Page 53 of Strike A Chord

A single tear rolled down his cheek and I kissed it away. “Please, Reagan. Make me forget.”

I only hoped and prayed I had the power to do just that. If not, this could turn into an epic failure and only further set his healing back.

As I pressed forward, Josh kept his eyes on mine, seeing only me. Once I was fully seated inside him, I held still. He needed time to adjust both physically and mentally. I brushed the hair from his face and gently kissed him. “How are you doing, my love?”

He took a moment to reply. “I’m good. We can, um, keep going?”

“Was that a question or are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I promise, I’m okay.”

With his assurance, I pulled nearly all the way out and thrust back inside. The feels, the culmination of us coming together in this light had my tears matching his. My goal was to please my man, replace his pain with pleasure and make it so he only saw me and how happy we were. Positive moments, making love, so deeply embedded in one another there was no beginning nor an end.

“There!” Josh’s hips raised as I thrust back in at the same angle to hit his prostate again. His lust-filled eyes on mine, I now knew he only saw me. No dark memories, only the pleasure I gave him. I could almost see the change as it occurred, though once he slept that would be the true test. Firmly, I took his cock in hand, jacking it in tune with the thrust of my hips until it took him over the edge and my name ghosted across his lips as he came. “Reagan.”

His muscles clenched around my cock and pulled me over the apex with him. As we came down from our euphoric eye, I continued to press tender kisses to his skin. There we lay in a sweaty heap, holding each other and basking in the moment. As I raised above Reagan to dispose of the condom and clean us up, I glanced down at him. His eyes were closed, and he had the serenest look on his handsome face. To think that I was the one who put that there was nothing short of amazing.

Gods, I was crazy for this man.

Chapter Twenty-One

Josh

“Hey, Reagan,” the house was a fucking mess. Our shit was in boxes stacked everywhere, but I didn’t want to complain and sound ungrateful. Reagan had been handling a million things while I was on the road.

On the road.

Whoever thought I’d be able to use those words? My life had come full circle, wishes fulfilled, and my faith and hope in humanity and being loved was restored. Long gone was grouchy Josh, replaced with a stupidly happy and in love new and improved version. The very one who refused to get mad about the house piled full of boxes.

“Yeah? Where are you?”

“Somewhere between cardboard road and packing tape avenue.” Basically, the middle of the living room. Thankfully, Katie’s tiny home was well underway and would be done by the end of week. How they got the plans rushed through for that I’d never know but they knocked those tiny homes out in no time.

“Smartass. Meet me at the car, we’re going out.” Reagan’s frustration was clear in his voice. Not with me but with the disaster our home had become. “How many more weeks of this do we have?” I asked as soon as we buckled in. I’d only been home for a day, so I had no right to complain.

“Six to eight weeks. Did you walk through Mom’s house?” Mom’s house, I loved that she insisted I called her that now. It felt right and like another piece of the puzzle of my life slid into place.

“Only through the kitchen window, I didn’t want to bother the guys working.”

“The plans are on the kitchen table. If you find it feel free to check them out.” Well, at least Reagan was joking about it now. We were still in his childhood bedroom while they got to work on what was Mom’s office and bedroom space. I guess she’d been crashing on the couch this last week. Our current bedroom would be turned into a guest room.

“Why doesn’t Mom take our bed and we get a hotel room? I feel bad she’s on the couch. Better yet, why don’t we put her up in a nice, quiet hotel room that she can work from until they’re done?” There, that sounded much better.

“Good idea. Let’s do that while we’re out. First, I want to take you somewhere.”

I was along for the ride and good to go with wherever Reagan took me, but when we pulled up to Tacoma National Cemetery, I didn’t know what to think. “A cemetery? Kind of an odd date place, don’t you think?”

“Yes and no. Come on.” Reagan hopped out and came around to my side. Once I was out, he took me by the hand and led me through rows of graves. “So, I’ve been doing some digging.”

I glanced around, expecting to see a fresh hole. “Here?”

“Ha-ha, yes and not in the literal sense. I’ve been hoping to help you more with your healing journey and poked around to see what I could find out about your father. This will sound wrong but the good news is he’s dead. The bad news is I don’t believe he’s your biological father.”

My steps faltered as I tripped over uneven ground. “Um, what?”

Reagan stopped and pointed down to a basic grave marker with his name on it. “What he told you about your mother was true, but she left you at the hospital, not with him.”

“Then how did I end up with him?”

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