I placed a tentative hand on his knee, wishing I was better at comforting people. “You were just a kid,” I said gently. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” Josh stared at where my hand rested against the blue denim of his jeans. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “But that doesn’t stop me from feeling like it was.”
The ache intensified.
How long had he lived with his guilt and kept it to himself? I doubted he’d told Ava, not when it was guilt over her. Perhaps he’d told Alex when they were friends, but I couldn’t picture stiff, icy Alex being particularly reassuring.
“You’re a good brother, and you’re a good doctor. If you weren’t, I would’ve heard about it. Trust me.” I imbued my smile with mischief. “I’m plugged into all the gossip.”
That earned me a small laugh. “Oh, I know. You and Ava wouldn’t shut up whenever you got into one of your rants.”
My heart jumped into my throat when he covered my hand with his and twined our fingers together. He squeezed, that one action saying more than words ever could.
Three months ago, I would’ve never willingly touched him, and he would’ve never willingly turned to me for comfort.
Yet here we were, existing in the strangest iteration of what our relationship could be. Not quite friends, not quite enemies. Just us.
“And you? Why’d you become a lawyer?” Josh asked.
“I’m not a lawyer yet.” I remained still, afraid any movement would shatter the fragile, therapeutic peace between us. “But, um, Legally Blonde is one of my favorite movies.”
I laughed when his eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “Hear me out, okay? The movie was the jumping-off point. I looked up law schools out of curiosity, and I fell into a rabbit hole. The more I learned about the field, the more I liked the idea of…” I searched for the right word. “Purpose, I guess. Helping people solve their problems. Plus certain types of law pay well.” Warmth suffused my cheeks. “That sounds shallow, but financial security is important to me.”
“That’s not shallow. Money isn’t everything, but we need it to survive. Anyone who says they don’t care about it is lying.”
“I guess.”
We fell into companionable silence again. The golden spring afternoon cast a soft haze over the scene, and I felt like I was living in a dream where the rest of the world didn’t exist. No past, no future, no Max, exams, or money worries.
If only.
“So, what you said earlier.” Josh twisted his head to look at me. “Good brother and doctor, huh?” He removed his hand from mine. I mourned the loss of his touch for a brief moment before he tugged on my braid again, a crooked smile forming on his mouth. “Was that a compliment, Red?”
“My first and last for you, so savor it while you can.”
“Oh, I will. Every morsel.” The velvety suggestion in his voice bypassed my brain and went straight to my core.
“Good,” I managed.
What was happening to me? Maybe someone spiked the food with aphrodisiacs because I shouldn’t be this flustered over Josh.
What started as a fake date was quickly turning into an existential crisis. Hating Josh was one of the core pillars of my lifestyle, along with my love for caramel mochas, my aversion to cardio, and my rainy-day pastime of browsing obscure bookstores. Take my hate for him away, and what was I left with?
My heartbeat quickened. Don’t go there.
Josh’s smile faded, leaving behind an intensity that sent shivers from my head to my toes.
An endless second stretched between us, suspended by the same electric charge from earlier before a shriek of nearby laughter snapped it in half.
Josh and I jerked apart at the same time.
“We should go—”
“I have to leave—”
Our voices tangled in a rush of excuses.
“I have to pack for Eldorra,” I said, even though our flight wasn’t for another five days.
As Bridget’s bridesmaids, Ava, Stella, and I were flying in early for pre-wedding prep, courtesy of Alex’s private jet. Josh wasn’t in the wedding party, but he was joining us because why fly commercial when you could fly private?
“Right. I’m gonna stick around, help clean up.” Josh raked a hand through his hair. “Thanks for coming. We successfully warded off all matchmaking attempts.”
“Thanks for inviting me. Glad I could help.”
An awkward beat passed.
Given our arrangement, we should be heading to his place for sex because that was supposed to be the cornerstone of our relationship, but after our conversation just now, that felt...wrong.
Josh must’ve thought the same, because he didn’t say anything else except, “See you soon, Red.”
“See you.”
I quickened my steps until I reached the park exit, too afraid to look back lest Josh see the confusion scrawled over my face.
He was working all week, so I wouldn’t see him until our Eldorra trip. I could take the time to reset and return to our equilibrium, AKA attracted to but barely tolerating him.
But I had a sinking feeling that whatever knocked our world off its axis had done so irrevocably. Not in one afternoon, but in all the moments that led up to it—our truce at the clinic, our ski lessons, our night in Vermont, our sex-only pact. Hyacinth and the library and the hundreds of small moments in which I thought about Josh and didn’t experience the same visceral irritation I used to when he crossed my mind.
Disrespect Jules again, and I’ll put you in the emergency room myself.
That’s not shallow.
Was that a compliment, Red?
I didn’t know what to make of my strange new feelings toward Josh, but I knew one thing: there was no going back to whatever we used to be.
28
JOSH
In hindsight, taking Jules to the picnic was the worst idea I’d ever had. The short-term gain of outsmarting the hospital’s matchmakers wasn’t worth the long-term pain of replaying the afternoon over and over in my head like a broken record I couldn’t bear to toss.
You were just a kid. What happened wasn’t your fault.
You’re a good brother, and you’re a good doctor.
Every time I thought about our conversation beneath the tree, I wanted to rewind and freeze time so we could stay in that moment forever.
Sun shining, food in our laps, the emptiness in my chest a little less empty with Jules’s presence filling it up.
It was unacceptable.
Wanting to fuck her was fine. Wanting to call her when I had a crappy day was not.
It didn’t matter if she was the only person I could talk to without fearing judgment. There would be no more quasi-dates from now on, not even fake ones. And definitely no more sleepovers or letting her borrow my shirt.
I still hadn’t washed the one I’d lent her after Hyacinth. I’d get around to it eventually, but it didn’t smell bad. It smelled faintly like her—warm and cinnamony with a hint of amber.
The same scent enveloped my senses now as I buried my face in her neck and drove deeper into her, trying to ease the ceaseless, unquenchable need in my stomach. But every thrust and kiss only magnified it, and my frustration spilled into the speed and force of my fucking.