Page 48 of The Puck Decoy

Hates getting her clothes wet.

Crunchy foods are best.

Likes to reread books and rewatch movies.

Collects penguins.

Subtitles on when she is watching TV

There is tab after tab marking countless paragraphs, all with his own little notes added next to them, and it leaves me totally and utterly speechless. It’s then I hear the sound of the shower cutting off, and I rush to put the books back on the shelf in the same position as before, not wanting to be caught snooping. Then I pull the closet door back closed and rush back over to the bed.

I grab the eye mask and ear defenders and pull back the sheets, eyeing the wide open space, and it’s only then I remember the position we found ourselves in the morning after our wedding night. And it’s with that thought in mind that I grab his extra pillows and build a wall between both sides of the bed, until I am satisfied I won’t wake up rubbing all over his dick again.

Then I dive into bed with the new penguin, my mind still baffled about what I just saw in his closet. It’s not just his attention to detail with the things he bought to make it easier for me to sleep here, but everything else too. He has books on autism, on girls with autism, and he doesn’t just have them, he’s read them. He’s read them and tabbed them, and I can only presume it’s for no other reason than to really know and understandme.

We have a great friendship, and I nearly threw it all away by letting him kiss me. That’s the thought that is swimming in my mind when he opens the bathroom door and steps out, the steam surrounding his bare chest, as my eyes dip down to the V in his torso.

I don’t know what’s worse.

The fact he almost kissed me, or the fact I wish he would have.

He moves around the bed, not saying a thing about the additions he acquired, as he tosses his laundry in the basket, and then eyes the wall of pillows with a smirk. “Is that so you don’t violate your husband with your ass again?” he asks, cocking a brow at me.

“No, it’s so you don’t come onto my side of the bed again,” I snap, feeling grateful that we can just seamlessly fall back into our usual routine.

“I thought we established that both sides of the bed are mine,” he purrs, shutting off the light so there is only a soft glow from his lamp, as he climbs in beside me.

Ignoring his manly scent fresh from the shower, I keep my eyes firmly on the ceiling. “Carry on with your sass, and your wife will send you back to the floor with your sleeping bag.”

Josh turns on his side and I can feel his stare on my face from beyond the pillows. “You want me down there on my knees again then all you have to do is ask, Hals, I’ve told you this.”

A smirk threatens to burst across my face as I throw back, “Manwhore.”

“Brat,” he replies

“Asshole,” I toss back.

“Drama queen,” he adds, and I swear I can hear the lightness seeping back into his tone.

I shake my head in delight. “Goodnight, Mr. Peters.”

He reaches over and turns off the lamp as I pull down my mask before he replies, “Goodnight Mrs. Peters.”

And even the deep thump of the bass still blasting below us couldn’t stop me from falling asleep happily tonight.

Silence lingers for I’m not sure how long, but it’s long enough for either of us to fall asleep, until, “Hallie,” he whispers into the dark, and I wish I could pretend I am asleep and ignore him, but I can’t.

“Yeah, Joshua?” I whisper back in the blackness of his room, holding my breath for whatever he is about to say.

“I’m sorry I tried to kiss you,” he tells me earnestly, his apology like a knife to the gut, and I am grateful he waited until now to say it, so the lack of the light can hide my tears.

I take a few slow, quiet breaths, before I finally force lightness into my tone and ask, “You mean tonight, or that day on the rock when we were kids?”

My answer only makes him laugh, one of my favorite sounds in the entire world, as I feel him shrug, “Both, I guess.”

Tears stain my skin as I smile into my pillow, at the fact he is finally admitting trying to kiss me back then, and like an addict unable to quit their much needed fix, I snuggle into the new penguin he bought me and reply gently, “Then I guess I’m sorry for pushing you off that rock.”

He doesn’t respond, and I wait until I hear his breathing even out before I let myself drift off to sleep, and unsurprisingly it’s to dreams of almost kisses, and a boy who has always owned my heart.

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