Page 193 of Daddy's Pride
The question hung in the air, heavy and expectant. Brody gazed at him as if searching for an answer in the hollows beneath his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.
“I’ve just been”—Josiah struggled to find words that wouldn’t betray the mess inside him—“busy.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.
“Busy?” Brody gestured at the disarray, his brow furrowed. “This doesn’t look like busy, Josiah. This looks like something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Josiah said too quickly, the defense reflexive. But the flicker of worry in Brody’s eyes broke through his stubborn facade. His walls crumbled, and the truth spilled out. “I haven’t been able to work on anything new. I’ve lost orders. I’ve just been… stuck.”
“Stuck,” Brody repeated softly.
“Look at me. I’m a mess.” A shaky laugh escaped Josiah, but it lacked any humor. “I don’t remember the last time I showered or ate properly.”
“Josiah,” Brody said, his voice firm yet filled with care, “we’re going to fix this. Let’s start with getting you cleaned up and fed. You need it.”
Fix this? As if Brody was gonna hang around long enough for that. “Why are you here?”
Brody took a deep breath, the kind that seemed to pull the room’s stale air into his lungs. “I came because I owe you an explanation… and an apology.” His gaze didn’t waver, even as it collided with Josiah’s. “Ghosting you was wrong, and I regret it every day. I’m so sorry, Josiah. So very sorry, and I wish I could undo what I did. I’m here because I missed you and couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m here because I can’t shake the feeling we have something worth trying for. I’m here to beg you to give me another chance.”
The sincerity in his voice should’ve been comforting, but it only tightened the knot in Josiah’s stomach. He backed away, wrapping his arms defensively around himself as if they could shield him from the past repeating itself. “Another chance?” Josiah scoffed. “To do what? To decide I’m too much trouble again?”
“No.” Brody took a tentative step forward. “I left because I thought it was safer for you, not because you were ever too much. I promise I can explain, but not now. But please, Josiah. I know I made a hurtful mistake, but I’m hoping you can forgive me.”
“Safer?” Josiah laughed darkly. “And what about now? What’s changed, Brody? Sooner or later, you’re going to realize I’m not worth the risk, that I’m too much.”
“Stop that.” Brody’s voice hardened, a command woven into the concern. “I hate that I reinforced that lie and made you believe that’s how I felt. It’s not. You’re not too much for me. You never were.”
Josiah wanted to believe him, wanted to let those words wash over him like a cleansing tide. But self-doubt was a stubborn stain that had set into the fabric of his soul, one not so easily removed. “You’ll only leave again.”
“Look at me.” Brody’s voice softened. “I’m not here to judge you or to walk away again. I’m here because I care, dammit, and because I think we both missed out on something good.”
Josiah buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know…”
Brody’s hand landed on his shoulder, gentle but firm. “Why don’t we park this discussion for later? Right now, you need to shower and eat.”
The order was like a velvet glove masking the steel beneath. Josiah hated that he instinctively responded to it, that his whole being yearned to obey. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I know, but I’m asking you to trust me. This is not about domination. This is about letting me take care of you and give you what you need. This is about you, not me. Please, Josiah, let me help you find your way back.”
Josiah’s mind waged war with itself as he lowered himself onto his bed. Every fiber in his body screamed to resist, to maintain the walls he’d built around his bruised heart, yet the gentle firmness in Brody’s tone chipped away at his defenses. His shoulders slumped as he acknowledged the truth in Brody’s words.
“Fine.” He breathed out, a surrender whispered into the charged air. “I’ll shower.”
“Good.” Brody’s approval was simple, but it carried weight, filling him with a sense of purpose that had been absent for far too long.
He pushed off the bed, his movements slow, as if he waded through molasses on lead feet. Each step toward the bathroom was a battle, an internal struggle between the desire to collapse back into the tangled sheets and the faint, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, Brody’s presence signified the start of something different—something better.
After locking the door behind him, he dropped his clothes on the floor. He turned the knob, letting the water run until steam veiled the mirror, hiding his reflection from view. As he stepped under the spray, the warmth cascaded over him, inviting him to wash away the layers of despair clinging to his skin like a shadow.
His hands shook as he picked up the soap. The scent of lavender—so different from the musty fog that had settled over him—pricked his senses, reminding him of days when self-care was a nonnegotiable ritual. He scrubbed fiercely as if he could peel away the grim residue of his despondency with every stroke against his skin.
“God, how did I let it get this bad?” he muttered, catching a whiff of his scent that had been masked by the staleness of his room. His face heated with shame.
A shower. Something so simple, yet it felt like a step toward reclaiming parts of himself he’d let slip away.
“Josiah?” Brody called, his voice muffled by the door and the water from the shower, yet laced with that same caring firmness. “You okay in there?”
“Yeah. Just give me a minute.”
He’d need more than a minute to make himself presentable again, but it was a start.