Page 196 of Daddy's Pride
“How’s your shop been doing?” he asked.
Josiah cringed. “Not so good.”
“What happened?”
“I was…” He made a helpless gesture. “I haven’t even opened my email in, like, two weeks.”
“How about you start tackling that after breakfast while I clean some more?”
Josiah bit his lip. “I can’t… You don’t have to do this. It’s my mess. I should fix it.”
“What if I want to help you? What if nothing would make me happier right now than taking care of you?”
Josiah swallowed. “Is that the truth? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
Brody took his hand. “I’ve hurt you with how I left, and I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for that. But I haven’t lied to you. I may not have told you the truth, but I didn’t lie. And I promise going forward, I’ll always be honest with you.”
“So you mean it? Everything you said?”
“About missing you and wanting another chance? Yes. With all my heart. And I do want to help you get back on your feet.”
“Even if that includes cleaning up my mess?”
“You mean the mess I caused? This is all on me, baby boy, so yes, let me help fix what I broke. I want you to trust me and lean on me.”
Josiah slowly chewed, then nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, Brody collected the breakfast dishes while Josiah sat at the small kitchen table, his laptop open before him, the blue glow reflecting in his wide eyes as he scrolled through his messages. “I have over two hundred emails to answer. Where do I even start?”
“I’d begin with the oldest messages and work my way up. If they placed an order, you’ll have to process them in the correct order.”
“Right.” Josiah took a deep breath and dove in.
The bedroom was littered with fabric and things Josiah used to make his creations, but also with heaps of clothes carelessly thrown onto the floor, stacks of books, and junk everywhere. Brody set to work, gathering discarded clothes and throwing them into a hamper, aligning shoes by the closet. He’d have to run a few loads of laundry. Maybe he should make a grocery list and get some fresh food. Lord knew he couldn’t eat another omelet for lunch.
As Brody hauled trash from Josiah’s room, wincing at the smell, Josiah’s fingers tapped rapidly.
“How’s it going?” Brody filled a bucket with soapy water in the kitchen.
“Slow. How do I explain the delay without lying?”
“Just say that personal circumstances forced you to take some time off but that you’re back now and will do your best to catch up on orders as quickly as possible.”
“Personal circumstances.” Josiah typed something. “I like that. It’s not a lie, but it’s also not oversharing.”
“Exactly. It’s so broad it covers a wide range of stuff, but it’s also hard to argue with.”
As he organized, Brody learned more about Josiah—the books on his nightstand whispered tales of late-night crime show marathons, and the care with which he preserved his crafting tools spoke of dedication and passion. The half-finished purses on his sewing table were extraordinary, showing his creativity and expertise.
Every so many minutes, he checked in with Josiah. The tension that had carved lines into his pretty face ebbed away with each resolved query.
Brody fluffed pillows, swept away dust, and opened a window to invite fresh air to swirl through the room, chasing away any lingering smells. When he stepped back, the transformation was clear. The room now held the same warmth and comfort Brody hoped to bring to Josiah’s life.
He returned to the kitchen. Josiah was stretching, the weight visibly lifted from his slender shoulders.
“Come see your room.” Brody beckoned, a quiet pride swelling in his chest.