19. Josh
JOSH
Then
S eeing Dove happy was the best thing in the world.
She was like a fully bloomed flower turned toward the sun, vibrant and radiant. I wanted to see that look on her face forever, wanted to be the one to put that look on her face forever.
But I was happy gazing in through the window from afar.
After her graduation, after photos and well-wishers and a heavy arm full of bouquets, she chucked her gown, showing off the cute outfit she’d picked out underneath it.
I cradled Dove’s flowers in one arm, her gown carefully draped over the other, as her mother doled out rules.
I barely heard her, too focused on keeping my gaze from straying to Dove’s bare legs in that dress.
“And home before midnight,” Josie ordered firmly.
Dove and Reverie shared a look, the other girl still swallowed up in her white graduation gown, her cap askew atop her head.
“No later, Dove,” Josie cautioned, as if sensing their telepathic defiance. “And no drinking. If I find out you’ve had even one sip, you’re grounded.”
“ Mom —”
I glanced up long enough to see Josie’s stern face.
“Fine,” Dove conceded begrudgingly. “But we’re getting ready at Rev’s, so I’m going to leave with her, is that okay?”
“Of course, baby,” Josie said, voice turning sweet as she tugged her close for a hug. “I’m so proud of you. Congratulations, honey.” She kissed Dove’s forehead tenderly and my heart ached in my chest for something I never had.
“Mom,” Dove whined, laughing. “That’s like the twentieth time you’ve said it.”
“Well, I’ve got to say it extra, don’t I?” She tugged Dove closer and whispered privately to her, “Your father would be so proud of you.”
I only heard it because I was so close to them, having offered to hold whatever Dove wasn’t taking with her.
Dove’s eyes grew misty, and Josie took her back into her arms again. They embraced long and hard, swaying slightly. I risked a glance over to my father, surprised to find his eyes softer than usual.
Even he’d pulled Dove in for a celebratory hug.
All I’d gotten was a pat on the shoulder at my graduation.
Regardless, I was happy that Dove had her mother’s love and my father’s affection. If anyone deserved it, it was her. Dove deserved all that and more.
She certainly didn’t deserve my sick, perverse thoughts.
When they finished their goodbyes, my father gave her a final approving nod before they left. I’d driven separately, so I stayed behind.
“Do you need me to take anything else?” I asked sarcastically, lifting the plethora of items in my arms. “I think I have a little more room.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I think I’m okay. Thanks, Josh.”
“Congratulations, Dove.”
She fought a smile, but it won out, spreading across her face. “Not you, too. You all act like I cured cancer or something.”
“Or something,” I agreed.
Her cheeks flushed the way I loved to see, and suddenly I felt the urge to bolt—as if staying was a mistake. I should’ve gone with Josie and my father.
“Well, I should?—”
Before I could even get the words out, Dove’s arms were locked around my neck, pulling me down for a hug. I floundered for a moment, arms full, but then Reverie was there, taking what she could so I could wrap them around her properly.
I’d forgotten her friend was even here.
I couldn’t help but hold Dove close. To let my hands splay wide across her back as I held her to my chest. I was so damn proud of her.
She’d struggled a bit when she’d first moved here, but after meeting Reverie and settling into a routine in her new home, she’d flourished.
Dove was smart as a whip, and I knew she’d go far in whatever she decided to do.
“I’m so proud of you, Dove,” I murmured into her hair, breathing her in.
Strawberries.
They’d forever remind me of her.
“Thanks, Josh,” she replied in a small, soft voice. It made me want to tug her tight and never let her go.
When the hug went on a little too long to be proper, I squeezed her one final time and let go, stepping out of the circle of her arms. They slid from my shoulders, and she crossed them over her chest.
I took back her flowers and gown before clearing my throat and offering an awkward, “Have fun. Call if you need me for anything.”
“You got it,” Reverie chirped, looking chipper. She’d always been an odd one, but she was Dove’s best friend, which meant she was around a lot. I’d grown used to her. Mostly.
I leveled them with my best “serious” look, hoping to rival Josie’s. “Behave.”
Dove attempted to hide her smile, but Reverie didn’t even try.
“We will!” she agreed in a voice that promised anything but, then grabbed for Dove’s arm. As she tugged her away, I heard her say, “All right, we spent enough time with yours, now it’s time to find mine.”
“Rev!” Dove hissed, glancing back at me worriedly.
Shaking my head at Reverie’s antics, I turned and made my way back to my truck, depositing Dove’s stuff carefully in the front seat.
I really hoped those two didn’t get into too much trouble tonight.
The sun had set, and night had fully settled in. Fireflies floated like twinkling stars in the distance, and crickets sang their songs from the cover of tall blades of grass.
It was ten minutes to midnight, and Dove still wasn’t home.
Our parents had gone up to bed after I’d assured them I’d stay up and wait for her. My father hadn’t seemed bothered in the slightest, but Josie had paced around the kitchen, her worry manifesting in a need to clean up nonexistent crumbs as if they personally offended her by being there.
Keeping my vigil on the porch swing seemed to calm her, and she went up to bed shortly after at my father’s insistence. He nodded his thanks before following her upstairs.
Damn him. And damn my need for his approval.
I wasn’t some attention-seeking teenager anymore. I didn’t need it.
The swing creaked as I pushed myself back and forth, one foot planted on the floor while the other crossed over, my ankle resting on my knee as I leaned back to take in the stars freckled across the night sky.
I was worried about Dove too, but I trusted her.
I just didn’t trust who she was around.
Reverie cared for her, but she was reckless and fueled by bad decisions. Dove had let it slip that Reverie planned to leave soon. Packing up and moving to LA without so much as a job or a place to rest her head at night.
Reckless didn’t even begin to cover that one.
The sound of someone coming down the drive drew me from my thoughts. I couldn’t see them in the dark because their headlights were suspiciously turned off and the moon was but a sliver in the night sky. The mystery vehicle wasn’t visible until it got closer to the porch and its circle of light.
It wasn’t Rev’s Jeep, but a truck instead. Not anyone’s I recognized, for that matter.
When Dove jumped out of the back, closing the door behind her a little too loudly, I jumped up from my seat. Once the door was shut, the driver wasted no time in hightailing it out of there, the gravel crunching under their tires as they sped back down the way they’d came.
The night settled back into quiet as if it’d never been disturbed.
I watched as Dove ambled up to the porch, her gait slow and methodical. When she reached the steps and her hand missed the railing, I gave a weary sigh.
So much for not drinking.
“You’re drunk.”
I leaned against the pillar at the top of the steps and watched her fumble.
She jumped, placing a hand on her chest.
“Dammit, Josh,” she whispered, her voice slightly slurred. “You scared me.”
“You scared your mom,” I shot back. “She was worried you wouldn’t be back by midnight.”
Dove snorted, finally making it up onto the first step, swaying slightly. “Well, I must have made it. I didn’t turn into a pumpkin.”
A smile twitched on my lips, but my worry that she’d been drinking didn’t allow me to laugh.
“You’ve been drinking.”
She didn’t answer, instead focusing on climbing the steps slowly, her hand clenched tight on the railing. At the top, when she let go, my heart seized as she swayed. Without thinking, I moved to steady her before she could fall back and crack her head.
That was the last thing we needed tonight, considering the state she was in.
“You’re drunk,” I repeated.
“ Shhhh .” She brought a finger up to my lips. “Don’t wake them.”
“You’ll do that all on your own,” I whispered back. “Why are you drunk, Dove?”
“Jus’ celebratin’.” She shrugged, then sighed and all but melted in my hold, her hands dropping down around me, her head flopping onto my shoulder. “Tired.”
My heart clenched as she molded herself against me, letting me take most of her weight.
“Let’s get you up to bed,” I suggested, holding her up and praying she slept off whatever was in her system so Josie wouldn’t find out come morning.
I wasn’t in the business of tattling. Dove and I had each other’s backs.
She’d certainly had mine plenty of times, including on my twenty-first birthday, when I woke up the next morning with no clue how I’d made it into my bed.
My dad would have killed me if he’d found me passed out somewhere inappropriate—legal drinking age or not.
She’d been vague when I asked, but I knew she’d had something to do with me finding my own bed safely.
I could do the same for her now.
“Come on,” I urged, shrugging my shoulders to nudge her where she was slowly falling asleep against me. “Up you get.”
She moaned quietly and her arms wrapped tighter around me, causing me to still. All I could hear were those damn crickets and our deep breathing. Her chest rose and fell against mine.
“Sometimes I wish,” she mumbled into the side of my neck, her lips skimming across my skin. Goosebumps rippled across my body at the touch.
“Wish for what, little dove?” I asked hoarsely. The nickname just slipped out; I couldn’t help it. The shape of her felt wonderful in my arms, even if she wasn’t there for the best reasons.
She gave a brief shake of her head.