Josh faces me. “You better get some shoes on, Becs. I haven’t swept the glass yet.”

“I didn’t know you could do this stuff,” Dad says.

Josh scoffs and finally acknowledges him. “With all due respect, sir. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

*     *     *

“What the hell was that about?” Cordy asks for me.

Dad rubs his hands across his face before sipping on his coffee. “What was what about?”

Grams woke just as Josh was finishing up on the window and he offered to take her for a walk. She’s mobile enough to be able to eat on her own and go to the bathroom, but she still tires easily, so a walk meant him and Tommy on skateboards and her in her chair—something Tommy thought was hilarious. “The Really Wheely Team,” he called them.

Cordy says, “The way Josh spoke to you this morning. That’s not like him. Did you say something to him?”

Dad shrugs. “I may have a had a word with him and I don’t really feel like repeating what all was said, if that’s okay with you.”

I stare incredulously.

“Sweetheart, I just worry about you. That’s all.”

My eyes narrow, and I become unreasonably angry. Not for me. But for Josh. “I don’t care what you said, but whatever it was, you’re wrong. I care about him, Dad. And maybe that’s not enough for you, but he’s going through enough as it is. You need to apologize to him.”

Dad sighs. “Becca. Don’t make a mound out of a molehill.”

I tap my phone again, the words repeated. “I don’t care what you said, but whatever it was, you’re wrong. I care about him, Dad. And maybe that’s not enough for you, but he’s going through enough as it is. You need to apologize to him.”

“You don’t know him like I do. He’s going to carry your words with him long after you leave, long after you realize you regret them. You have to apologize to him, Dad. And soon.”

“What makes you think I regret it?” he asks.

“Because I know you. You’re just like him. You’re hot-headed and you don’t think before you speak. You see everything in one dimension. You know everything. Until someone makes you realize that you don’t.”

He shakes his head as he looks down at me. “You’re wrong, Becca. And he’s right. I’m not like him at all.”

—Joshua—

I don’t know why Martin’s standing at my door, looking into my apartment like he has every right to. “I waited until the lights were out assuming your son was asleep. Is he?”

My jaw clenches, but I nod anyway.

He lifts a six-pack of beers between us. “You owe me nothing, but I’m asking anyway. Just hear me out.”

*     *     *

I should wear a watch. That way I could at least tell you how long I sit at the bottom of the stairs, sipping on a beer offered by a man I might possibly hate. If he’s waiting for me to speak, he’ll be waiting forever. I don’t have forever. Besides, he’s the one who knocked on the door, and if silence is his way of hearing him out, then he has shit backwards.

“You think she could still be in love with you, Josh?”

My mouth opens, but the words are lost and I feel my heart sinking. “She sent me a letter,” I murmur as if it’s somehow going to be enough.

Martin quirks an eyebrow. “A letter?”

“Yeah.”

“What did the letter say?”

I shrug and avoid his gaze. “It’s irrelevant. I don’t know why I said it.”

He sighs. “Are you messing with Becca’s head?”

“No!” I snap.

“I think you are, even if you don’t realize it.”

I suck in a breath and hold it there—in my chest—sitting right next to my battered heart.

After a while, he says, “Becca’s stronger now, Josh. Stronger than she’s ever been.”

I speak quickly, not giving my mind time to think. “If you honestly believe that me existing is making her weak in any way, then I’ll leave her alone.” I roll my shoulders, trying to find courage in my words. “I think, at the end of the day, you and I both want the same things. We want Becca to be happy. Regardless of what Becca’s probably told you, I do love her. I’ve always loved her. From the first moment I saw her until now, I haven’t stopped loving her. I haven’t been able to move on—”