Exhaustion washes over me in heavy waves, and as I climb under the covers beside Josiah, it hits me just how much I need him to hold me. I want to sleep wrapped up in his arms, breathing him in, but I don’t know how to ask for that. You’d think it would be simple after everything we just did, but that almost makes it harder to ask.
Kind of fucked-up logic, if you ask me.
Luckily, I don’t have to figure out a way to ask because, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, Josiah lies down, pulling me into his side, and wrapping an arm around me. He smells like sex and musk, and I can’t get enough. Wordlessly, I bury my face in his neck, one of my legs resting between his. I feel safe and content, and falling asleep is easier than it ever is.
35
JOSIAH
Walking through my front door with an armful of grocery bags on each side, I set them on the counter just as my phone starts going off. I reach into my pocket, pulling it out, surprised to see the name flashing across the screen. With a quick glance at the time, I note that it’s only about seven in the morning there.
I hit answer, bringing it up to my ear. “Hey, man. How’s it going on that side of the country?”
“Hey, Josiah,” Dylan replies flatly. “We have a problem.”
My stomach sinks. “Okay, what’s up?”
He exhales heavily into the phone. “The shop was broken into last night.”
My eyes close as my head drops back into my shoulder, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of my nose. This is the last fucking thing I need.
“How bad?” I ask, already knowing I’m not going to like the answer.
“Pretty bad,” Dylan murmurs. “A bunch of our equipment was stolen, garbage was strewn all around the shop, and there’s graffiti everywhere.”
“Fuck!”
The town in Nevada I lived in has a huge issue with street taggers. But it’s not just the graffiti, it’s the vandalism and theft that takes place too. I, along with many others in the community, think it’s gang related, but the town is so under-funded that nothing has been done about it. Up until now, my shop’s gotten lucky. We’ve somehow avoided getting hit.
“I think you need to come down here,” Dylan says, breaking me out of my train of thought. “The cops mentioned that you need to be here to deal with insurance. I can’t do it.”
Great.
Blowing out a breath, I drag a hand through my hair. “Alright. I’ll get something booked and let you know the plan once I have one. Thanks, man.”
Hanging up with him, I head into my spare room where I keep my computer, and I sit down, looking into flights. My wallet is really going to love this last-minute trip.
When I first bought the shop here in Nashville, I decided to keep the Nevada shop too, because I wasn’t sure how starting up a new business was going to go—even though it was already a fully running garage. I didn’t want to strap myself or have this one sink and not be able to make ends meet. So, I kept it and just promoted my assistant manager, Dylan, to manager.
It's selfish as fuck, but right about now, I wish I had sold it, because then I wouldn’t have to fly back there and deal with all this shit.
Once I’m done booking a flight, I text Dylan the details, before calling Ash to let them know that I’ll be out of town for at least a few days. It’s Saturday, but I highly doubt I’ll be back before work on Monday. So, they’re going to have to run the shop while I’m gone.
Thankfully, they seem fine with it, and hopefully, I won’t be gonetoolong.
Next, I pack everything that I’ll need before taking a shower, putting off what I’m dreading having to do. It’s been a week since I went to the rodeo with Segan and his friends, and things between us have been going pretty well. Between both our work schedules, we haven’t seen each other that much, but we’re at least talking regularly throughout the day, and I can’t help but think this unexpected trip is going to set us back.
Logically, it’s not a big deal. I’ll be gone for a few days to a few weeks,at most. But with Segan, I know it’ll be so much more than that. Getting him to open up to me and let me in was a big deal, and now that he has, I’m about to leave for the place that destroyed us the first time. Granted, I know it wasn’t necessarily me moving to Nevada that screwed up what we had… it was Lana and everything that went along with her.
But he won’t see it that way. I know him.
Sitting on my bed, freshly clean, with a towel around my waist, I pull up his contact, hitting call while my stomach twists into knots. It rings a few times before connecting, and when his raspy, gruff voice reaches my ears, it’s both calming and nerve-wracking at the same time.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey, you busy?” I ask, my knee bouncing incessantly.
“Nah, just chillin’ at home. Why?”
