If I Could Do It Again (12 page)

Richard didn’t get to me.

He didn’t.

Not even a little.

Joshua isn’t a coldblooded murderer.

I click on another Google headline, this one reading: Who Brings Guns To A Bar Brawl?

Joshua Larson, age twenty-one, has been sentenced to eight years in prison, with an extra four years of extended supervision, after shooting a man during a bar brawl.

I scan through the article, and then use the find function, searching for one word: knife. Nothing. None of the articles mention finding the knife that the other man supposedly had. On the contrary, they all say it was never found.

Returning to my search, I click on another heading: Joshua Larson Receives Maximum Sentence.

And then I click on another: Joshua Larson Beats 1st Degree Murder Charge, But Convicted On Another.

Larson claimed self-defense, although this wasn’t particularly believable. He went to the bar that night wearing his motorcycle gang colors and armed with a .38. This was not a man intending to drink in peace.

God, they’re all the same. The articles all reference his membership in a motorcycle club and the fact that he was wearing his colors. They talk about the victim, though none gives a clear picture of what the fight was even about.

Leaning back in my chair, I click the back button, returning to my search. God, I wish Becca didn’t have to work today. Her house is too … quiet without her here. Nearly as lonely as mine.

It’s a little before ten o’clock in the morning and I’m already tired, exhausted really, and kind of hungry.

I need food.

And a nap.

I should probably go home. I bet Richard is already on a plane by now; he always books morning flights, but sleeping in that house, in the bed that he just shared with another woman, doesn’t sound appealing. Not even a little.

Is it crazy that I’m still missing Joshua even while reading these articles?

Probably.

I’m a goddamn mess.

He’s called twice already this morning, and I’ve ignored them both, but damn it, I feel lonely as hell, missing a man who I’m beginning to think I have no business missing.

“Oh, Google, I thought we were friends,” I mutter to the computer as I scroll through yet another article. “You’re not being a very good friend right now.”

My phone rings for the third time. I glance at it, seeing Joshua’s number flashing across the screen once again. Growing frustrated with my searches and the ringing, I finally answer it, accepting the call.

“My beautiful angel, what are you up to?”

The sound of his voice makes me smile. God, I love the way the sound causes my belly to dip a little.

“Not much,” I say, not wanting to admit that I’ve been googling him for the last few hours. “Sorry I missed your calls this morning.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I figured you’d probably sleep in today after that drive.”

I wish I had slept in.

Silence falls. I don’t respond, because admitting that I was simply ignoring his calls doesn’t sound like a good plan.

“So talk to me, baby girl. Why are you so quiet this morning?”

“Well, Richard’s having an affair,” I say right away. “She was at the house when I got home last night, and he’s taking her to our house in Hawaii for a couple weeks.”

“Baby girl,” he says, his voice turning concerned. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He means it. I can hear the sincerity in his voice. But his soothing tone punctures a hole in me and like a flash flood, all my stress and anxiety and fear comes pouring out.

“He’s going to ruin my life if I don’t stay with him,” I cry. My eyes are burning, tears welling up and leaking out no matter how quickly I try to blink them away. “He’s going to ruin my name and my books and … and …” A sob chokes me and I gasp in a ragged breath. “He’s going to …”

“Baby,” he says gently, cutting me short. “You need to pull it together, okay? Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll figure all this out.”

How? How is it going to be okay?
I want to scream the question, but I don’t. I can’t.

“Okay,” I whisper instead, nodding my head and sniffling. “Okay.”

He’s quiet for a beat, taking a deep breath. “Are you upset he’s cheating?”

“No.” My response is immediate, and perhaps a little too quick to make it believable, but it’s true. I’m not upset about that. I’m … glad. Happy, even. I’m definitely relieved that it’s finally over.

“You sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” I tell him softly.

“Alright,” he says, though his tone tells me he’s still not one-hundred percent sure I’m telling the truth. He pauses for a second, before stating, “I’ve got to tell you, I’m not really surprised he’s pulling this shit. I knew something was going to happen while you were away and with me.”

His statement causes my spine to snap straight and the last of my tears dry up. I frown. “How could you possibly know that?”

I didn’t know. Maybe I’m a fool, but when Richard said I should go and meet Joshua, even if his delivery was malicious and hurtful, I believed he was okay with it. I thought he really wanted me to figure things out.

“Once someone does something once,” he says, “they’re willing to do it again, and Richard has been threatening you in one way or another since you married him.”

Once someone does something once …

No, stop. Don’t even think about that. This isn’t about Joshua. It isn’t.

Oh, who am I kidding?

This is all about Joshua.

I rub my hands roughly across my face. “He told me I have to choose, you or him. And if I don’t stay with him, he’s going to go to the media with my story and ruin my career.”

I wait for Joshua’s response. He sighs long and loud. “Well, beautiful, if he does that, would that really even hurt your career? You’re a romance author that fell in love. Your readers will love it.”

Dammit! Why is he so calm about this?

I shut my eyes, trying to relax my stiff muscles, and take a couple deep breaths. Okay. Maybe he’s on to something here. Would my readers care about this? Is it possible they’d think that a relationship with a convict is romantic? Sexy even?

Possibly.

But my dad …

“He threatened to tell my dad everything so he knows what a little slut I am.”

“Well, I really hope he wouldn’t stoop that low,” he says, and I can hear the scowl in his voice. “Maybe he’s just angry and it’s an empty threat, but would your family really care what he has to say? Your dad raised you, he knows who you are and what you’re like. I don’t think he’d even listen to Richard.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t told him about you.” I laugh once. “I can’t see my dad approving of me writing to someone in prison, let alone me dating someone in prison.”

“I completely understand that,” he says, his voice genuine and not the least bit surprised. “I wouldn’t want my sisters talking to someone in prison nor dating them. But we found love and one of these days, you’re going to have to tell your family, and when you feel like you’re ready to tell them, that’s the time to do it. There’s no rush for anything.”

I shut my eyes once again. How can he be so calm about this? I don’t know, but he sure levels me out. Five minutes on the phone and all of this doesn’t seem that bad.

How the hell does he do it? How does he change me from a sobbing, frazzled ball of nerves to feeling … peaceful?

We’re different, so, so different. Our lives, our personalities. He’s used to violence, confronting his issues head on, where I’m more of the stress quietly type.

And yet, here we are. I’m obsessed with him, and I have a feeling he isn’t too far behind me.

He’s special, I think, and I swear, he was made just for me.

“I wasn’t sleeping in this morning,” I confess. “I ignored your calls because I was Googling you again.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I say shamefully, “Richard got to me last night and well, what if I’m making a mistake with you? What if this is all a huge mistake?”

“What if it’s not?” he prods. “What if you don’t give us your all and this is your one chance to be happy for the rest of your life. You know if you don’t try this with me, if you just stop now, that for the rest of your life you’ll be thinking about the ‘what ifs.’”

He’s right. I know it, feel it, but still …

“They don’t say very nice things about you online. They say you were out looking for a fight, that you aren’t a good man.”

“Beautiful,” he says on a deep exhale, “I’ve told you before, I don’t like you Googling me. Half the things they wrote online are lies. All the media want people to do is read it. It’s not even accurate. You know the real me, baby.”

“Do I?” I ask, my voice dropping as regret tightens my chest. I stare at the computer blankly, suddenly wishing I’d never turned it on.

We had such great visits.

We were happy.

I was happy.

“Baby, you—” He stalls, letting out a sigh. “Of course you do. What you saw over the weekend is exactly who I really am. This isn’t a game to me. I truly love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Silence falls.

It’s long. It’s awkward. I try to break it, but my mouth isn’t working, my voice stuck in my throat.

And then, the one-minute warning sounds.

“I’ll call you right back, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for my response before hanging up. I toss my phone down, waiting for it to ring again.

It does.

Reaching for it, I pick it up and answer the call. I swear the recording takes forever this time, far longer than it ever has before. When I’m finally prompted to accept the call, I do, and then I wait for it to connect.

“I don’t trust you sitting there, living with Richard,” Joshua says right away. “You need to just leave him. Slowly, he’s been getting worse and worse and I’m afraid one day he might do something that you won’t be able to come back from.”

I scoff. “He won’t do anything.”

And I’m ninety-nine percent sure of that. Richard is not the violent type. He yells, he says hurtful things, but he wouldn’t physically hurt me.

It’s just not his style.

“You say that now, baby, but you probably didn’t think he’d threaten to ruin your career if you leave him. Or that he’d call your father and tell him what a whore he thinks you are. So I really don’t think you know him too well, because if you did, you would have seen this coming.”

My stomach knots. “What if I don’t know you as well as I think I do? Everything I saw online … it just … you’re not the sweet guy you show me.”

“Every time you read something online, it’s going to make you question me,” he says, “but deep down in your heart you know that the guy you see is who I am.”

I laugh sharply, my stomach twisting tighter. “I thought I really knew who Richard was, too.”

“But baby, you were never in love with Richard the way you’re in love with me now.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, an angry bite to the words. “So now I’m blinded by love. How can I even trust what I think or feel with you?”

My response makes him chuckle, genuinely amused. “Is that so bad to be in love? People try their whole lives to find what we’ve found together. And yeah, I’m in prison, but one day I won’t be and if we can make it through this, the hardest part of our relationship, the rest of our lives will be easy. These couple years will seem like nothing when we’re ninety years old, lying in bed together.”

I laugh once, twice, three times, and then it just pours out of me, nerves, I think, and it takes a moment for me to stop. “I don’t even want to think about being ninety years old.”

“As long as I’m next to you,” he says, “it doesn’t matter, baby.”

His tone is gentle, and it sends all the longing in me rocketing to my heart. I exhale through my nose, trying to keep my heart from bursting, and ask the question that’s been plaguing me from the start. “Was it really self-defense?”

“You know the answer to that, my love,” he says calmly. “Of course it was. I had no choice.”

“I’m really scared,” I say quietly, feeling inadequate. He’s all man, and I’m probably no more than a helpless, terrified woman to him. “I hate being this scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m scared, too, baby,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper. “But we’re a team. If we stick together and stand by each other, we’ll get through this. That’s all that matters.”

He’s scared? I swallow hard, clutching my phone tighter. I can’t imagine Joshua Larson being scared of anything, but I hope like hell he means that, because dammit if his admittance doesn’t make the butterflies wake up in my belly.

I hesitate. “What am I going to do about Richard?”

“I’m pretty sure the threats are just a scare tactic so you’ll stop talking to me and stay with him,” he says. “But you know you don’t belong with him. You’re extremely unhappy there. He makes you extremely unhappy. I think you should get a lawyer and get ahead of this thing.”

A lawyer, right.

“Right, okay,” I say calmly, squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath. “I need to find a lawyer.”

“And,” he says. “I’d like it if you moved closer to me.”

I blink, surprised. “Really?”

Joshua chuckles. “Really. You belong to me and you know this. I want you closer.”

Holy shit. Did he just say that?

I know I’ve said it before, that he’s asked me to say it, but it was just a sex thing.

I
though
t it was just a sex thing.

My heart races. “Did you just say I belong to you?”

“Yeah, baby, I did and you know you do,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Deep down in your heart you know you belong to me, that you’re meant to be with just me.”

Yes!
I want to scream it, yell it from the rooftops, but somehow I manage to hold it back, instead responding coyly, “Maybe.”

“Just maybe?” He hums. “I don’t even think you believe it, baby. You know you do, so why fight it?”

And then, once again, that damn one-minute warning plays on the line.

“Baby, it’s almost count time,” he says. “I’ll give you a call back as soon as I can. Just know that all I want is a life with you. I want to make you happy. I want to make you smile, feel beautiful and loved every single day of your life. I love you.”