“Were they bad to you?” I ask the dreadful question.
“No! No. They were not. Just strict.” Her chuckle is sad. “Very strict. You know, I grew up in a small town in Arkansas.”
She starts fidgeting with the hem of her dress, pulling it lower on her thighs as if she’s trying to cover them. Which should be absurd. But then her next words explain a lot.
“Our small town was not like… shall I say other small towns. It’s like a closed-up community of old-timers where only old people are allowed to have an opinion, and everyone should follow the rules. But as you know,” she looks at me from under her lashes, “I’ve never been good at following rules.”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t saynever.” I subtly remind her about our time at the back of this car when she was so good at obeying, making her cheeks turn slightly pink.
“Well, I guess.” She snickers. “But I often ended up in the back of a cop car in my teens.”
I glance at her with a raised brow in shock, thinking I was her first back seat.
“Not that kind ofback!” She smacks my shoulder. “I’ve always loved bright clothes and big hair. Well, I started as an emo kid, but graduated into the brightness later. And quite frankly, I’ve always had a big mouth.” My eyes quickly focus on her lips before they return back to the road. “And being different was… a crime.” Her voice turns sad, and her aversion to cops is starting to make twisted sense. “So I always was an outcast. Even in my own family.” She pulls the hem even harder, trying to cover her thighs. “We had a farm, and we all had to work on it. Which is fair, you know.” I don’t know who she’s trying to convince at this point.
“Did they ever,” I swallow before continuing, “hurt you?”
“Not physically, I guess. But locking me in a dark bunker for a day was a regular punishment for me. Sometimes I spent even longer there.” Then she adds with a dark laugh, “I guess it was like a cult or something, to think of it. Only we weren’t praying to ancient gods. Just maybe ancient times.” She shrugs.
“Josie,” I call her in a soft voice. “I’m sorry you had to grow up like that.”
“That’s okay. I am who I am because I had a childhood like that. Maybe if I grew up any differently, I wouldn’t have any ambitions and wouldn’t have moved to a big city to chase my dreams. Who knows.”
I squeeze her hand a bit. “I’m sure you’d be a kickass building engineer slash awesome home designer no matter what happened to you because you were made to be one.”
“Thank you.” She gifts me with a precious smile that somehow feels very meaningful. “My parents never wanted me to leave the town and become anything other than the extension of our family. That’s why I pay for my sister’s tuition far away from them.”
I glance at her in shock. “You have a sister?”
“I do.” She nods. “And three brothers. She is the youngest and reminds me a bit of me at her age—a rebel before she even knows it. But I didn’t want the same fate for her as every woman in that town. Being a guy is easier—at least they have control over their lives. And quite frankly, over their families. I didn’t want my sister to become one of the women in the kitchen, Ken. I couldn’t do that to her when I felt the taste of freedom.”
While she’s telling her story, we reach my house. I park in front of the garage and turn toward her. “How did you get your parents to let her leave town then?”
She exhales loudly and leans the back of her head on the seat. “Through a lot of convincing and a hefty chunk of my sanity. I said I’d be paying for the schooling if they let her go. They said they would if they chose it themselves. But Ken,” she licks her dry lips, “she’s more brainwashed than I ever was, so she sees it as a betrayal. She thinks I convinced them to get rid of her, so she doesn’t speak to me. Ever.”
Her eyes are full of pain, and I see another side of Josie for the first time. A very vulnerable, insecure, and lonely woman who’s scared that her sister doesn’t love her. A woman who thinks her family cast her out.
“She will see it the way it’s supposed to be when she gets older.”
“Not if she goes back to our hometown. The only thing she has ever told me since she got into school is that she hates me and all big cities because they make people become assholes.”
“Then we convince her to come here.” Her eyes shoot to mine. “It’s a small town too, right? So it should be easier.”
She’s watching me, slowly blinking, while I keep going. “We will tell her that we want her here. That she’s welcome to live in our small town with us. Do you think it would work?”
She’s still watching me.
“Josie? What do you think?”
“I thi—” her voice breaks, “I think it might.”
“Good.” I give her a warm smile. “Now, let’s go inside and take a shower. We have a lot of…” a quick glance down at myself and then at her, “things on us.” I shudder at the thought of our evening and all the fluids that have dried out on our skin by now.
I go around the truck to her side and open the door. She’s waiting for me with her hands tucked under her thighs. I know she can jump out herself even in those heels she finally ditched, but she prefers my help. Sheletsme help her with a small thing like that even after she just told me her story. And even that little thing makes me feel like a fucking king.
I get her down by her waist, and we walk hand in hand to the house. She goes straight to the bathroom. Right before closing the door, she glances at me with a slight nod to join her. And I do.
We lather each other’s bodies, and we rinse the soap off. I urge her to turn around and pour shampoo into my hands. Running my fingers through her hair, I massage her scalp, and she leans into me. Nothing of what’s going on is sexual, but it’s very sensual. We are experiencing this moment where she once again lets me take care of her, making all my primal urges come to the very surface, nearly threatening to explode within.
