Page 174 of When Love Takes Root

I shook my head. “Don’t.”

His brow furrowed. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was about to ask where you went.”

A thin laugh slipped out and embarrassed me. “See? That’s the problem.”

“What is?”

“You notice too much.”

He held my gaze, and the silence between us filled with everything I wasn’t ready to name.

I shifted from one foot to the other. My arms tightened across my stomach. “This is too much.”

His face barely moved, but his eyes took the hit. “Dinner?”

“Me.”

“Celeste.”

“My life.” The words scraped coming out. “My children. My grief. This house with rules nobody explains until somebody trips over one. My son acting like loving me is an offense he has to investigate. My daughter hiding sparks from me because she thinks I’m already carrying enough.”

Josiah stepped closer.

I stepped back.

The hurt flashed across his face before he lowered his gaze to the concrete and gave me the space I’d just demanded.

“I’m not afraid of your life.”

“I am.”

The admission left me with no cover.

His jaw tightened once.

I wanted his arms around me so badly my ribs ached from resisting it. I wanted him to ignore my fear, to reach for me anyway, to make the decision I was too tired to make. Then I would’ve blamed him for pushing. I knew that. Maybe he knew it too, because his hands stayed open at his sides.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered.

The yard sharpened around us. Crickets in the grass. A car passing beyond the fence. The neighbor’s air unit humming like the whole world hadn’t just tilted.

Josiah looked down first, gathering himself from the patio stones, then let his gaze drift back up to my face. “Tell me what this is.”

“Us.”

His mouth parted.

For one second, the patience left him bare. He looked baffled by pain he’d probably seen coming and still couldn’t dodge. Then he pulled it back, piece by piece, until only restraint remained.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“No, Red. You’re scared.”