Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths #4)(107)
“You’re not the only one,” I remind him, my sudden flare of anger fading fast.
“Yeah, but I’m the oldest. And yet here you are, standing by Mama through it all, still saving the day.”
“Not always.” I give the black walnut a light kick.
“I’m surprised the idiot didn’t lose something sooner, the way he drank,” Josh mumbles as a rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. “You know, I always wished I was more like you. Even when you were just a kid and I was almost done with high school.” Kicking at a remnant chip of wood, a small smirk curls his mouth. “You were always so damn happy and easygoing. Everything rolled off your back. Everyone loved you. You were so different from him. Not like me.” He grits his teeth. “It took losing everything—my wife, my kids, my house—to see that.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he turns to look at me with grim determination. “I’m done being like him, Ben. I’m not going to live my life as if I was pre-programmed to be Joshua Morris Senior. I haven’t touched a drink in six months; I see my kids every chance I get. I take them places. I talk to them and laugh with them. I let them know that their father loves them. And Karen?” His head dips in submission. “I don’t know if she’ll ever give me another chance, but I’ll do whatever I can to change. I don’t want to be lying in a pool of my own vomit in twenty years because I didn’t live the life I could have. All of us need to take a good look at our lives. If there’s been anything about this man holding us back, now’s the time to let it go.”
I nod quietly as another low, long rumble fills the sky. “We should probably get inside. It’s gonna be a big one tonight.”
“Yep,” he agrees. We both turn and walk to the edge of the barn, standing side by side as we look out on the trees, the tendrils of Spanish moss swaying as the wind picks up and the rain begins to fall, first in random, heavy drops until, within ten seconds, the sky suddenly opens up and sheets of it start pouring down.
A single light crests over the hump in the driveway. Squinting, I mumble to myself, “Is that . . .?” My stomach does a giant flip as the Harley races up the driveway, its low rumble competing with the thunder above. Streaks of blond and purple poke out from beneath a helmet.
“Who’s that?” Josh asks.
I smile, my insides tightening up with excitement. “That’s mine, is what that is.” And right now, I mean it.
We move to the side as Reese keeps coming, not stopping until she pulls her bike right into the barn, her clothes drenched. I watch her pull her helmet off and brush the hair off that gorgeous face of hers. I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl so bad in my life.
Caramel eyes peer up at me with hesitation. “You know me and mornings. I just figured I’d be better off coming up here tonight.”
“And because you couldn’t handle being away from me for another night, of course,” I throw back, testing her.
When I see that hard swallow, the pink creeping into her cheeks as she averts her gaze to the ground in a very un-Reese move, I know I’m right.
And I’m damn happy about it.
Her attention flickers to Josh and she sticks a hand out. “Hi, I’m Reese.”
“You can do all that hello shit tomorrow.” I reach out and wrap my hands around her waist, hoisting her up and off the bike like a little kid.
And then I throw her over my shoulder and march out into the rain. I barely feel it.
Chapter 33
REESE
“Ben! Put me down!” I cry out with a laugh as the front door clatters behind us.
I was hoping he’d be happy to see me, but the way he was looking at me out there in the barn, I’m thinking he’s going to devour me. I couldn’t have asked for a better reception.
“Reese?” I hear Wilma’s voice from somewhere in the back of the house.
“Tomorrow, Mama!” Ben’s already moving up the stairs.
“Benjamin, you bring that girl down—” The house is thrown into darkness as the lights cut out, distracting Wilma from her scolding, leaving me dangling upside down over Ben’s shoulder on a staircase, in the pitch black.
“Shit.” Ben stops to pull his phone out and set the flashlight app before he continues, not putting me down until he has climbed a very narrow set of stairs up to a third-floor room in the attic. “We’re sleeping up here tonight,” he announces. My feet hit the wood floor just as a dull glow fills the room, the by-product of a small battery-operated lantern that sits on a simple wooden table.
“Wow.” I can just make out the space. It’s quite large, though most definitely only a fraction of the attic’s full size. Everything has been painted white—the floors, the slanted walls, the trim—which makes a nice backdrop for all of Ben’s dad’s wooden furniture, including a rather stately bed, covered in a colorful quilted duvet. The two large dormer windows must offer ample light in the daytime. Right now, though, they’re protesting noisily against the winds and pelting rain. “It’s so cozy up here. Very cottage-like.”
My knapsack sails through the air past me a second before strong hands grab my shoulders and spin me around. I find myself facing Ben’s giant grin. He doesn’t hesitate to lay a heavy kiss on my lips and I don’t hesitate to lean into it, the feel of his tongue against mine intoxicating. When he finally breaks free, his arms still coiled around my waist, he murmurs in that low crackle, “This was a fantastic surprise.”