DITW 15-9: Root Congestion

Josh was beautiful. Beautiful, but so vulnerable. Despite his sojourn and his exile, he still showed aversion to her touch. Timid. Like a victim. Gun shy. The harm she’d caused him was heartbreaking.

His hard cock was in her hand, his mouth on her skin, her aching nipples aching even harder, hurting and wet—now, of all times, leaking when she had the man she wanted in her bed.

A sojourn of her own, an exile of her own, had brought her to this point, and now she was prepared to ruin it all by lying, by deceiving, doing all the things that had sent her into lonely and deserved despair.

She let go of his cock, slipped her hands around to his bare back, hugged her cheek to his chest, and closed her eyes. If she let him go and he departed, jumped out the window and flew off into the night, everything would be over. Nothing would ever be the same. She kissed the warmth of his sweater, knowing the risk; stopping now when the ball was rolling would cease their progress and could cast them apart again. And she couldn’t bear that.

But Josh sensed the change, coming to his senses, swimming up from the dark depths where she had sunk him, words like heavy chains dragging him down where the light couldn’t reach. A place she knew he liked. A place he wanted to spend time in. But not like this. Nothing could be more roundly wicked than taking his game piece and pushing him back to the start when he was so close to freedom.

Josh abandoned her, but not the bed, falling off to the side, laying on his back and blocking his eyes with an arm. His cock stuck up out of his open pants, hard as steel and shining wet.

She palmed her forehead, closed her eyes. Getting what she wanted without coercion was a path that would take time to learn. Tonight the stakes were high, but deception was too great a risk. She imitated Josh, resting a forearm over her brow, her other hand closing her pajama top. Two married people who’d faced sheer devastation, laying in bed together, hiding from each other though they were touching.

She lowered her arm, cleared her thoughts, scooted up onto the bed, drawing her legs underneath her; she curled her body around Josh’s head and shoulders, caressed his hair and stroked his beard. Josh removed his arm and opened his eyes. She thumbed his chin, loving every angle of his perfect face. Josh tucked his erection into his fly and closed it. She kissed his temple.

But sensing he could sit up and abandon the moment, leave her swimming in its sweet wake, alone again like she’d been alone for a year, had her surging forward, not even having a plan. Acting on honest instinct. 

But then again, just a crafty angler giving a trophy fish some more line.

She said, “I lied about Devlin’s father.”

Josh nodded, expression somber still, mouth tucking to one side—a sign of the psychic wounding she so casually reintroduced to his life just because she wanted him to stay.

“We’re not together,” she said. “We’ve never been together.”

Josh’s brow crinkled. She stroked her palm over his jaw, liking the beard under her touch. He said, “What do you mean?”

She told him she was sorry; Josh sat up, and she was sure he would bolt to the door. How would she even stop him? He regarded her over his shoulder, bewildered and bothered. She sat up as well, cross-legged on the bed’s center. She intertwined her fingers and hooked her thumbs. She said, “I’ve attended a few functions with him. It’s for work, but also he doesn’t want to go alone. He’s not interested in me. Not in that way.”

“Why would you tell me...?”

“I, I don’t know, Josh.”

“You were just, just what?—trying to get me in bed?”

She shrugged, feeling foolish, but grateful he hadn’t walked out of the room.

Josh looked away, puzzled, struggling to make sense of her inane actions, getting him in this room and practically seducing him. “Am I that predictable? Do you think I still want that?”

She stopped twiddling her thumbs and held her head instead, both hands on her brow and temples. “I’m ashamed,” she said. “I just . . . Meyer told me about how you saw the photo...”

“And how I reacted. And you think, what? That means you can play me like you used to?”

She swore he was looking to leave, and she scooted closer, putting his back and rump into her crotch, long legs on either side of him. She threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged her cheek to the back of his neck. “Don’t leave me, Josh.”

Josh slumped, but she detected no seizing of muscle or tendon, no preparation for flight. Only slump-shouldered defeat. The last thing she’d wanted tonight. The very last thing. She’d foreseen wonderful things. Seen them with crossed fingers. Like Josh with his baby. And Colleen would look in his eyes and Josh would right away be a changed man. He would stay in Unionville tonight. He would sleep in her bed. She would wake up with him.

She said, “I haven’t been with a man, Josh. Not since the last day I saw you. I’ve been so busy. So busy trying to make things right.”

“I... I wasn’t with Karina... I wasn’t—”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I just couldn’t... I didn’t want to do anything with her. I think I just needed a friend.”

That was like a knife in her heart. Josh had gone to Karina and Karina had been there for him after all the harm his wife had done. She’d almost killed him.

“I don’t want to talk about bad things, Josh. I don’t want to talk about the past. Tonight, can we just talk about the future?”

Josh’s chest and shoulders expanded in her clutch as he drew in a deep breath and let it out. She accepted it as an answer in the affirmative. “Stay, Josh. Stay the night. Stay here. I’m so glad you came.”

“You should hate me for how long I stayed away.”

She dug her chin into his back. “I don’t.”

“But you’re punishing me.”

While she surmised his proposal, her grip on him lessened and Josh stood up from the bed, leaving her there alone. He crossed to the dresser and braced himself, two hands on it, hunched over in a way that reminded her of the time he’d hurled the office chair at Devlin Stone.

“I’m not trying to punish you.”

Josh tossed his hands up like he was tired of arguing the same point. “You could have told me you weren’t seeing Devlin’s dad, but you used it against me instead.”

“I’m not against you, Josh. I want you to be happy.”

“By lying to me?”

“Josh...” Now she was exasperated too. Wishing Josh could see into her heart and know she meant him no harm. She only wanted good things for him. “I... I pass you a crayon and you just start coloring. I don’t have to lie. I don’t have to manipulate. You do it all. You take it to the endpoint, running as fast as you can.”

The way Josh stared back, hollow-cheeked, showed her how hurtful her words were, even unintentionally. Josh wasn’t ready for this conversation. None of this was what she’d wanted for this night.

Josh sighed and leaned his backside against the dresser. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I sure don’t know who you are.” He tossed his hands up; letting fate make his choices, adrift at sea. “That’s my fault for staying away for a year.” He regarded her. “But look at you now. I don’t even recognize you. Do you recognize me?”

She nodded. “I know what you’re saying, but I do see you, Josh. I really do. I recognize you.”

Josh smiled, a weak one, but she was happy to see it. But its presence also summoned another thought: this man is so done with you, his smile is his way of showing how you can’t hurt him anymore. You don’t mean anything to him.

But Josh said, “You’re persuasive. You could persuade me to do anything.” He gestured toward the bed; the place where she’d tried to seduce him with words from their dreadful past. She looked away. He said, “Is that what you want for yourself? Is that what you want for me? To ease me into satisfying place? And then when I’m there, what then? What do you see for yourself when I’m no longer a problem?”

She wiped at her eyes, then regarded him. “You’re not a problem.”

“A wrinkle,” he said. “A wrinkle you need smoothed.”

“Do I make you feel like that?

“Of course. Can’t you hear me saying it to you?”

“You’re not a wrinkle.” Anger had tightened her voice, raised it. “You’re not some imperfection in my life. You’re the only thing that I want. That I desire.”

Josh shook his head, lips slimmed to a thin line. “I’m not worthy of your desire. Don’t you see it? What could I ever offer you? I’ve seen what turns you on. I’ve seen the things you like. You showed me how you measure a man.”

They had both raised their voices. Josh’s body tightened, and she saw him like a coiled spring, ready to bounce right out of Unionville and away from danger. She couldn’t even be mad at him anymore for his tendency to flee. It had been a life-saving mechanism.

She bolted from the bed, wanting to be close to him before he disappeared, putting her hands on him, touching his arms, looking into his eyes.

“No one could ever hurt me like you hurt me,” he said. “No one ever.”

A cold knot formed in the center of her chest. It was an awful thing to hear. Most awful because it was true. There was nothing to say. She said, “Maybe no one would love you enough to try.”

“You wanted to hurt me? I always thought that.”

“No. I wanted to hurt you in the way you flirted with.” She let go of his arms, waved her hand, dismissing the ugly alley the conversation kept finding its way to.

“That’s a lie. A year-old lie. You know that. It was camouflage. You wanted it to hide the evil you did.”

And that was true. This wasn’t an ugly alley they had to avoid. It was incontrovertible truth that neither of them could escape. She’d just lied again—anything to avoid the sharp edges of their past. Just not tonight. Not the truth. Another time, yes. But tonight she wanted him to be happy. Happy to be here. Happy for his gift.

She said, “Okay. Yes, you’re right—”

Josh held up a hand to stop her, expression uninterested and dispassionate. It tightened the frigid knot; she’d never felt more distant from Josh than right now. In the last year, he’d been physically removed from her life, but she conjured him in her thoughts every day, motivation while trying to build the scaffolding of repair that could unite them again. But tonight was the launching ceremony, and things weren’t going well. Her ship would sink. The craft she’d fashioned for them wasn’t seaworthy at all.

“That’s it,” Josh said, waving his hand now, the one to dismiss their entanglement. “I don’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not ever.” He dropped his hand, stared at her a moment longer, eyes watery and mournful, brow creased. He shook his head, like he’d almost wanted to continue, but knew there was no point. He turned to leave.

The sight of his familiar back broke her resolve, and right now, she would do anything to make him stay. She’d thought teasing him with his obvious interest in some relationship with Devlin’s father could tickle him, lure him into their old games—done now only in the safety of their own home. But that was an awful mistake. Apologies formed on her tongue, pleading arguments appeared in her foggy fore-mind. Anything, anything to make him stay. She would fall on her knees, she would fall on her sword. She begged him. 

“Please, Josh. Please, don’t go. I can’t go on without you. You don’t even know what it’s like. You don’t know what I would do for you...”

Josh turned his face over his shoulder, puzzled and perplexed by her sudden wheedling cries. “I’m not leaving, Kimmy,” he said, low and plain. Calm. “I’m going back to the house. I don’t want to be in here with you right now. In this prison. Sophie...” He pinched the bridge of his nose, pausing for a moment. “Sophie made me ice cream. I don’t want her to think I forgot about her.”