Page 82 of Meant to Be

I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth. “Dip your toes in with me,” I whispered in his ear.

He pulled back, still eyeing me warily.

“Please.”

He finally relented, nodding.

I watched as he toed off his sneakers and socks, then took me by the hand, guiding us both to the water’s edge.

“Oooh, that’s cooold!” I shivered but waded in a little farther, just up to my ankles. I tugged Josh’s hand to bring him closer.

“Mid-August and the water’s still cool.”

“Large bodies of water usually don’t warm up until late August, early September around here. Just in time for summer to end and everyone to pack up their beach bags.”

“What’re you, encyclopedia britannica?” he asked, moving behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. Needless to say, my body instinctively reacted by melting against his chest.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Learned it in my fifth grade social studies class. That lesson stuck with me for some reason.” I shrugged. “Most of the lessons on things I wanted to explore as a kid but couldn’t because I was sick, did. I wanted so bad to go camping as a kid, hike, swim in a lake like this. But my parents were so overwhelmed with my hospital visits, doctors’ appointments, and hovering just to make sure I was okay, we didn’t get to do a lot of that stuff.

“Which was why you never were able to go out to the waterfall with Chels and I.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Right. My parents biggest fear was that I’d be out somewhere and not have the insulin I needed or a snack to even out my sugar levels. There was one time we did go on a hike, my mom, dad, and I. My blood sugar level dropped significantly. My mom had forgotten my extra insulin in the car and freaked out. Though my dad had packed some orange juice, I drank that and my blood sugar normalized, but they were done. My father insisted on carrying me on his back to the car. Though he never said it out loud, in front of me at least, he was pissed at my mom for forgetting. And my mom was just as pissed at herself.”

I wiped a bit of sweat from my forehead.

“Sometimes I don’t know how their marriage survived all of that.” I leaned my head against Josh’s shoulder and lifted one of my legs, splashing the water with my foot.

“Having a sick kid isn’t something I’d wish on any parent.” His voice was so sincere and heavy.

I turned in his arms, placing my arms around his shoulders. And just because his lips looked so delicious I gave him a peck on them. “I imagine it was a lot for them, but you want to know the truth? I think it helped make their marriage stronger.”

He gave me a curious look.

“The way I see it, the illness or death of a child can either do one of two things, bring people closer together or tear them apart. I think my parents got lucky, or were blessed, or something because my being ill allowed them to learn to have to rely on one another. And faith. My mother started going back to church. ’Til this day she swears it was prayer and her long talks with God that healed me.”

“And you? What do you think?”

I shrugged. “I think whatever someone needs to get them through the day. I know it was a lot of medical research and science that healed me but nothing’s wrong with a little bit of faith.”

“Faith, huh?”

I lifted up on my tiptoes to get closer to his eye level. Our faces were just inches apart. “Yeah, faith and good science,” I added.

A darkness moved through his eyes. He was warring with something but his lips wouldn’t reveal what exactly. Instead, he lowered his head and took my lips in a kiss that stole my breath. Just like they always did.

Just as Joshua deepened the kiss, a noise behind us caught his attention. His hold tightened around my waist and he turned to glance over his shoulder.

“Hi.” A young girl who appeared to be about seven waved.

“Suzzie, leave those nice people alone,” a woman I assumed was the girl’s mother scolded. She looked up at us and smiled bashfully before taking her daughter by the hand and moving past us.

“Kid almost got a peep show,” Josh chuckled.

I swatted his chest.

“You hungry?”

“Always.”