THE HOUR WAS growing late, and Josiah knew that he needed to head back to his hotel in Stone Mountain, but he wasn’t ready to leave. He’d spent a total of five hours at Patrice’s apartment, but hardly any of that time had been spent with Patrice alone. He needed some private time with her. Quality private time. Only a couple of days separated today from the day he’d have to head back to North Carolina. The sand in the hourglass was now working against him. It was time to stop playing games. She was just as attracted to him as he was to her. Josiah could feel it in his heart. He could see it in her eyes. He knew that Patrice wouldn’t make the first move though … and she shouldn’t have to. All night he had been prepared to lay the cards on the table, but he couldn’t do it in front of Arielle, and until now, there had been no golden opportunities.

Immediately after they topped off dinner with ice cream and peach cobbler, Josiah, Patrice, and Arielle spent some time playing Go Fish. It was Arielle’s favorite card game, and when she asked him to play with her, Josiah couldn’t say no. Somewhere along the way, little Miss Arielle had managed to wrap him around her little finger. Disappointing her wasn’t an option. The three of them played until Arielle could barely keep her eyes open.

Even then—heavy eyelids and all—she insisted that she wasn’t sleepy. Patrice told her that it was time for bed, but when the child looked at Josiah with those big, gorgeous, brown eyes of hers, he rescued her, asking Patrice to let her stay up just a little longer. As badly as he wanted some one-on-one time with the mother in the equation, Josiah couldn’t deny the daughter her wish. He was falling in love fast—with both of them.

Shrek 2, the 2002 animated blockbuster film, had finally done the trick. The movie was a favorite of Arielle’s too, but fatigue won the battle, and with her giant turtle in her arms, she fell asleep in Josiah’s lap as they sat on the sofa watching it together. When Patrice scooped her up to carry her to her bed, Josiah had walked outside the apartment building for some fresh air… and to pray. He was nervous; sure of himself and unsure of himself at the same time. He needed some divine strength for the leap of faith that he was about to take. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if…?

He stopped himself. He’d gone down that winding trail of doubt with Bishop Lumpkin when he was searching for excuses not to come to Atlanta in the first place. If his reconnection with his foster family had taught him only one thing, it was not to doubt God—or the power of prayer.

As Josiah sat on the bottom step of the stairway that adjoined Patrice’s second floor abode with the apartments beneath it, he closed his eyes. “Lord, please give me the right words to say.” His words were barely a whisper in the wind. He would have said more had he not heard the front door of Patrice’s upstairs apartment open and close. Her descent of the steps was silent, and he understood why when he saw her bare feet come to a stop on the step that he sat on. Her new pedicure tempted him to touch her freshly polished toes, but he wouldn’t dare be so bold. Not tonight anyway. With unsettled nerves, he rubbed his jaw line, grazing his five o’clock shadow.

“Hi.” Patrice took one more step, and then smoothed down the back of her dress before sitting beside him.

A passing breeze fanned her famed floral scent up his nostrils, and Josiah savored it. “Hi.” He scooted over just enough to give her ample space. He could feel straying hairs tickle the side of his face. Josiah had the night breeze to thank for that too. “I like your dress.” He would have said that earlier if Arielle hadn’t been in the room. It just didn’t seem appropriate to say it in front of her. Especially since it was the fit of the dress that he liked most. It hugged her curves perfectly.

Patrice smiled her gratitude, and then backed it with a bashful “Thanks.”

“Arielle all tucked away?”

She turned her eyes to the stars, scanning them like she was looking for the Big Dipper. “Yeah. She’s out like a light. I don’t know why she pretended not to be sleepy.” A soft giggle escaped her lips. “She almost fell asleep in the middle of saying she wasn’t sleepy.”

“She’s a great kid.” Josiah searched the side of Patrice’s face while he searched for the words that he really wanted to say. He wanted her to look at him, but she continued to scope the heavens.

“Thanks. She thinks you’re great too.”

“And you?” Even the evening darkness couldn’t hide her coyness. Josiah was probably making her uncomfortable, but he needed an answer. “What do you think about me?” he pressed.

Patrice used nervous fingers to comb through her hair. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Peaches.” Josiah placed his index finger under her chin and forced her to face him. He noticed how she often made an effort to avoid his eyes, but tonight, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “Tell me. Please.”

Blinking in quick succession, Patrice moved her face away from his hand and stood. She took a few steps back, and then looked around like she was afraid that one of her neighbors might be eavesdropping. Josiah started to stand with her, but changed his mind. He didn’t want her to feel coerced, and he definitely didn’t want this to turn into a repeat of Stone Mountain Park. Looking up at her, Josiah struggled to give her the time she needed. Patience may have been a virtue, but it sure wasn’t easy.

“What do you feel?” When Patrice finally spoke, she answered his question with a question, placing the ball back in his corner.

Josiah knew that he needed to choose his words carefully, but quite frankly, he didn’t know how to do that. Not when it came to Patrice. “I don’t want to be your brother anymore,” he confessed. “I want to be more. What I’m feeling for you is … well, let’s just say it’s not sibling-like in the least bit. Fifteen years of absence didn’t change how I felt about Mama and Dad, and it didn’t change the way I felt about Sammy. But you.” He paused, but barely. “Everything has changed. Fifteen years ago, you felt like my bona fide big sister, but that’s not what you feel like now. It’s not even close.” The words skated out of Josiah’s mouth like a landslide.

With every sentence, Patrice was putting more space between them. It wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. He wanted to reach out to her and draw her closer to him, let her know everything was going to be all right. But that was something she had to know for herself. He couldn’t make her see it.

Patrice kept backing up until she couldn’t retreat any farther. When she came to a stop, her back rested against the wooden railing that separated the lower level from the lawn. Josiah didn’t know what to make of her recoil. He carefully released a lung full of air, afraid that if he breathed too hard, she’d scatter like the seeds of a dandelion.

Quiet reigned for what felt like forever before she finally managed to say, “Fifteen years is a long time.”

What was that supposed to mean? Josiah wondered. Was she saying that the years had changed her feelings too? He didn’t want to read more into it than was there, but Josiah couldn’t help but be hopeful. Hopeful and excited. His heart raced within the walls of his chest, and he wanted to ask her for clarification.

Patrice almost became one with the railing when Josiah finally rose to his feet and began approaching her. It was so quiet that the soles of his shoes sounded like a hammer tapping in a deliberate tempo against the wooden floor beneath him. Patrice’s hands gripped the railing with such firmness that he could see her knuckles turn white under the moonlit skies. Josiah reached out and gently pried her fingers loose from the banister, careful not to make her get a splinter in the process. He held her hands in his and felt her trembling. He wanted to pick up where he left off in the park; latch his lips on to hers, but Josiah thought it was best to take a slower route. He’d learned his lesson the first time.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he challenged. “Why are you shaking? What are you’re afraid of?”

“You.” Unlike her earlier response, this one was quick. And it caught Josiah off guard. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her.

“Me?” He needed an explanation. Did she think he was capable of doing to her what Bo had done? Rape victims were known to have long-term issues like that. “You’re not afraid of me, Peaches. Please tell me that you’re not afraid of me.”

“Yes, I am. Not afraid as in frightened. I’m afraid as in terrified.”

“Oh well, that makes it a lot better.” Josiah tried to laugh, but he wasn’t yet sure that it was a laughing matter. What was she trying to tell him?

“Aren’t you terrified?” Patrice asked. Her eyes were waxed with concern. “We were raised as siblings, JT. Doesn’t it scare you to have these kinds of feelings for me?”

These kinds of feelings for me. Josiah swallowed the bitterness of her words. She didn’t ask, ‘Doesn’t it scare you that we have these kinds of feelings for each other.’ Patrice’s choice of words indicated that this whole deal was a lopsided one. Still, Josiah wasn’t ready to give up. He hadn’t made it this far in life by being a quitter. All of his life, challenges had only made him stronger, more determined. This one was no different.

He responded with a slow nod, and then said, “It did at first. When I was denying what I felt, it did. And when I was in a place where I couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that we aren’t actual brother and sister, it did. But now … no, I’m not scared. I’m not terrified. At least, not about what’s going on in here.” He tapped the left side of his chest. “The only fear I have now is that you won’t be able to separate what we were fifteen years ago from what we are today.” Josiah added emphasis every time he said the word we. He didn’t care what Patrice said; he didn’t believe for a minute that she didn’t share his feelings. He’d seen the way she looked at him; he’d felt the way she touched him; he’d tasted the way she’d kissed him. “If you can’t separate our past from our present, Peaches, then there can’t be an us. And I really would like there to be an us. I believe you want there to be an us too.” Josiah took a breath, feeling a bit more confident. He released her hands and brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. Once again, he pleaded with her. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Peaches. Can we be something more?”

Seconds turned into minutes. Or at least it felt that way to Josiah.

Patrice began shaking her head slowly, and the elongated silence that followed was riotous. It said what she couldn’t get her lips to express, and Josiah’s heart sank in spite of his hopes. Feeling that she’d made her choice, he stepped away from her and shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He didn’t like what he had heard… or hadn’t heard, but Josiah was determined to be a man about it.

“It’s okay, Peaches. I understand.” He didn’t mean a word of it, but it was the only way to save face. He’d taken a huge risk and lost, but he couldn’t let her see his metaphoric emasculation.

She continued to stare at him in silence. Not in his eyes. She was avoiding them again. If Patrice’s eyes were drills, they would have bored a hole in his chest. Josiah couldn’t take it anymore; he could feel his countenance falling, and if she noticed it, it would be a dead giveaway that his soul was withering under the drought of her quiet rejection.

“I’m gonna get ready to go,” he whispered. “I’ll be here for another couple of days, so I’m sure … I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” He took several steps backward, praying that Patrice would snap out of her trance and say something to stop his exit, but she continued to shatter his eardrums with her silence. Sighing, Josiah turned on his heels, and then headed down the steps that led to the parking lot.

In the darkness of his car, he took a moment to look at the space where he’d just been. Patrice was still there. She hadn’t budged. Her back faced him now. Josiah wanted her to go inside. Leaving her out on the porch at this time of night just didn’t seem gentlemanly, but what could he do? His pride had been stripped naked, and right now, he didn’t have enough confidence in himself to go back to her and insist that she return to the security of her apartment. Josiah couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so inadequate. Nothing like the silent rejection of a woman to put things into perspective.

The drive to Patrice’s house seemed a whole lot shorter than the ride back to Stone Mountain. Josiah rarely drove with his windows down, but tonight, he needed to. The night air offered just enough consolation to keep him from jumping on to the highway and heading back to North Carolina. Everything in his hotel room could be replaced. Leaving it all behind might help to erase the sting of his ousting.

Josiah nodded a greeting toward the unfamiliar man who stood behind the front desk of the hotel as he entered. The elevator ride to the third floor was brief and uneventful. Every step that brought him closer to his suite was heavier than the one before it. Fatigue, embarrassment, disappointment, hurt, misery… all of it was beginning to mount. By the time he slid the card key in his door, Josiah felt like he had run the Peachtree Road Race, carrying Mickey Colt or some other overweight executive on his shoulder.

He began the task of pulling the hotel linen off of the bed so that he could replace it with his own. When his phone began vibrating, the time couldn’t have been worse. Then again, maybe it couldn’t have been better. Josiah needed a distraction. He looked at the caller ID and a weak smile appeared on his face. If anybody could lighten his mood, Craig could. Josiah pressed the button on the Bluetooth that was still attached to his ear from the ride back to the hotel. Before he could say anything, Craig spoke up.

“Hey, JT. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Josiah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh? What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

Craig sighed like Josiah’s ignorance had brought him relief. “Oh … nothing. I was just wondering.”

The explanation didn’t make sense to Josiah. “Why would you just out-of-the-blue suddenly wonder if everything was all right? Did you have some kind of nightmare or something?”

Silence.

“Craig?” Josiah stopped stripping away the covers and stood still on the floor at the foot of his bed. “Craig?” he repeated.

“I’m here,” his friend answered. “I may have said something I shouldn’t have said. Maybe you weren’t supposed to know anything. I don’t know …”

When Craig’s voice trailed, Josiah jumped in. “Know what? Don’t play with me, Craig. Tell me what’s going on. Has something happened at MacGyver? Did somebody break into my house? What?”

“No no no. Nothing like that.” Craig hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered. “It’s Patrice.”

Josiah’s heart slammed against his chest. He’d just left Patrice. She was fine when he pulled away from her apartment complex. His heart pounded even harder when he thought about his bruised pride and how he had allowed it to stop him from making sure she made it in the apartment safely. It was nighttime. He knew better than to leave her outside alone while her daughter slept inside. No doubt, Patrice had left the door unlocked while she talked to him outside. If some criminal had seen her there alone and attacked her, and then went into the house and violated Arielle, Josiah didn’t know how he would live with himself. He wanted to pump Craig for more information, but as long as he didn’t know what had happened, he could pretend that all was well.

“Do you know why she called Dani?” Craig asked when the thick silence lingered.

Called Dani? The words brought mobility back to Josiah’s legs. Patrice called Danielle. That was way better news than what his mind had begun thinking. But why did Craig think the call was a cause of concern? “She called Danielle? When?”

“Right now,” Craig whispered. “We were sitting here watching one of these crazy Tyler Perry plays on DVD when Dani’s phone rang. She answered and was talking for a minute, and then she asked me to excuse her. While she was walking down the hall into the bedroom, I heard her say, ‘Don’t cry, Patrice. It’s gonna be okay.’ Then right before she closed the bedroom door, she said, ‘So where is JT now?’”

“Oh.” It was all Josiah could say. Apparently Patrice was confiding in Danielle. He wondered how much of what had gone on over the past couple of days had been made known to his best friend’s fiancée.

“What’s going on, JT?” Craig asked. “Has something happened since the last time we spoke that you haven’t told me about?”

Josiah sighed. “I just left her house. We—”

“I gotta go,” Craig cut in. “Dani’s coming back. If I can find out what’s up, I’ll call you right back.”

Josiah pulled the Bluetooth from his ear when the call disconnected and placed it on the nightstand along with his phone. Just as well. He didn’t really feel like talking about it anyway. By the time he finished removing the hotel covers and replacing them with the ones he’d brought from home, he was tired. Being compulsive—or anal, as his mother used to call it—was sometimes exhausting. Josiah pulled his car keys out of his pants pocket and tossed them on the bed. Then he stepped out of his shoes and turned on the television, increasing the volume. He didn’t want to watch anything; he just needed to rid the room of the excruciating silence, and in the process, he hoped to drown out the strong desire he had to pick up the phone and call Patrice. He hated knowing that she was crying. Not knowing why she was crying was even more maddening. Did it have something to do with him?

His phone vibrated again. Craig must have found out from Danielle why Patrice was in tears. Josiah hovered over the night-stand and looked at the caller ID on his cell screen. When he saw the name that illuminated, he scrambled for his earpiece.

“Peaches?”

“Did you know that they used to be foster siblings?”

Patrice’s abrupt words dazed him. “What? Who?” was the only reply Josiah could readily offer.

She sniffled and her voice trembled like she was still crying. “Daddy told me yesterday. He said that he and Mama were foster children. For about two years, they lived in the same foster home.”

Foster home? Josiah wondered how he could have lived with the Smiths for so long and never have known that Thomas and Joanne had grown up in the care of the state. Through the phone, Patrice must have seen the lines of confusion that were etched on his face.

“I know,” she said. “That’s the same way I felt when he told me about it.” She went on to share the full unbelievable story with Josiah, and in case he still didn’t believe her, she concluded with, “True story. If you want the firsthand version, you can ask Daddy yourself.”

Josiah didn’t even know what to say. He sank onto his mattress and smoothed his hands over his bald head. “I wonder why they hadn’t told any of us this before now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t feel a need to until that moment.”

Josiah’s back stiffened. “What need pulled it out of him last night? What made him open up like that?” He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but Josiah had a gut feeling that he already knew the answer. For good measure, he rephrased the question for a third time. “Why did Dad tell you about this, Peaches?”

“I …” She stopped, and then started again. “He knows what happened in the park. I told him everything.”

Just as he’d thought. Josiah remembered that even as little children, Patrice would be the one to break down and tattle first. But maybe this time it was for the best. No sense in hiding it from their foster parents. Josiah wondered what Thomas and Joanne thought of him now that they knew what happened between him and Patrice, but what they thought of him wasn’t his greatest concern.

Last try.

“Peaches.” He closed his eyes. “How do you feel about me?”

This time he didn’t have to wait long for a response.

“I know it’s asking a lot,” she started, “but can you … can you come back over? We can talk about it when you get here.”

Thoughts—some righteous, some not—streamed through Josiah’s head. He reached for the keys he’d earlier tossed on his bed, and at the same time replied, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”