by Tanya Wright
“Sorry for being so difficult lately.” She spoke quietly against his chest. He could almost feel her words more than he could hear them, the vibration moving through his chest. She lifted her face to look at him, her eyes bright and full of an emotion he couldn’t distinguish. She’d always been like that: felt too hard, loved too much.
“What are you talking about?”
“The last couple of months. You know, first with the depression. I was so needy. Then with the... Well, anyway. I’ve just been a pain. Maybe I’ve been that way for years.... I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for so long.”
“You haven’t been that bad.”
What she was going through was normal and could be justified. He, however, had no excuse for his behavior.
“You’re a liar, but thank you. I’m hoping this is the end of it, though. I think I’m finally ready to move on.”
“And are you? Moving on?”
“Sometimes I feel like I have moved on. Then other days, it seems difficult to let go. Two steps forward, one step back. And every time I feel this sense of guilt for even trying to move forward.”
“I know what you mean.” He knew exactly what she meant.
“You do?”
“Yes. It feels like you’re dishonoring him and his memory.”
“Exactly.” Her response was a whisper on his neck.
She leaned into him, her face buried in his neck. Her lips innocently came in contact with the skin just below his ear. Electricity coursed through him as his hold on her tightened. He closed his eyes, praying sanity would return.
Focus on the subject at hand. Something platonic. Focus on Drew. Or your mother!
That worked.
He thought about the important things. Micah considered him to be her safety and he took the job seriously. He would make sure she always felt secure with him. The images that ran through his mind threatened that in every way possible. He’d begun to recite it to himself, a mantra of sorts: Drew’s girl. Drew’s girl.
“I think I’ve always felt guilty for living, guilty for turning him away that night, for ignoring my instincts and letting him drive in that storm. I didn’t feel like I deserved to live life, much less a happy life.”
Her words hit too close to home. His own guilt was overwhelming. He could take hers away in an instant, but he would lose her just as fast. She would hate him if she knew the truth. She would never forgive him. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. It was just his time to go.”
“Yeah. I think I’ve finally figured that out. And that we honor his memory best by living a life he would be proud of. You know he always lived life to the fullest. He would expect the same from me.”
They watched the rest of the movie in silence, but his mind was far from quiet. He kept thinking about what she had said about Drew wanting them to live life to the fullest. Part of him wanted to believe Drew would have supported anything that made Micah happy. But what if he couldn’t make her happy?
He had never wanted anything more from a woman than a casual relationship. He’d never allowed anything deeper to happen between him and someone else. What if he wasn’t capable of a long-term commitment? What if he hurt her? Josh didn’t want to believe that he would ever intentionally do that to Micah, but why risk it?
None of it mattered, anyway. He was wasting brainpower just thinking about it. At the end of the day, Josh knew the truth about Drew’s wishes. Nothing could ever, ever happen between him and Micah. The end.
The movie credits began to roll, but Josh couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. Micah’s deep and steady breathing told him she had fallen asleep on his chest. She felt so right. He wanted to hold his breath so as not to disturb her. It felt natural to have her there, fitting so well next to him. It was as if he had been made just to hold her like this.
His emotions were running ragged. Recently, there had been times he felt so angry at her, at this situation and her inability to move on from Drew. But he loved her deeply and the moment she looked up at him with her warm coffee-colored eyes, his anger dissipated.
But more often than not, there were moments, moments he was ashamed of, moments of pure lust that should never have happened. She didn’t belong to him. She never would.
Sitting here any longer would be detrimental to his state of mind. He really should carry her to her bedroom and leave her there, safely ensconced behind a locked door.
But instead he found himself carefully readjusting them so he could slide down further into the couch. There was enough room for him to swing his legs up onto the cushion as he maneuvered himself into a lying-down position.
Micah began to move, but did not wake. Her own legs extended along his as she made herself more comfortable beside him. Her body flush against his own. He didn’t care how wrong this was. It felt too right.
As he lay there with her in his arms, his mind kept drifting back to the tattoo he had briefly seen earlier. It was covered up now and there was no way he would be able to sneak a peek without waking her. It was a mystery to him. Why couldn’t he figure it out?
The heart was unique. It wasn’t what you would normally think of when considering a heart tattoo. It was the kind of heart you used when texting someone—a less-than sign with the number three. It formed a heart with textspeak, but why get it as a tattoo?
Then suddenly a thought came to mind. Could it be?
No. He quickly erased the thought from his mind. It was all just wishful thinking and nothing more.
Something caught his eye on the coffee table—a small stack of papers, nothing out of the ordinary. However, Drew’s name stuck out at the bottom of a yellowish piece of paper, half-hidden in the pile of receipts.
Curiosity drove him to reach for it, careful not to wake Micah.
The words were hard to read in the dim evening light, but he strained to make them out. It was a love letter from Drew, and just the kick he needed in order to regain some clarity.
* * *
Micah woke some time during the night, the howling wind rousing her from a deep sleep. It took a moment for the fuzziness to fade and for her to realize just where she was sleeping, or rather, on whom she was sleeping.
She lifted her head from her place of comfort on Josh’s chest. His breathing remained steady, a light snore escaping from his slightly opened mouth. Her legs were tangled with his as they lay entwined on the couch.
Having been best friends for so long, there had always been a level of comfort and physical affection between them, but never had she found herself in such an intimate position with him.
Her hand moved on its own accord down his chest and over his tight stomach, feeling the rippling of his hard muscles beneath the softness of his T-shirt. Her hands wanted to explore more, but her mind wouldn’t let them. She couldn’t accost him in his sleep. What kind of girl did something like that?
Heat warmed her cheeks, hoping he wasn’t aware of her wanton behavior as he slept peacefully. Carefully, she tried to separate herself from him without waking him, moving to the chair across from the couch.
Her eyes roamed over his sleeping form. She could see the stubble on his face in the moonlight. He typically kept a shadow of a beard, tamed but not clean-shaven. It was approaching slightly scruffy and it looked good on him. Masculine. Her fingertips yearned to reach out and feel his prickly jawline.
Micah had always wondered what stubble would feel like scraping against the softness of her own skin. Drew was so long ago, but he had always preferred a close shave. She had imagined it in her dream, but wanted to feel it for real. Just once.
His chest moved up and down in a calming rhythm as she watched, troubled by her numerous thoughts. He was such a great friend, probably even too good.
Over the years, her refusal to face her grief head-on had forced her to carry some se
rious baggage whether she had been aware of it or not. Her grief and pain had weighed her down like concrete set about her feet, keeping her from actually experiencing life. She had become accustomed to the weight, not fully aware of the burden it had become.
She was aware of it now. Josh had carried her the whole time, bearing the brunt of it for her. She had taken advantage of him, grown accustomed to his support. Never once had he allowed her feet to touch the ground. Never once had he insinuated that she was a burden to him. He just lovingly and willingly carried her.
Like light filling a darkened room, realization dawned on her. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have been so blind? She didn’t know when it had happened, exactly, but somewhere, at some point, something had happened. It hadn’t just escalated from friendship to lust. What she felt was far more intense.
Micah had fallen in love...with Josh. Once she faced the truth of it, it was all so clear. She was in love with Josh. Maybe she had always been in love with him. The knowledge both scared her and excited her. Overwhelmed her with the sudden thought of what happened next. Now that she had this new piece of information, it would change everything. She didn’t want anything to change. Then again...maybe she did.
What was she thinking?
There was no way she could tell Josh about this newfound discovery. She would lose him for sure. He would never feel for her what she felt for him. This love had to stay hidden. Her relationship with Josh had always been enough before. It would still be enough.
There was no way she could go back to sleep now. Looking at the clock, she knew she had at least two more hours before daylight. She leaned back in the chair and pulled a blanket around her.
It was just too easy to keep looking at Josh as he slept. She felt like a creeper, but at the moment she didn’t care. Her eyes couldn’t pull away. It seemed such an intimate moment to be alone with him in the middle of the night, to see him asleep, the moonlight caressing his face.
* * *
Micah needed to find something to do if she couldn’t sleep, because staring at Josh wasn’t going to work. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she tiptoed to the bathroom.
She lowered the cover to the toilet seat and sat down and reached for a magazine. “How to Please Your Man” was plastered on the front cover. Thoughts filled her mind. Warmth crept up her neck and filled her cheeks. She placed a cold hand on her face to suppress the overwhelming heat taking over. She threw the magazine back down. Bad idea.
She reached for another, much tamer magazine. This was the longest night ever. The close proximity was killing her. Flipping off the light, she tiptoed back through the living room and toward the kitchen. Would she be able to make some tea without waking him?
She filled the teakettle with water and placed it on the burner. Then turned on the stove top and reached for a mug.
“Can’t sleep?”
She almost dropped the mug. Spinning at the sound of his voice, she could barely see him in the darkness of the kitchen. “You could warn a girl instead of sneaking up on her.”
“Not as much fun.”
Boy, did he sound good with his early-morning sleepy voice.
Focus, Micah. Focus.
“Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but it’s no biggie.” There was that voice again. Don’t ask him any more questions.
“Sorry. I’m making some tea. Do you want some?”
“Sure.”
Josh leaned against the kitchen wall while the water boiled. Why was it that water took so long to boil?
His hair was tousled and T-shirt rumpled. It would be so easy to take two steps and stand in front of him, rest her hands at his waist and lean into him. The way he stood practically invited her to do it. She would just have to take two steps. That’s all that separated them.
She couldn’t do it, though. It would ruin everything.
The hiss of the teapot caused her to jump. She turned to reach for it at the same time he did.
“Oops. Sorry.”
“I can get it.”
Their hands brushed up against each other, their bodies so close. She looked up at him. He looked down at her. Something in his gaze was different—fiery, full of desire.
Her eyes dropped to his lips, but the moment she realized what she had done, she knew she should turn her eyes away. Look anywhere else but at him, at his lips.
She couldn’t. His tongue peeked out, quickly wetting his lips.
It happened before she even realized it was happening. She wasn’t even sure if she moved first or if he did, but somehow she found her lips against his and it felt good. It was hesitant at first, slowly building. He knew what he was doing, whereas Micah...had been out of practice for a while...a long while.
Gently he backed her up until she felt the solidity of rough brick behind her. She was trapped between a wall and an immovable man. Never before had the thought of confinement been so enticing.
A heavenly rush swept through her body as his hands traveled down her sides, gripping her hips. His kiss was demanding, bruising. The rough edges of the brick wall scratched against the delicate skin of her back as his body leaned heavily against her. His fingertips dug into her flesh as he pulled her closer to him, deepening the kiss.
The intense push and pull didn’t end with him. She gave back just as much. Her greedy hands slid under his shirt, fingers splayed on his strong, broad back. Desire caused her to sink her nails into his skin as she held on for dear life.
His large hands slid down her hips and gripped her thighs, lifting her up and setting her down on the kitchen counter. His hands remained on her thighs as she pulled him in closer to her. She arched her back, needing as much of her to touch as much of him as possible.
“Micah.” The way he spoke her name, with such reverence, such passion, stirred her deep within.
“Say it again.”
TWELVE
“Micah.”
She woke in a full-body sweat. Again. She pushed damp strands of hair back from her face and threw the cover off her body. Pulling herself up from the chair she had slept in, she noticed the couch across from her was vacant.
It had only been a dream.
She released the deep breath she had been holding. Thank God.
“Micah, you want any coffee?”
She padded to the kitchen in her slippers, the smell of coffee permeating the air. Josh looked just as he had in the dream. Her fingers tingled, itched to touch him, to run through his tousled hair, to reenact the dream still vivid in her mind.
She curled her fingers into a tight fist, bringing the errant tingling into submission. Control yourself, woman!
“Coffee?” Oh, his voice even sounded like she had imagined, all gravelly and rough with sleep.
“Yes, please.” She sat on the barstool at the kitchen counter. He turned and set a cup of hot coffee in front of her, but avoided eye contact. That was fine with her. She couldn’t have him analyzing her and finding out about her late-night musings. Her thoughts were never safe with the way he read her like a book.
“I’m gonna start clearing off my truck, then we can go pick up your car. We may have to dig it out, though.”
“Okay. I’ll get dressed.”
Ten minutes later she found Josh outside, meticulously removing all evidence of snow from his truck. She wouldn’t dare offer to help. He never let anyone touch his baby. She jumped into the cab and waited for him.
When they pulled up to the coffee-shop parking lot, her car was barely visible. It appeared to be more a giant mound of snow than a vehicle.
“This is going to be fun.” Josh parked the truck and looked over at her. “You ready?”
“As ready as I will ever be.”
* * *
Josh couldn’t believe she d
idn’t remember. He had walked on eggshells all morning, waiting for the awkward conversation that never came.
He looked over at her. Micah softly hummed to herself as she was hard at work on the one side of her car while he tackled the other side.
They had to shovel around the car just to get close to it. Despite the frigid temperature, Josh had worked up quite a sweat. Slowly but surely they were uncovering her little car.
He looked up at her again. She really was oblivious to what had happened last night.
Josh had woken to the sound of her walking around the apartment. It had been dark, but he’d found her in the kitchen, where she appeared to be making tea. But tea never happened.
Still in a sleepy haze, he hadn’t been able to control himself and apparently neither had she. The heated make-out session had annihilated any semblance of control he thought he still possessed. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected her to be so responsive to him.
Her uninhibited passion in all of its blinding glory was far more beautiful than his finite imagination could ever have made up.
And she didn’t remember a thing about it. Had she been sleepwalking? Or was it sleep kissing? Oh, God. If that was how she kissed in her sleep, he wouldn’t be able to handle a kiss with her fully awake and not drunk.
Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. If she didn’t remember and had truly been unaware of what transpired between them, then there was no harm done. If he could just go on as though it had never happened, she would never know.
Micah must have pushed the scraper a little too hard, because it slipped and sent snow flying into the air in his direction. He tried to duck out of its path, but failed, getting hit on the side of his face.
He couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He reached down, grabbed some snow and shot back up, tossing a snowball right at her.