Ginger winked at me before walking back to the bar.
“Ginger,” I called after her. She stopped, her hand on the door as she turned around. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
Her smile grew, and she nodded before disappearing inside the bar. I slid into the driver side, looking to my right. Josh had already leaned his seat back, his arm thrown over his eyes.
I leaned over, covering him with his hoodie.
He peeked at me with one eye. “I wish I didn’t feel like shit. I so want to hold you right now.”
“Shower and toothpaste first, then I’ll think about it,” I said, pulling the gear into drive.
Josh reached over, feeling blindly until he found my hand and then squeezed. “Thank God,” he whispered, pure relief in his voice. “Thank God.”
It had been seven weeks and four days since I thought I was going to lose the one person in the world who saw me—the real me.
That moment was enough to make me realize I should definitely never take eight shots of hard liquor on an empty stomach, but more importantly, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this girl.
I wanted to prove I was serious and committed to her, but I knew it would take more than a penny, even though since the second she’d put it back on, she’d cherished that necklace as if it were one of the queen’s jewels.
“I can’t believe you’re going to propose, man.” Quinn glanced over at me from the driver seat of the ambulance with a grin on his face.
“Like you haven’t thought about it,” I shot back. The wagon rocked back and forth after Quinn hit a pothole too fast, and I reached for the overhead handle.
“What Deb and I have is different.”
“Judging by that weird fucking swing she had you put in your bedroom, I’d have to agree with you.”
We laughed, but it did little to settle my nerves as the diamond ring I’d picked out for Avery burned a hole in my pocket.
I’d never pictured myself settling down with anyone, but now it felt like the world would crash and burn around me if she didn’t say yes. Why was I so scared?
Quinn’s expression turned serious. “Can I ask you something? Something you may not like?”
I frowned. “Sure.”
“What’s your hurry, brother? It’s been what … six months?”
“I don’t know. It’s like an itch in a place I can’t quite reach. It’s this vague worry in the back of my head. It’s always there.”
“Like what?” Quinn asked, his nose wrinkling.
“That if I don’t nail this down, she’s going to disappear. Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed with her, I feel like she’s there, but she’s not. Like it’s literally too good to be true.”
“That’s just your insecurities talking, man. Avery is in love with you. She sees how much you’ve changed. She knows you think this is something special.”
I shook my head. “That’s not it, Quinn. I know she loves me. I’m not worried about her.”
“Then what?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Like something’s just on the edge, waiting to fuck things up. Something out of my control.”
“You can quit worrying, Josh. We control nothing.”
I grimaced. “You’re not making me feel any better.”
Quinn took one hand off the wheel and slapped my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. She’s going to say yes and you’ll live happily ever after.”
“Hey,” I said, pulling his hand off me. “Keep your hand on the wheel.”
He sighed and shook his head. “It’s already started.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m your first partner, so I get why you don’t see it. See, the guys start out here, and they inevitably find a serious girlfriend, because—” he popped his collar “—the uniform gets ‘em wet.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Then the worry starts. They quit running toward the burning cars, they start wearing their seat belt, they start saying * things like ‘Keep your eyes on the road, Quinn,’” he said, lowering his voice. “Like before you got engaged or had a kid you didn’t have anything to live for.”