READ AN EXCERPT BELOW
He’s my ex boyfriend’s uncle. The man who dropped us off at prom. And I can’t stop thinking about him.
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I’m not sure what got me thinking about Josie again this time. A memory, maybe—a glimpse of my old truck, and the flash of driving her back to her parents’ trailer. Or a patch of moss clinging to tree bark, the exact same shade as her deep green eyes.
Doesn’t really matter either way. Whatever it was, I’ve got no business thinking about that girl.
Better to focus on the waxy glow of the moon.
It’s always quiet out here on my property. The folks in town call it the Barns, on account of the wooden structures clustered around the end of the driveway. Every few years or so, I get the itch to build something big again, and another barn pops up on my land. Like mushrooms springing up from the soil.
Josie teased me about it on that last visit. I’d built Harry his own separate place to stay when he came back from college—a gift from one grown man to another. The gift of privacy, respect and space.
Took my time with it, too, building him a proper en suite bathroom and an open plan kitchenette; floor to ceiling bookshelves and a reading nook. There’s nothing fancy about that barn, but every inch of it is well made and hand-finished.
Harry flushed bright pink when he saw it. I even got a rare nephew hug.
And, “You have an addiction, Mr Bray,” Josie had said, a grin twisting her pretty mouth.
Well, joke’s on me. She stayed in Harry’s barn that summer instead of mine, didn’t she? On the sofa bed, sure, because they were broken up by then, but she was still too far away from me. Separated by all those walls.
An owl hoots as I approach the water’s edge. The trees dotted around are pitch black, their gnarled branches blocking out the stars, and already my chest feels looser.
Some days I think I can’t stand it: wanting Josie like this. Being parted from her while every cell in my body screams out to have her near. On nights like this when I can’t wind down to sleep, I get the craziest thoughts about loading myself into my truck and setting off for the city; tracking her down and bringing her home slung over my shoulder.
Hell, I’d stay there with her, if that’s what she wanted.
Like I said. Crazy thoughts.
But it’s fine. It’s just like pushing through any other hard thing: I need to take it one step at a time. One breath after another. Like sanding down an endless rough piece of wood, my muscles burning and eyes dry, hoping that sooner or later, the splinters won’t keep pricking and making me bleed.
A distant thump makes my back tense. There’s someone out by this creek with me.
