I wasn’t perfect, and I’d grown up so alone and isolated and without my mom. So I convinced myself that maybe I actually was a shitty person.
And I loved my kids so much. Would do anything for them. So working a little harder to please their father seemed like the least I could do.
So I folded towels differently.
I took over all the holiday gift giving and sent his mom flowers on Mother’s Day.
I attended every school meeting and function alone because he was either busy working or needed to decompress by playing golf with his friends.
When I discovered that he was spending most evenings at strip clubs, getting drunk and high with his friends, I blamed myself.
I was boring. I was ugly. My world had become so small. Of course I wasn’t interesting.
But when it became clear that Julian’s mind worked differently from either of his sisters’, when I realized he wouldn’t grow out of his quirks, a deeper, stronger loyalty inside me woke up. My desire to understand him, to support him, pushed out many of my insecurities.
Only then did I begin to understand just how much power I had given away.
And I wanted it back.
All that I had given him. Donny hadn’t stolen it from me. I’d given it away. And I’d never forgive myself for that.
“Use your whole body,” Josh coached. “Not just your arms.”
I swung the sledgehammer again, driving down with my legs, and the faded bucket cracked in two. Fuck, this was addictive.
He clapped, the sound echoing off the trees. “Awesome.”
I studied him, so large and intimidatingand quiet.
I’d written him off as an asshole.
But I couldn’t have been more wrong. This man saw me. The dark cracks and corners and places where I had shoddily patched myself up. And he wasn’t scared of any of it.
And he was one hell of a kisser.
“Having fun?”
I nodded, adjusting my safety goggles. “When do I get a chainsaw?”
He chuckled, his lips tipping up, his eyes shadowed by his ball cap. “We’ll work up to that.”
“You sure you don’t mind?” I worried my bottom lip. “That I’m making a mess and breaking things?”
“Giving you this moment is my absolute pleasure,” he said, and damn it, that stupid dimple popped, making his lopsided grin even sexier.
How was it that he could be so scary on the outside—his size, his attitude, his general sneer—yet put me at ease so easily? With him, I never felt the need to remain on alert or walk on eggshells. I could just be me.
My arms ached and my lungs burned, but I couldn’t stop. I moved on, bashing an old chair, its legs and back splintering. My hands, that had once held so many crumbling pieces together, were breaking these items into their most basic components. Years of swallowed words poured out of me silently. Years of fear and grief, and the bone-deep exhaustion that came with living in survival mode.
I dropped the sledgehammer to the ground scattered with splintered wood, bent metal, and the remains of things that had once been useful.
Josh stood a few feet away, leaning against the shed, hishands loose at his sides. He was there. Steady and unflinching. No judgment, no concern, and no pity.
And like before, I realized that I wasn’t bracing.
My shoulders weren’t locked up around my ears and my jaw was unclenched. I wasn’t subconsciously making an exit plan, replaying conversations or preparing to explain and defend myself.
The constant hum of vigilance that had buzzed around me for years had finally gone quiet.