29. Josh
JOSH
T he moment my touch left hers, Dove’s smile dimmed.
I hated seeing anything less than a beautiful full megawatt smile from her, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I was respecting her wishes, doing what she asked me to do, what she wanted, even if it killed a part of both of us to act like we were nothing but two kids who grew up together because our parents married one another.
We walked into the bustling festival side by side just as we had all those years prior.
Everything the same—same obnoxious strawberry themed decorations, same food stalls, same local faces selling their wares.
Still, something was different. Deep down I knew the difference had nothing to do with what was around us and had everything to do with me.
I had changed.
I’d always been able to tuck my want for Dove away into the back of my mind, to live like I didn’t have a burning desire for her scorching a hole in my heart, because I never expected her to be anything more to me than what she already was: off-limits.
Now that Dove was mine, now that I’d kissed her, held her, touched her, I didn’t know how to fold her back up into that tiny space I’d locked her up in for all these years.
I didn’t want to. My feelings for Dove didn’t deserve to be shoved into the dark, like a twisted, ugly thing.
They deserved to bloom, just as beautiful as she was, into something thriving and alive.
Pretending we were nothing more than stepsiblings so we could celebrate with the town couldn’t hold a candle to being alone with Dove, where we had no reason to hide how we truly felt for one another.
Where we didn’t have to live a lie and we could be real.
Where I could turn my desire to tuck her under my arm and kiss her into a reality.
A scowl was working its way onto my face with each step I took—and it grew with every inch of space that extended between us, but I attempted to ward it off. This was meant to be a fun day, despite the circumstances. I didn’t want to ruin it for Dove.
Tonight was for us, I reminded myself as I dodged a small child excitedly holding a bundle of cotton candy larger than her head. It’d be the solace we both needed after all this.
Despite everything I couldn’t do, it was far from terrible being dragged all over town by a certain dark-haired beauty.
At least I was here with her, by her side, when I’d spent three years only dreaming of doing this again with her.
That thought alone was enough to wipe the frown off my face, erasing my irritability with each strawberry themed confection she handed me.
Instead of the kiss I wished to place on her lips in thank you, I smiled at her instead, hoping it conveyed everything I couldn’t say or do right now.
Her pleased grin—with a hint of flushed cheeks—had my heart palpitating, and if I wasn’t sure it was just me being hopelessly in love with her, I’d be worried.
In between bites, we chatted with the locals, keeping a respectable distance between us as we dodged their well-meant sympathy.
Once we got over the awkward condolences, it was easy to fall into conversation, enjoyable even.
I worried it would be a sore spot, everyone constantly asking what I was up to while I’d been away, but Dove seemed to be just as curious, hanging on my every word.
Until I brought up something she hadn’t known, something I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her, that reminded her that there was three years of my life she’d been absent from.
Then I watched the twinkle in her eye dull with hurt.
She attempted to hide it from me by slanting her head away, pretending to be interested in the ruckus of people around us, but I noticed.
I always noticed. I’d never wanted anything as badly as I wanted to grab her in that moment, to kiss that wounded look off her face and let her know that nothing in those three years compared to even three minutes with her.
That urge to touch her, to remind her I was here now and not going anywhere, had me reaching for the food I was offered to by old Mrs. Miller, a ninety-two-year-old widow who hands down made the best strawberry scones around.
I figured if I kept my hands full, it would make it hard for them to stray, and if I kept my mouth busy, it couldn’t kiss her.
Even if the itch to do so never went away.
For being a small town, there sure were a ton of people to talk to.
Everyone wanted to stop and chat with us, reminisce about our parents, or ask me what I’d been up to, attempting to pry into what my plans were for the farm now that Gareth was no longer here to run it.
Dove silently bristled, and I couldn’t blame her considering she had been the one who stepped up to keep it running since her mother’s diagnosis, Gareth otherwise occupied with a sick wife.
I gave them one of those answers without really answering, moving the topic along.
You got pretty good at that, growing up in a town like this, where one slip up meant everyone would know your business whether you wanted them to or not by that time tomorrow.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know what my intended plans were.
It was just complicated, especially considering I hadn’t even brought it up to Dove yet.
I’d been waiting for her to bring it up to me.
Waiting for her to initiate the conversation we had to have about the farm, now that it’s future was unclear, but she hadn’t.
I would have, but when I held her at night as she shook with silent sobs, trying to be quiet so she didn’t wake me, I knew she was tangled in a web of grief.
As much as she put up a strong front during the day, she was still processing what happened to our parents, all while navigating our newfound relationship, which was so new and delicate it was like a house built of stacked playing cards.
One wrong move, and it could all come crashing down.
I’d been avoiding the topic for that very reason.
There was no way I was going to discuss something important like that with anyone here before I’d even broached it with her.
When we finally bid our goodbyes and walked off, Dove’s cheeks were rosy, either from the heat or anger, probably a little of both.
“It’s like they think I can’t handle it,” she seethed, angrily striding beside me like a pissed off ball of sunshine.
I didn’t like to see her upset, but damn if she didn’t look gorgeous when she was.
Those blue eyes of hers were even brighter when they glittered with rage.
“I bet they think you swooped in to save it from failing just in time now that Gareth is gone.” Said eyes rolled in aggravation.
“As if I couldn’t possibly keep the farm running all by myself. Oh wait, I have!”
Her rant died abruptly in her throat as I pulled her into an alley between Wally’s ice cream parlor, The Local Scoop, and the only bank in town.
It pissed me off, too, if I were honest. Dove had always been more invested in the farm than me.
I’d done it out of misplaced commitment, hoping that if I did a good job and listened to what I was told, I’d make my father proud and somehow, he would care about me more.
That hope died the day he kicked me out without so much as one iota of regret.
I left, my heart breaking not for the home I’d lost, but for the girl I’d left behind inside it.
They had no right to dismiss Dove when I’d been the one to abandon the place.
I could have fought harder, I could have stood up to Gareth, but I’d been scared and ashamed of being caught red-handed in my feelings for Dove, and although I’d always felt shackled to the farm out of obligation, a part of me had been waiting for an excuse to leave.
I just had never wanted to leave her .
Even with the sun low in the sky, dusk fast approaching, the shadows of the alley weren’t enough to hide us, but we were farther from the center of town now, the crowd not quite as gathered this far down. We could take a minute for ourselves.
“You have every right to be angry.” I pressed her back into the brick wall next to a large metal recycling container, hoping to be shielded from anyone passing by. “I don’t have any right to be speaking on what the future of the farm is.”
The fact I was Gareth’s son meant nothing. Dove might not be biologically related to him, but he hadn’t been reminded of what he lost every time he looked at her. For that alone, Dove might as well of been his—far more than the disappointment of a son he’d been left with to raise.
The storm simmering in her irises slowly leached away, as if my proximity was absorbing it.
“It’s your home,” she argued softly, her hands finding my shirt and burrowing in.
“No, Dove. You are .” I pulled her closer, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been meaning to talk about this?—”
A look of panic flitted across her face. “Let’s not talk about it now,” she rushed out. “Not here.” She looked up at me from under her long, dark lashes, anger replaced by a desperate plea shining deep in her ocean eyes. “Please.”
I was a sucker for those eyes, and I knew it, but it really wasn’t a conversation for now anyway, although I’d been hoping to staunch some of her anger by discussing the options I’d secretly been pursuing about the farm, options that kept Dove firmly in control, like she deserved.
But we could talk about that later. Right now, however…
“Alright,” I agreed, lifting my hands to cup her jaw and tilt her head back, threading my fingers through her soft hair. “On one condition.” Her eyes were as wide and bright as the sky above us as she hung on my every word. “I’ll agree to talk about it later if you agree to let me kiss you now.”