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“What is wrong with you?” I mutter to myself as I set my mug on the counter and pour some kibble into Gary’s bowl.

There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever I just did.

Sleep deprivation.

Emotional trauma.

Hormones.

The fact that it’s been a while since I’ve had an orgasm.

I’ve had sex. Wyatt and I were trying to get pregnant. I even traveled to away games with him when I was ovulating just to have sex.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about pleasure.

At least my pleasure.

“How long has it been?” I muse.

I can’t even be sure. I can’t remember the last time Wyatt made a point to get me off. Hell, I haven’t even gotten myself off lately. With the stress of trying and failing to get pregnant, I haven’t exactly been in the mood. Not when I’ve felt like there’s something broken inside of me.

Like I’m broken.

I may not have been able to fulfill my dreams of being a dancer, but I thought I’d be able to fulfill my dreams of having a family.

Being a mother.

I couldn’t even do that.

But as I glance out the window at Joshua again, something sparks inside me.

Something I didn’t think I’d ever feel again after years of hopelessness.

I quickly bury the thought.

This is Joshua.

My brother’s best friend.

The boy I used to babysit.

I continue reminding myself of this as I finish my coffee. As I eat breakfast. As I take a shower.

By the time I’ve gotten dressed, I’ve come to one perfectly reasonable conclusion.

I need to stop spending time on the back deck.

That, or invest in a new vibrator before I make a complete fool of myself.

CHAPTER SIX

JOSHUA

By most people’s standards, my job probably isn’t all that glamorous. I get dirty. Crawl underneath things. Climb ladders. Haul equipment.

But I’ve never been the kind of guy who’d be content sitting behind a desk all day.

Give me a wrench and something to fix, and I’m happy.