“Can I help you?” He held out a hand.
Shame washed over me, but I accepted the offer, and when I was standing, I breathed in deeply, trying to get my bearings.
“I can take you to the hospital.”
I shook my head, swallowing against a fresh wave of nausea.
“I’m not sick. Just give me a second.”
He gripped my elbow and stood silently while I attempted to compose myself.
“Breathe,” I said out loud, forcing air into my lungs.
A warm hand landed on my back. “Is this okay?”
Eyes closed, I nodded.
“Do you need water?”
I shook my head. “Could you just walk with me back to the house?”
“Of course.”
Slowly, Josh and Wayne accompanied me down the driveway, Josh holding the mail I’d dropped on the ground and Wayne looking up at me every couple of seconds.
Josh had threaded my arm through his, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to lean against his warm, solid torso. If he was cold, he didn’t show it, and he didn’t seem to mind slow walking me toward my house in the middle of the night.
He was warm and steady and strong. And although I couldn’t say it out loud, I was grateful he was there with me.
When we reached the house, I let go of his arm and walked away. It would have been polite to turn around and thank him or maybe give him an explanation, but I was too overwhelmed to speak.
But I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t burden this earnest, kind man with this ugliness. Not after today.
He’d look at my kids differently. He’d look at me differently.
And I couldn’t live with that.
“Pushed myself too hard,” I said as I stepped onto the porch. “Not as young as I used to be.”
“I respect your privacy.” He strode closer and squeezed my hand. “And when you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”
I nodded, trying to not look like a complete train wreck. I took the mail from him, then shuffled toward the door.
“If you need anything, call me.”
Without responding, I closed the door and leaned against it. I took a deep breath, then another. How had he found us?
I poured a glass of water and sat on the couch, willing my heart rate to slow. Eventually, when the terror had dulled, I could focus again.
And what I focused on was memories. Memories of my kids laughing. Julian’s wonder at the giant pumpkin. Singing along with the radio on our road trip. Morning snuggles before school. Stella and Callie and the lovely community we were building here.
And Josh. The gentleness hiding behind his giant masculine exterior. The care with which he treated me and thekids, the thoughtfulness, knowing almost instinctively what Julian needed from him, right down to the brand of crackers.
I was sick of this shit. Sick of Donny and all he’d put us through.
The fear I’d experienced when I opened that envelope had now been replaced by burning hot rage. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes.
He doesn’t get to touch this life.