Page 73 of Love Me Again

Josie wasn’t sure how long she stood there, just holding onto Boone while he held onto her. The entire drive here, she’d had second thoughts. She’d wondered if she was letting herself or him off the hook too easy. If she was doing herself a disservice.

But she just kept playing his Christmas text over and over in her mind.

I just hope you aren’t punishing yourself in the process of punishing me, because you deserve to be happy.

She felt punished. She felt terrible. And the only thing that stretched out in front of her was a crappy job in a place she didn’t want to be. Alone.

She’d never be happy like that.

Because this was home. Boone’s arms around her. A second chance.

She finally pulled away. She kept her head down and tried to surreptitiously wipe a tear from her cheek.

She cleared her throat. “I got that text from Molly yesterday while I was walking out of a gas station, dropping off an application for a job I didn’t want. It was a really shitty gas station.”

“So, this is desperation?” He was joking, but she heard a thread of truth in it.

She shook her head, then straightened her shoulders and looked up at him. That morning she’d left, he’d given her a lot of emotional honesty. Something she’d never been any good at. They’d loved each other as young married people, but they’d also both been a little guarded, a little careful.

And, after spending the last more than a week alone, marinating in her own grief and fear and hurt and anger, she realized… What he’d done was wrong, but it had been the best he could do at that given moment.

It was all any of them could do.

She wasn’t forgiving the unforgivable. She was forgiving the man she loved for having to learn how to be strong.

And he had learned. He’d given her all the words. So now it was her turn.

“I told myself I was going to delete the text, block all of you, because that text you sent me on Christmas had been haunting my every waking thought. It made me miserable, all the ways you all reached out. Reminding me that you and your family were at the ranch having a great time and I was alone and miserable. I was going to put an end to it.”

She didn’t realize she was still crying until he reached out and brushed the tears off her cheeks.

“So, I walked out of the gas station and right there, perched on my truck, was a bluebird.” She shook her head, still in disbelief. It had been bright blue. Unmistakable. She’d told herself she was dreaming, hallucinating, but she’d walked closer and closer and not been able to doubt.

“It’s winter in Montana. There shouldn’t be any bluebirds. But there it was. Like a sign. Or a gift. Like the people I loved and lost were still watching out for me. Like love always does.”

“Josie—”

She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Not yet. “I wanted to protect myself from ever being left again. I wanted my roots to be my own, so no one could ever rip them out from under me. I was so tired of being hurt. Of losing. But that bluebird made me think of my grandma, and my dad, and how I’d suffer every ripping imaginable to spend another moment with them.”

She was struggling to get her words out now, but she needed to. “It’s lonely. And miserable. To be safe means not having a chance for anything better. I don’t see the sense in hurting us both forever, just to avoid a little loss and pain in the future.”

“So…you forgive me?”

She studied him, that faint hint of clearly not being sure she did, because he didn’t think she could.

“Yes, because I think you did the best you could in that moment. I think it sucked and it was wrong and I wished you’d been better, but if you couldn’t be then, at least you learned. At least you can be now. And I’ve seen you Boone. With your family, with Micah, with me. I believe in the man you are now.”

“Jo.” His voice cracked.

“There are some… Not conditions, but… I don’t want to go back to the way we were. We can’t just go back to the way we were. I want to start over.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m not divorcing you, Jo. Even to start over.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “No, we don’t have to go that far. But we can’t just go back to the way things were either. You said it yourself. You’ve changed and grown up. And so have I. I wish we could have done it side by side, but…maybe we couldn’t.”

“I’m still sorry.”

She reached up, cupped her palm to his cheek. “I know you are.” Then lifted to her toes, pressed her mouth to his, held onto him tight. “Now, go get that knee sorted out. I’ll wait with Molly.”