I shake my head. “And I see how much I’ll hurt you.”
“Then you have to leave.”
“Delia . . .”
She lifts her hand, wiping away her tears. “I can’t get over you. I can’t get over what we could be when you’re here, living with me, doing things for me, giving me these . . . moments . . . where all I want to do is kiss you. When you make me feel like I am special, and I swear you love me.”
I do love her. God, that’s the damn issue. I have always loved her. Then I caved. I let myself have a taste of her, and now look where we are. The idea of me leaving has me ready to fall to my knees and confess it all.
Maybe that’s exactly what I need to do.
“Love is a lie.”
“No, Josh, the lie is that you don’t care.”
“I care. I never said I didn’t. I care so fucking much that it’s why I push you away. I see what love does to people. The trust that’s there right before everything falls apart and then you’re left broken.”
Delia steps closer, tears filling those brown eyes. “Who hurt you?”
There’s the rub. No one hurt me. I’m the destroyer.
“What if I’m the breaker of hearts?”
“So, that means you’ll break your own to stop from hurting me?” she asks, the truth in every word.
“That’s exactly what I’ll do.”
Her lower lip trembles as she tries to smile, and then a lone tear falls. “Well, you’re failing, Josh. You’re breaking my heart right now.”
The need to comfort her and make things better overrides my desire to keep her away. “Delia . . .”
She moves away from me. Her hands going up. “Tell me why.”
She pushes, and I know there’s no getting out of this. I have two choices and neither works for me. I tell her the truth of my past, let her see everything, and then don’t stop her when she walks away. Or I don’t answer her and be the one who walks out the door.
The issue is that I don’t think I’m strong enough to leave her.
It’s no surprise this is where we are. That she’s pregnant, in love with me, and I’m desperate for her.
Delia is my biggest hope and my greatest fear.
So, I’ll do it now. I’ll break both our hearts and tell her the truth.
“You want to know?”
She nods.
“You’re sure, because there’s no going back. I’m going to break your heart more than you think I am now.”
Delia wipes at the wet rivers running down her cheeks. “Tell me so that I can understand.”
“Fine.”
Although none of this is fine. Nothing about that day is fine. Nothing about telling her is fine. In fact, it’s going to destroy me.
“What happened, Josh?” Her question is soft and filled with understanding that I don’t deserve.
I steel myself. Allowing the past to become the future. I see the face of the woman I loved. The trust that I didn’t deserve in her eyes. The sound of her voice, the musical notes of her laugh, and the ending that neither of us anticipated.
“I killed her.”
Chapter 24
Delia
My lips part, and I hear my own intake of breath. “What do you mean?”
Josh is many things, but a murderer is not one.
“You asked for the reason, Delia. Here it is. I killed the woman I loved.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“Of course I am!” He practically roars. “I failed her. I was . . . I was selfish, and she paid the price for it.”
A part of me breaks as I hear the pain in his voice. I move closer, slowly as to make sure he doesn’t retreat. “Who did?”
His blue eyes move to mine, and the agony that fills his gaze makes my heart crack. Josh looks haunted, and I want to take it all from him, but I don’t move. He’s finally talking about what happened, and even though he isn’t making any sense, I won’t do anything that will destroy whatever progress he’s making.
“Her name was Morgan. She was . . . well, she was beautiful and smart, and I loved her.”
I try not to hurt, not to allow the words that I’ve craved and wished he’d say about me enter into this because this isn’t about us, it’s about him.
Josh’s gaze doesn’t waver. “It’s my fault she’s dead.”
The certainty in his voice makes me pause. “How?”
“Do you remember the hurricane ten years ago?”
“Of course,” I say quickly. The hurricane barreled through New Orleans. The destruction was . . . unspeakable. So many lives lost, homes gone, and it was catastrophic. I remember that word because it was said over and over again on the news. Alex was a mess, and no one could get in touch with Josh. The phone lines were down. Cell phones were barely working. It was days before we knew he was safe, and I swear, I died a thousand deaths while we waited.
“I’ll never forget it. The sounds of a hurricane of that force coming through, it was . . . terrifying. My job was to make sure the guests at the inn were safe. I did everything I could from boarding windows to making sure we had water, gas for the generators, and food stored. I worked for four days—no sleeping, no stopping—to do anything possible.” I try to take his hand, but Josh pulls away. “Don’t comfort me, Delia. I don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He gets to his feet, moving around the room. “If it hadn’t been for me, she would have evacuated. Morgan would have been safe.”
“You just said that you did everything possible.”
The laugh that comes from his mouth is full of self-loathing. “Not for her. No, for her, I was thoughtless. I worried about the inn. I wanted to make sure my property and the people staying there were safe. But who cared about her? Who’s responsible for her death? Me. I told her what to do. I was the one . . .”
I get up, refusing to let him push me away. Not this time. I approach him, standing closer than I know he wants, but not giving a damn. “The one who what?”
“She was so scared. She lived closer to the water, and we knew that she needed to get out of there. So, I told her to go to my house. My apartment was on the third floor and in a better location. The surrounding area would flood, but at least the house wouldn’t.”
“Sounds very reasonable.”
“I told her I’d come get her because she didn’t want to drive. She was afraid because there was already flooding where she lived.” Josh runs his hands through his hair. “I told her to wait ten minutes. I told her I would come as soon as I finished one thing, but the storm picked up speed and started moving in faster. I was so focused on my job that I didn’t leave when I said I would. It wasn’t ten minutes, it was an hour.”
I watch the memories flash across his face. His lashes fall and that single movement says everything about the pain he feels. Josh has always cared about the people in his life. He is protective, caring, loyal, and this is breaking him.
“That’s not your fault. It was a storm.”
“Yes, but I said I would go to her. I promised her that it would be fine and I would come get her. It was over an hour I was late. Too late to get to her and help her.”
“Josh, that’s not . . .”
“It is, Delia. It’s my fault. I should’ve left when she needed me. Who cared about boarding up the fucking pavilion? I did. I cared about that more than her. She got in that car. She didn’t wait because, when she tried to text and call me to find out where I was, I didn’t hear my phone. I was busy, and she was fucking terrified. So, she left her house as the winds and rain raged.”
My heart races, already able to guess how this story ends. “I’m so sorry.”
“When I called her back, she was panicking. She pulled over, and I told her to just stay put and I’d come to her. The rains, you couldn’t see. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t see anything. I drove to where she said she was while the panic in her voice got worse.” Josh’s hands start to shake, and I take them in mine, len
ding him whatever strength I have. “The flooding came so fast. Between the surge and the rain, it just was . . . there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t get to her. I tried so fucking hard. There were others there, we made a chain, and tried, but the current took the car and . . . I found out . . . I found out after that she was pregnant.”
My breath stops. “Josh . . .”
“She was going to have a baby, and I let her and that baby die. I was right there. I was so close, and I watched her go.”
I grip his hand harder, trying to ignore the idea that he very well could have died that day too. The selfish part of me is glad he’s here, and then guilt weighs on me, reminding me that this event took something from him. It took a part of him, washing away and leaving him broken.
“Josh, you didn’t kill her. You didn’t. The storm did.”
“I wasn’t there for them.”
“You were there. You were there, and she knew that because you tried to save her.”
His eyes meet mine, and the shame and sadness is too much. “You didn’t hear her scream for me or watch it happen.”
“You tried, Josh.”
“And I fucking failed!” He releases my hands and starts to walk. “I was there, Delia. I was right there, and I didn’t reach her. Had I left five minutes earlier. Had I done a hundred different things different. Had I said fuck the goddamn inn and gone to the person who mattered, she and that baby would be here.”
“But you wouldn’t,” I say the words, my voice even. Whatever he hears in it causes him to stop and stare at me. “You wouldn’t be here, Josh. You wouldn’t be in Willow Creek Valley. We wouldn’t be standing here, having this conversation. It doesn’t mean that what you’ve been through hasn’t changed you.” I step to him, and he stands ramrod still. “It doesn’t mean that what you endured wasn’t incredibly sad and painful. I’m sorry. Truly sorry that Morgan and that child are gone. If you loved her, she had to be special and wonderful. Their loss, it’s tragic and awful.
“You’re here, though. You’re alive and here, and I am standing before you with my heart in my hands, giving it to you without fear. We aren’t replacing all you’ve lost, but we’re a second chance. I love you, Josh. I have loved you my entire life, and I don’t care that you think you’re undeserving because you’re wrong. You do deserve to be happy.”
I move again, and the tears in his eyes slash through my already battered heart. “Don’t.”
“It’s too late. It was too late when I was fifteen, and it’s definitely too late now.” While he may not want it, my heart is his, and I’m going to push him to accept it or push him out the door. Those are the only options for me. I can’t live this half existence with him. “Tell me this, did you try?”
He blinks, shaking his head. “Try to what?”
“After the current took her car, did you try to go after her?” I already know the answer. I didn’t have to be there to see it or have him tell me. Joshua Parkerson doesn’t give up on people he loves. He fights. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that, even as that car drifted, he was moving after it. That every person who made that human chain had to hold him back from going after her.
“I couldn’t get to her . . .”
“Someone stopped you,” I guess, but it’s said as a fact.
“I would’ve drowned for her.”
My hand lifts, resting it on his cheek and willing him to see that I love him and I’m glad he didn’t die that day. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and the two of us don’t say anything.
We don’t need to.
I pour everything into this moment with him. The feelings I held back in the hopes that maybe they’d lessen over time, but never did. I give him all my love. I open myself to him, wanting him to see that while he’s lost, he has a chance to have love again. We won’t ever replace all that was taken, but it doesn’t have to rob him of anything more.
“Delia.” His voice is a whisper.
“Kiss me, Josh. Kiss me and see that I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 25
Joshua
I’m not able to stop myself.
My head lowers as Delia lifts up onto her toes. Our lips touch in the softest, most perfect kiss that any two people have shared.
Her tongue meets mine, and I’m pressing her to me, needing her, needing this. I have to forget, and she’s the only thing that can help.
I’m raw, feeling as if I’m back in that water, helpless as I watch everything drift away.
But I have her. She’s in my arms, touching me, holding me, kissing me like I’m giving her life.
“Delia.” Her name is a prayer that falls from my lips.
The hushed moan that escapes her is swallowed as we kiss again. Her fingers grip my shirt, holding on as though I have any intention of letting her go.
She molds herself closer, and then we’re moving to the couch. I pull her onto my lap, and her legs settle on either side of me as her hair falls around us.
“Josh, I need you,” she confesses. “I need you, and I love you.”
I take her face in my hands, pulling her mouth back to mine before I say something. I want to tell her that I need her. I want her. I am fucking losing my mind being in this house and not touching her. I ache for her and the closeness we had before. She makes me feel like I’m not a monster, and it’s terrifying.
Delia grinds her hips down, rubbing against my straining cock. “Take what you want,” I say, allowing her to have whatever she needs. “Take everything because I can’t lose you.”
I say too much, but maybe this is what we both need.
“You,” she breathes the word.
“What do you want? Tell me, and you can have it.”
Her deep brown eyes meet mine. “Make me feel good again. Make me feel beautiful. Make me yours.”
Jesus Christ. She’s the most beautiful woman there has ever been. I lift my hands, sliding them through her blonde hair. “You have no idea how perfect you are. How being around you makes me insane.” Her eyes flutter, and I move my fingers down her throat. “Your skin, so fucking soft.” I lean up but pull her hips toward me, kissing the skin where my hands were. Delia sighs deeply. “I want to kiss every inch of you, worship you.”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Is that what you want?”
She nods. “Yes. You, only you, Josh. You’re what I need.”
If this is happening, it’s going to be done right. Not another fuck session. I’m going to do exactly what I promised.
I lift her, and her arms wind around my neck as I carry her to the bedroom. When I reach her bed, I lie her down, staring at the gorgeous woman before me.
“Say something,” she implores.
“I can’t. I can’t because you’re so goddamn beautiful, and I can’t . . .”
She’s here, and she’s looking at me like I’m the sun. I am not good enough to be with her, but I’m not strong enough to leave.
“Then kiss me.”
I move to her, taking her face in my hands and pressing my lips against hers. It feels like ages since I breathed, and now I know why. It’s her.
She’s been a weakness, but she’s also my strength. I don’t know what to do, how to fight it anymore.
Her love makes me think there’s hope, and that’s something I haven’t experienced in years. Everything seems possible when I look at her.
Maybe we can be happy.
Maybe I’ve been battling the wrong war.
Maybe Delia is right, and had I not loved and lost Morgan, I might not be here right now, in this moment. I wouldn’t be looking at the woman who I’ve always loved but was too afraid to give my heart to.
It’s why I took the New Orleans inn. This woman. This wonderful woman has terrified me since the first time I saw her. She was fifteen, smiling with Alex as they watched some stupid movie. I was transfixed, sure that there was no way this girl was real.
She was so beautiful, and when she smiled, my breath wa
s gone.
I was already in college, and she was too young for me, so I stayed away from her until the night of her graduation. We were at the diner and both exited the bathrooms at the same time. I don’t know what happened. It was instantaneous. Neither of us spoke before we came together in a crash, and I kissed her.
Maybe we could have it all now.
“What are you thinking?” she asks softly as her hand runs through my hair.
“Maybe,” I answer. “I just keep thinking that word. Maybe.”
I don’t tell her more. Mostly because it’s terrifying. The idea of allowing myself a chance at something more.
Her smile is soft as her fingers move down, brushing the scruff on my face. “Maybe is hope. Maybe is possible. Maybe is a start.”
The words flow around us like a shell to protect the hope that is born from that statement.
I lean down and press my lips to hers. It goes on until I don’t know where one stops and the next begins. We kiss for the past, the present, and the future. I lose myself in her touch, and small broken parts of my heart are put back together. I will never lose the scars, but in her touch, I can heal a little.
She pushes me onto my back and then shifts to straddle me. Her shirt is lifted over her head and then her bra follows.
I lift up, cupping each breast, which are just a little bigger than the last time I saw them. “You’re gorgeous,” I say as I move my hand down to her belly. The ache in my chest grows as I touch where our children are. “Delia.” There are tears in her eyes, and I pull her into my arms. “Why are you crying, love?”
“I want this. I have wanted this, and . . .”
“You’re afraid.” I finish her thought.
She nods. “I want you. I have always wanted you, and now you’re here. I want you to always be here.”
I wipe the tears from under her eyes. She doesn’t see that leaving her is the last thing I want to do. It’s why I pushed my way into her home, saying it was just for her safety. It’s why I couldn’t even bring myself to call a realtor or find a new place to live. She’s what I want. She’s the part of my heart that has been missing and searching for this.
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