Page 84 of Dead Men Tell No Shells

We sat quietly for a little while, neither of us mentioning that the cruise would have to wait until she got out of prison years from now, most likely. I took a deep breath, catching hold of my composure once more.

Sylvester had settled more heavily across Josiah’s lap, purring as though he approved of the conversation’s conclusion. Josiah stroked the cat’s back, and I watched the movement of his hand, the easy gentleness of it. I had missed so many things about him over the years: his laugh, his steadiness, the way he listened when I spoke. I had also spent a long time learning how to live without them.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “For the way I left things between us. For making decisions without giving you the chance to understand what was happening. I know I can’t make sixteen years disappear, and I don’t expect you to trust me just because I’ve finally told you the truth and we’ve been getting along.”

I looked at him. The words were quiet, without any attempt to rush me into forgiveness or turn his apology into a request for reassurance.

“I know,” I said. “And I’m not ready to pretend everything is fixed. But I do see that you’re trying, Josiah. You’re telling me things instead of deciding what I can handle. You’re letting me make my own choices. That matters.”

“I want to keep doing that. I want you to know you can ask me questions, and I’ll answer them honestly. I want to earn your trust, even if it takes a long time.”

I believed that he meant it. That didn’t mean I could forget how it had felt when he left, or that I would never be afraid of losing him again. Trust would have to grow through ordinary days, through difficult conversations, through the times when honesty was uncomfortable and the easier option would be to keep quiet. It would take consistency, patience, and a willingness from both of us to say what we needed rather than assume the other person would somehow know.

But for the first time in years, I could see a way forward that didn’t require me to abandon the life I had built or deny the hurt I had carried. I could let Josiah closer a little at a time. I could give us a chance without pretending there were guarantees.

He glanced at the empty cake plate. “I should probably get going. It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to keep you from your writing.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything.”

“I’m glad.” He hesitated, then looked at me with a softness that made my chest ache. “I’ve missed this. Sitting with you, talking about the day, being somewhere I can just be myself. I’ve missed you, Max.”

The words settled between us easily. I could have made a joke, or changed the subject, or protected myself by pretending they didn’t affect me. But instead, I let myself look at him and acknowledge what I had known for a long time.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

He stood, and I rose with him. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he reached for my hand, giving me every opportunity to step away, and I chose to stay. His fingers closed gently around mine, warm and familiar. When he leaned closer, he paused just long enough for me to understand that I could say no.

I lifted my face to his.

The kiss was soft and brief, more a promise of possibility than a declaration that everything between us had been repaired. It held no demand, no assumption that one tender moment could erase the past. When we drew apart, Josiah kept his hand around mine, his expression careful and hopeful.

I smiled. “You know, we have Sunday dinner every week. We take turns hosting, and I’m sure Tammy and Ricky would be glad to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“You’ve missed a few.”

“I know. I’d like to make it a habit again, if they’ll have me.”

“They will.” I squeezed his hand. “We’ve missed you.”

I meant all of us, but I also meant myself. I wanted him to understand that I was inviting him back into the ordinary parts of my life, not promising that the hard parts were behind us. There would be time for the rest, if we were both willing to keep showing up.

Josiah’s smile grew warmer. “Then I’ll see you Sunday.”

“It’s at Ricky's this next time. Call me if you need the address.”

He kissed my cheek before letting go of my hand and heading for the door. I followed him onto the porch and stood there while he walked to his car. He turned once to look back at me, and I lifted a hand in farewell. Then he got in and drove away.

I didn’t move until his taillights disappeared at the end of the street. The evening air was cool against my face, and I could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the neighboring yards. For once, I wasn’t trying to decide what the future would demand of me. I was letting myself be glad that Josiah had come, that we had talked honestly, and that I had chosen to kiss him rather than hide behind my fears.

Sylvester appeared beside me, winding around my ankles as though he had been waiting patiently for the human portion of the evening to conclude. I bent to scoop him up, and he settled against my chest with a rumbling purr.

“Come on, let’s clear away those mugs and that cake plate. Willow’s Cafe can wait until tomorrow.”

I carried him back inside and closed the door, still smiling softly. There were no guarantees, and there was still work to do, both in the case and in my own heart. But I no longer felt as though I was standing at the edge of something I was bound to lose.

I smiled softly, hope truly alive in my heart.