t give him another second to doubt me. “I’m all in. All yours. As long as you want. As long as you love
me.”
A tiny smile flickers on his face. His eyes gleam with humor, and he busts into the Backstreet Boys song.
As long as you love me.
I press a hand to his mouth. “Don’t be extra. Shh.”
Beneath my hand, his song morphs into the Justin Bieber tune, growing stronger by the second.
My giggle breaks loose. “I can’t take you seriously when you sing.”
“Oh, I’m serious.” The words are still smothered under my hand, but the look in his eyes is solemn. “Deadly serious. You’re all in with me?”
I nod. “All in. Submerged completely. One hundred percent.”
In one smooth move, he yanks my hand away and kisses me soundly. “I believe you, but break my heart again, Mattox, and we’re
going to have a problem.”
Now that I’m homeless, I decide to skive off Team B relief efforts the following day. In fact, I let Cassie know I’ll likely
need an extended leave of absence given I have no transportation or worldly possessions for the time being.
Asher, however, covers his shift like a good little doctor while I lounge in his clothes at his house, eating his food. Once
he connects to the hospital Wi-Fi, he sends me distressing updates on my phone—somehow still functioning despite being submerged
in floodwaters. Thanks, Apple. You da best.
I can’t make calls, but I can receive texts, and Asher’s are by far the funniest.
Traffic is insane
No streetlights
Hospital is still on generators
Legendary is down
Joss the sewers are backed up
Can’t flush.
People are shitting in bags
??
Save me.
Is it cruel that I’m snorting at his plight? After his shift, he arrives home with a harried glint in his eye. I try hard
not to laugh.
He merely shakes his head. “No power. No gas. Water is undrinkable. Half the roads are un-drivable. There are boats in the
streets. People are starting to loot.”
I ring my arms around him. “Have you heard from anyone else?”
“Yeah.” He kisses my cheek. “Everyone’s okay. I called your sister. She was freaking the fuck out.”
“I’ve been texting her all day. Did she think I was lying about being fine?”
“The pictures on the news are pretty bad. She said you can stay with her if you need.”
I smile. “Did you tell her I have somewhere to stay?”
“I told her I got you covered.” His lips move to my jaw, then my neck. “She had a lot of questions.”
“I’ll bet.”
When his tongue touches my pulse point, I lose focus on the conversation and speak with my hands instead.
A few days later, we drive to my house even though I already know nothing is salvageable. My landlord went by the day before,
and according to him, “The place is trashed.”
Standing in my entryway is a surreal experience. A layer of sand coats the wood floors, and my furniture is thrown haphazardly
around like a tornado blew through. The car in my garage is destroyed. The oak tree still rests in my bedroom, and my closet
isn’t even accessible—not that I could wear any of the ruined clothes inside.
Asher leans on the jamb of the front door while I slowly peruse the destruction of my material assets. Good thing I’m not sentimental, or I’d be in tears. I have nothing left.
In the living room, I flop my hands out, dejected. “I need to find a new place.”
“Stay with me.”
I glance at where he’s still perched in the doorway. Always leaning. “Yeah. But I mean . . . I need to find a permanent solution.”
He nods and throws on an earnest expression. “Stay with me,” he says again.
The meaning behind his words trickles through my brain, lighting it on fire. I move closer to him, close enough to read the
hope in his eyes. He wants me to live with him? “Don’t you think that’s too fast?”
He flashes a smile at the floor like I’ve said something funny, then looks at me through his lashes. “I’m going to be totally
frank here, and I hope this doesn’t scare you off, but dear Lord, girl. Fast? It took three years of foreplay just for us to kiss. We are the slowest humans on the planet.”
“That’s . . . That’s not true.”
“True? You want something true?” He puts one finger beneath my chin, tilting my face up. “The truth is, I would have married
you yesterday if I thought you’d let me.”
My stomach falls. Married?
“So, no,” he says. “I don’t think it’s too fast.”
“Wh-what?”
He chuckles and drops his hand. “Jocelyn. Is living together really such a stretch? We already know the worst parts about
each other.”
I toss out a playful scowl. “There are no worst parts of me.”
“Right,” he says, choosing that moment to ignore me in favor of the destruction in my living room. “Because the obsession with HGTV and your deathly fear of attachment are absolute joys to deal with.”
“Hey! At least I don’t get a boner for ducks.”
He gives me the godforsaken puppy-dog face. So cute.
“No fair,” I mutter.
“You love the ducks.” He says it with such assurance, like there is no other option.
With a laugh, I yank him closer, and his arms encircle me at once. “This is the real deal, though,” I say. “We’ll be cleaning
up each other’s messes. Fighting over the remote. Making indelicate use of the bathrooms.”
He snorts. “Such a pessimist.”
“I hog covers.”
“I already know this.”
With a frown, I snake my arms around his shoulders. “I leave the lights on.”
His shrug accompanies a quick kiss. “That’s what switches are for.”
“I never replace the toilet paper.”
“Heathen!” The next kiss is longer, more persuasive.
“I always use all the hot water.”
He pauses. “Well, there’s the dealbreaker.”
I sneak my hand beneath his shirt to pinch his side, and he laughs.
“It’s no pressure,” he says. “If you aren’t ready, it’s okay. You can stay with me until you find a place.”
My gaze snags on his, and his smile fades into something softer, more serious. I press myself into him. “Did you mean what
you said? About marrying me?”
His smile is slow to dawn, but it’s bright. Coruscated. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to marry you the first day I met you?”
I roll my eyes. “You were joking.”
“Was I? Can’t recall.” He cups my face. “Come live with me, Joss. Be with me. I’m showing you my hand. It’s your turn. Call, raise or fold.”
All at once, the ruination behind me doesn’t sting so bad. Instead, a dawning excitement bubbles to the surface, lighting
my blood neon. I’ve tossed the old, scared, guarded Jocelyn in with the detritus of my former life, and from the destruction,
someone healthier has risen.
A fresh start.
I give him my biggest, truest grin. “All right. Fine. Let’s go home.”