Sweet Beginnings

by Melissa McClone

  And she’d lost it.

  Hope wasn’t about to borrow worry, but she wouldn’t justify being blown off by Josh, either. She typed out another text—her third, but who was counting other than her?

  Hope: Haven’t heard from you, so I’m going home.

  Short and sweet.

  No asking if he’d danced too much and his leg was hurting. No asking if he was tired and needed to sleep. No asking if he wanted her to be there and help him.

  Not her job.

  Send the message. If he’d wanted to see you tonight, he would have replied. He would be here.

  Hope hit send.

  The message showed delivered, but no reply came. With a sigh, she removed her shoes from her sore feet and put on flip-flops instead.

  Time to go home.

  Though she doubted she’d be able to sleep.

  * * *

  Josh stood at Hope’s door, feeling like an idiot and a loser. Of course, he was both. She deserved better, but he had no place else to go.

  He rang the doorbell.

  He’d thought he was getting better, stronger, but the temptation was still there. And always would be.

  He’d hadn’t truly grasped that.

  Until tonight.

  Where was Hope? He’d seen her texts. She said she would be home.

  He hit the doorbell again.

  Josh had been told many times that once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. He’d never believed it, even if he said the words. But he realized tonight he would always be an alcoholic.

  Fear flowed through him. Fear of failing himself and those who cared about him.

  Maybe the doorbell was broken.

  He knocked. The frenetic sound echoed the beat of his heart.

  “Who is it?” Hope asked through the closed door.

  “Josh.” His voice sounded strangled.

  The door flew open. Her hurt-filled eyes widened. She wore a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Her fingers gripped the doorknob. “I texted you and waited a half hour.”

  “I’m sorry.” He imagined what she saw in that instant because he felt as if he’d taken ten steps back tonight. He must look a mess.

  Who was he kidding? He was a mess.

  This is who you are.

  Who you might always be.

  No, he didn’t want to settle for that. Josh wanted to be more than a drunk wanting his next drink. If not, he would have stayed at the bar. He wouldn’t have called Rudy. He wouldn’t be here. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Josh didn’t know what else to say.

  Questions filled her gaze, but something else, too. Compassion. She opened the door wider. “Come inside.”

  He released the breath he’d been holding. His steps hesitant, he crossed the threshold slowly, his usual confidence overrun by doubt and uncertainty.

  “Sit.” She motioned to the couch. “Did something happen?”

  Unable to answer, Josh sat. His hands trembled, and he clasped them together. He focused on his breathing—a trick he’d learned during rehab.

  She touched his arm. “Can I get you anything?”

  His throat was Sahara dry. “Water, please.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Hope went into the kitchen. Ice cubes dropped into a glass.

  He’d been so careful up to this point in his recovery. Sure, he’d been around others who drank. He’d passed through the wine section at grocery stores. He’d made it through the reception. He thought he had a better handle on his sobriety.

  But he hadn’t.

  Not even close if he went by tonight.

  She returned with two glasses of water, placed them on the coffee table, and sat next to him. At least she wasn’t keeping her distance. “If you want something to eat, let me know.”

  “Thanks.” He sipped his water. Thirsty or procrastinating, he wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry for barging in on you so late. I was on the phone with Rudy, my sponsor, when you were texting. He’d still be on the phone with me, but I wanted to talk to someone in person. I had nowhere else to go but here. Well, except back to the bar.”

  Hope stiffened. “The bar?”

  “I didn’t drink, but I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to.” Josh scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could wipe away what happened. He’d tried to be the man he wanted to be—a decent man, not a drunk. “I was so tempted I feel like I failed.”

  “You can’t help how you feel, but the fact you’re here and not at the bar means you won.” She held his hand. “How did you end up there in the first place?”

  “I was over on Main Street waiting to hear from you.” He clung to Hope like a lifeline. “One of Dare’s sisters saw me. She asked if I’d help her get two of Dare’s friends, who’d drunk too much, back to their cottage.”

  “So you went in there to help—not to drink.” It wasn’t a question, but the relief in Hope’s voice was clear.

  “Drinking was the last thing on my mind,” he admitted. “But as soon as I entered…”

  The memory of the smells assaulted him.

  “It was like coming home after being away for far too long. I felt as if I belonged. Someone recognized me. Handed me a shot. I held the glass. Smelled the tequila. The adrenaline rush was strong. I’d missed that. More than I realized.”

  “Is this your first time feeling that way?”

  “No, but it’s been a while. I’ve avoided putting myself in situations like this.” He shook his head. “A little voice said ‘it’s only one drink’. Even though I knew it would matter, and I’d never stop with one drink, I held onto that shot glass like it was as necessary to my survival as oxygen. Worse, I was so caught up in myself that Dare’s sister was on her own with the drunks. I was selfish when I should have been selfless. If one of Dare’s friends hadn’t fallen off his stool, I might have downed that shot.”

  Josh squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn’t stop the scene from playing in his mind as if on an endless loop. “I’ve been going to meetings and doing what I’m supposed to do. I thought I was further along in my recovery. I thought I would be different from everyone else. I believed I’d kick this and not be tempted again. But I’m the same as everyone else who has gone through this. Each day is getting better, but it’s still a battle. One I feel I’m losing now.”

  He cradled his head in his hands.

  “Hey.” She wrapped her arm around him. Pulled him closer. “Tonight was hard on you. I get that, but it’ll be okay.”

  Hearing her words made him want to believe them.

  Being with her was what he needed. The sweet scent of her filled his senses. The tension seeped from his body. He relaxed into her.

  “I gave back the drink without taking a sip. We got the two guys to their cottage and left them in the care of one of their friends who wasn’t drunk. As soon as I left, I called Rudy. He talked me off the edge. I headed toward your house. He didn’t want to hang up, but I told him I had a place to go, someone to be with who would listen and help me. You.”

  Hope hugged him. “You did the right thing by not drinking or going back to the bar after you’d left. You called for support and came here.”

  “I’m a wreck.” The words came out rough and raw as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.

  “That’s okay. Staying sober can’t be easy, but you’re doing it.” She let go of him and straightened. “I’m proud of you for coming here, for trusting me to help rather than turning to the bottle. I respect you so much.”

  He wanted to scream stop. She was being too nice to him.

  Josh lowered his gaze to his dress shoes. “I haven’t done anything to earn your pride or respect.”

  His words were hushed. His strength and hope gone, defeated by the knowledge he might not have slipped up tonight, but he would…eventually.

  “Don’t say that.” Her tone was harsh, not what he expected. “The first step to overcoming a problem is admitting you have one. That’s what you did. Do you know how many people can’t do that or e
ven realize there’s an issue? I don’t know what you’re going through, but you’ve been sober since July, right? That’s a big deal. And you’re being way too hard on yourself. Don’t discount what you’ve been doing or how far you’ve come.”

  “I’ll try not to.” Hope was incredible. She grounded him. Made him want to succeed. But she deserved better than him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her closed-mouthed smile spread. “I want to help you, Josh. Whatever you need. Just ask or tell me.”

  His heart pounded. “Being here with you is what I need.”

  “Stay as long as you need to.”

  “Be careful,” he joked. How crazy was it he felt like doing that when a few minutes ago he’d been on the verge of an anxiety attack? But Hope was the reason he felt better. “You might not be able to get rid of me.”

  Josh’s eyes dropped to her lips. The urge to kiss her was growing by the second. Except he wasn’t here for that. He needed her support, not a kiss or anything else, even if he might want that.

  He scooted away. Not far, but enough distance to slow his pulse and lessen the effect of her warmth.

  She angled her body toward him, but kept space between them, somehow knowing it was what he needed. “Tell me more about tonight.”

  He groaned. Maybe she didn’t know what he needed because talking wasn’t it. “I told you already.”

  “Tell me again,” she encouraged. She’d always seemed strong to him but never like now where an inner strength shined inside her for him to see. It captivated and scared him at the same time. “Talk it out so you feel only pride, not shame or embarrassment.”

  He nearly rolled his eyes, but Hope didn’t deserve that. “You sound like my sponsor or my therapist.”

  She shot him a mischievous glance. “Is that good or bad? Before you answer, remember you’re the one who came to me.”

  He half-laughed. “I’m not sure what it is, to be honest, but I’d rather be talking to you than anyone else, even if I wish the subject were different and we were dancing on the beach again.”

  A big smile lit up her face, taking his breath away. “Maybe after talking, we can do something fun. Your leg must be tired. We can relax and watch a movie.”

  “I want to spend time with you tonight.” He kicked off his shoes. “I don’t care what we do.”

  She held his hand. “So talk.”

  Josh did. This time he added how nervous he was to see her tonight, even though he knew she accepted him for who he was. That seemed to please her. He repeated what he’d done after leaving the reception, going more in depth about his walk and what happened when he went into the bar. He left out no detail, and something interesting happened. The more he told Hope, the better he felt. Those icky, I’m-a-loser feelings lessened. He kept talking, and Hope kept listening. Laughter, a few tears, half-a-dozen cookies, and then yawns…

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Oh, boy. Hope’s back ached. Falling asleep on the couch had not been a good idea. Only she wasn’t alone. Her head rested on something warm. A thump-thump sounded in her ear. She blinked open her eyes.

  Light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. She was on the couch curled against Josh. The even sound of his breathing kept her pulse from accelerating into the danger zone. He looked so young and carefree with his eyes closed and the edges of his mouth curved slightly.

  Was he having a good dream?

  Josh deserved one.

  Tentatively, she brushed the hair away from his eyes. The strands were soft against her fingertips when last night everything about him had been hard lines and edges. The devastation written on his face had clawed at her heart. Thinking about it now hurt her stomach.

  She’d been out of her element, not knowing what to say or do while he was upset with himself. So she’d listened and tried to support him. There may have been more she could have done, but Josh looked better this morning. Okay, he was asleep, but still…

  Hope needed to learn more about recovery so she could help Josh. She wanted him in her life. That much had been clear to her when he’d said she was the one he wanted to be with last night.

  I told him I had a place to go, someone to be with who would listen and help me. You.

  His words had nestled deep in her heart. He was there, too. She hadn’t planned to fall for him, but it had happened. She’d found someone who was worth risking her heart on.

  The realization should have terrified her given what she’d gone through with Adam. Except she wasn’t afraid.

  For the first time in two years, fear wasn’t holding her back. She felt… reborn. A second chance at life was waiting for her.

  She stared at Josh, her heart turning to a gooey glob.

  At love, too?

  Time would tell, but Hope didn’t want to run from her feelings, didn’t want to erect a stronger wall around her heart, didn’t want to argue all the reasons this wouldn’t work from the distance to his alcoholism.

  Truth was, she had no idea what he was going through—what he’d gone through—or what that meant for the future. Could they pursue a relationship as more than friends? That was the big question, but no matter the consequences, she wanted to see where this could go. Possibly nowhere, but that was okay. At least she’d know. That was better than living with regret.

  Josh stirred, moving slightly. She straightened so she wasn’t half on top of him. Immediately, she missed his warmth and the feel of him against her.

  Josh opened his eyes. “Hey.”

  He sounded sleepy, but the way his lips slipped into a smile told her today would be a better day.

  Kissing him good morning would be easy, but she wasn’t that brave. Not yet, but soon. She touched his arm instead. “Sleep well?”

  “I’m a little sore from the couch.” His voice was sharper, no longer dreamy, but the desire in his eyes heated her blood. “But I like seeing you first thing in the morning.”

  “Same.” Waking up together should have been all kinds of awkward given the only other man she’d woken up next to had been her ex-husband, but there was none of that. For her, at least. He didn’t seem bothered. Her new awareness of him, however, heightened. “This should feel weirder, right?”

  He nodded. “But it doesn’t.”

  Thank goodness. Hope searched his face for any signs he was still upset with himself. “How are you feeling, other than your back?”

  “Better, stronger.” His voice matched his words. “Thanks to you.”

  So much needed to be said about what she was feeling. She wanted to know his thoughts and wants, and what they would do about what was between them. But she couldn’t organize her jumbled thoughts into something cohesive. She settled on two words. “You’re welcome.”

  Maybe Hope’s lack of knowledge about sobriety made her views about his drinking idealistic. Still, she knew the man who showed up at her door last night wasn’t a failure. Josh might have viewed himself as one, but she saw him as a man doing his best. His struggles might never go away, but he was trying. She couldn’t ask for anything more than that from him.

  And wouldn’t.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “I could eat.”

  Hope liked being able to do something for Josh after all he’d done for her. “Pancakes sound good?”

  “Perfect.” He rose. “I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll set the table.”

  As she stirred the batter, she was struck by how normal this morning felt. How was that possible? She’d only known Josh since Tuesday. What had Paula said?

  Quality over quantity.

  When he returned, she showed him where the plates were, and he set to work. When he moved behind her, his hand brushed her back. Her insides thrummed like a finely tuned violin.

  His smile zinged straight to her heart. “They smell good.”

  “My grandmother’s recipe.”

  Hope hadn’t made breakfast for another man but her brother in two years.
Josh didn’t offer to take over like Von always did. Or tell her she would burn her hand if she weren’t careful like Adam.

  “The real secret to good pancakes or waffles, however, is real maple syrup, not the stuff made with corn syrup.” She poured the batter onto the griddle. “It’s in the fridge along with the butter.”

  Josh put both on the table along with a bottle of orange juice. That reminded her—he wasn’t a coffee drinker. Hope didn’t need to brew a pot. She could survive without a cup as long as he was here.

  She flipped the pancakes. A few minutes later, she had a stack ready to eat and carried the plate to the table where Josh sat.

  “I could get used to this.” He placed a napkin on his lap.

  Hope slid into the chair across from him. “Having breakfast?”

  “With you.”

  The last remaining piece clicked into place. Being with Josh like this was right. He hadn’t said anything about how he felt about her, but the affection in his gaze was clear. Sunday wouldn’t be goodbye. This was the beginning of seeing what they might be together.

  Joy overflowed. “Me, too, with you.”

  They ate in comfortable silence.

  He added another pancake to his plate. “Man, these are delicious. Addictive like…”

  The fork fell from his hand, clattering against his plate. His face paled before scrunching into a look of horror.

  The sudden change in him chilled her to the bone. “Josh?”

  He pushed back from the table. “I-I have to go.”

  “Back to the cottage?” She had no idea what was going on.

  “Home to Berry Lake.” His voice sounded raw like last night, only he looked worse. Like he’d woken up from a nightmare. “This was a mistake. I can’t be here with you. Not like this.”

  His words slammed into her like a runaway train.

  No, this wasn’t happening. Not when she was finally ready to move on and wanted more with him. When everything he’d done told her he wanted the same thing. Everything had seemed… perfect.