by Staci Hart
Gia let out a breath and smiled, breaking the tension with the details of paint swatches and curtains before she and Laura entered into a debate about stomach versus back sleeping. Josie ate her meal in silence as the family chatted, and the only real comfort she felt was in the moment her grandmother patted her hand, and they shared a smile.
Dinner eventually ended, and the table was cleared by Liz, who stacked all the dishes in the kitchen for Josie and her grandmother to attack, as they did every Sunday.
Josie leaned against the counter with a towel slung over her shoulder, watching as Gran rolled up her sleeves and buried her weathered hands in the bubbles.
“Don’t be mad at Paul or your mother, Josie.” Gran’s eyes were on her hands as she scrubbed a plate.
“I’m not mad. I’m fine.” Josie thought maybe she’d sounded convincing.
Gran eyed her and dunked the plate in the rinse side of the sink. “You can’t fool me.”
Josie sighed as she took the plate from Gran and ran her towel over it.
Gran picked up another plate and went to work on it. “Your mother believes that a family would satisfy you because that’s where she’s found her joy. She just doesn’t realize how horrible she sounds when she tries to help.”
“I know they mean well, really, but I dread coming over here every week. How can I keep moving forward if everyone keeps bringing up the past?”
“Moving forward, hmm?”
“What? I’m fine,” Josie insisted.
“You keep saying that. When was the last time you went on a date?”
Josie’s lips pressed flat. “That’s not the point.”
“Okay, when was the last time you went out with your girlfriends?” Gran raised an eyebrow and handed Josie another wet plate.
Josie dripped the excess water into the sink. “I…” She had no excuse. “A long time. It just doesn’t feel right anymore. Nothing does.” Not since Jon. Not since Rhodes. Not since Anne.
Gran’s face went soft, though she didn’t make eye contact, just nodded to the bubbles. “When we’re grieving, it feels that way, I know. But I promise, one day, you will wake up and things will be different.”
That was all it took to make the back of her throat burn. She swallowed her tears. “I keep thinking that will happen, but every day is the same.”
“You just have to give it time. You have been through so much over the last few years. You lost your best friend just months ago in a way few could imagine. You lost Jon—” Josie opened her mouth to speak, but Gran cut her off with a look. “And don’t you tell me that he doesn’t mean anything to you, Josephine Campbell, because I will call you a liar.”
Josie shut her mouth.
Gran looked back at her hands as she rinsed a glass. “That kind of pain changes you. I know that for a fact, just as well as I know that you will find happiness again. You don’t live as many years as I have in this world without learning to endure.”
Josie couldn’t find a way to get to that point. She could barely even imagine the possibility of being happy again. “How do you find happiness after so much hurt?”
When their eyes met again, Gran only smiled and said simply, “It’ll find you when the time is right.”
Day 2
DAWN CREPT INTO THE kitchen where Jon sat at his table, writing in his blue spiral notebook. He ripped a page out with a huff and crumpled it up, tossing it next to the other wadded papers strewed on the surface next to a plate of forgotten eggs.
He clicked the butt of his pen a few times before sticking the end in his mouth.
For a month, ever since he’d seen Josie again after moving back to New York, he’d been trying to write the letter, but he’d gotten nowhere. There was so much to say, too much. He could never get the words right, and he’d thrown a hundred letters away that were proof.
Leaving New York years before, leaving Josie, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d spent three years in New Orleans, trying to move on, but he’d only discovered one thing—there was no getting over her.
They had only been dating for a few weeks when everything fell apart, but they’d been friends and colleagues for over a year before that. And when he’d left, he’d lost it all—her friendship, her love. He’d burned it to the ground the second he left town.
But he'd never stopped longing for the days long passed, moments and hours full of content sighs and smiles he’d felt in the depths of his heart. The time when he’d had her was the happiest of his life, as silly as it seemed. But he’d known from the first time he ever saw her that she was the end of the line, and no amount of time or distance could change that.
The day Tori, his ex, had told him she was pregnant, his life had been flung into an emotional washing machine and set to spin. Moving back to New Orleans had seemed like the only option. They’d needed help, needed to save money, and they couldn’t do that in New York.
Getting back together had never been on the table for either of them—they were better apart than together—and if they were ever going to make it on their own with a baby, Tori’d had to finish school and get a degree. She had to quit working, and Jon couldn’t support both of them on an unstable income, living in Manhattan. Her parents lived nearby in Hell’s Kitchen, but there wasn’t room for any of them there. Not to mention, her father flat-out hated Jon. So, they’d moved in with his parents where they could live rent-free and save, survive. Set themselves up for a real future.
Looking back, he knew he’d handled Josie all wrong, but at the time, he hadn’t known what else to do. Everything had been rocked and flipped upside down with the baby—he would be a father; he would have a child—and he’d panicked. He couldn’t have faced Josie to say goodbye, couldn’t have looked into those eyes of hers and told her he was leaving. That he was going to have a child with his ex-girlfriend.
But he had to take care of his family, and to do that, he’d had to leave New York. With two words—I’m pregnant—the future he’d sought had crumbled before his eyes, leaving him to navigate a future he couldn’t even imagine.
And the truth was, he had been afraid.
So, instead of sacking up and facing her, he’d poured his heart, soul, and guts into a letter to Josie. He’d told her everything. Given her the choice and left it in her hands. Told her he’d always be there if she could find a way to forgive him and if she still wanted him.
She’d never called.
For three years, he’d obsessed over her, plagued by imaginings of what she thought of him. He’d figured she despised him for leaving, for the baby, for being a coward. Deep down, he’d hoped that, somehow, he was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t called because she understood why he’d left and accepted it but didn’t want him and didn’t want to talk about it.
It hadn’t stopped him from wishing every day that his phone would ring, and she’d be on the other end, waiting for him.
Part of him had hoped they’d never come back to New York again. He’d hoped he could close the door on that chapter and find a way to start fresh. But New Orleans never grew on Tori, and really, he should have known she would always want to go back home.
The second Tori had gotten her accounting degree, she had been ready to move back. There’d been no talking her out of it, so they’d packed up a moving van like a macho version of Jenga, said goodbye to his family and home, and moved back to New York where all the things he couldn’t forget were waiting for him.
The first time he had seen Josie again was a few weeks after he made it back to Hell’s Kitchen. It was a blustery day in February, and Jon stopped into the Midtown South Precinct to check the bulletin board. The second he walked in the door, he saw Josie standing at the board with her back turned to him, her long red hair unmistakable.
He’d pictured the moment a thousand times and a hundred ways, but nothing compared to seeing her in the flesh, right there, close enough to speak her name and make her turn around so he could see her face.
For a long moment,
he stood there, paralyzed, wondering where the roulette ball would land. The reality of his waiting was upon him, and his stomach ended up somewhere in his shoes as he walked toward her.
Jon stopped behind her and swallowed hard. “Hey, Jo.”
She spun around with disbelief written all over her face. “Jon?”
“Long time.” He smiled, hoping he looked cool as he watched her for a reaction with his heart clanging in his ears.
“Yes, long time,” she said softly, her doe eyes big and wide, like she was caught in a gun scope.
They stood in stunned silence. He didn’t know what to say, just looked over her for a moment before finally finding his wits.
“I—”
“What are you doing here?” It was more of an accusation than a question.
“We just moved back.” He shifted, feeling the anger roll off her.
Everything about her was wound tight—her voice, her face, her body.
“When?”
“Last week.”
“How’s Tori?” The words were bitter, her eyes taut in the corners and cheeks flushed.
“She’s fine,” he said quietly. He wondered if she could hear the apology underneath his words.
If she did, it didn’t seem to faze her.
“Well, that’s just swell.” Her voice climbed just a little, just enough. “And how about your kid? I hope you’re all happy. Super fucking happy.”
She brushed past him, and he stood there, shocked for a second, before trotting after her.
“Wait, Jo.” He caught up with her as she barreled away and almost reached out to touch her. He clenched his fist to stop himself. “Josie, wait.”
She never stopped walking and wouldn’t look at him as she wound her way through the station with him on her heels. Jon fought to keep up with her as she pushed open the station doors.
“Josie, talk to me, please.”
When she reached the bottom of the cement steps in front of the building, she spun around, her whole body tense. “Talk to you? And say what exactly?”
She laughed, though the sound held no joy, and when she put her hands on her hips, he knew he was in deep shit.
“I don’t owe you anything, not after what you did.”
And with that, he had his answer. She did hate him. It was the worst imagined outcome.
“I know you don’t owe me, Jo, but—”
“But what? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through over the last three years? Any idea? I mean, between you and me? Whatever. We dated for a few weeks, which apparently isn’t long enough for you to even break up with me. You just fucking left without a single word. Who does that?”
His brows dropped. “Wait, you didn’t get—”
“And not only did you dump me without having the decency to even tell me it was over, but then I also found out you’d left town with your ex. Your pregnant ex. Tell me, were you fucking her the entire time too?”
“I—”
She threw her hands up. “No, you know what? I don’t want to know. It was humiliating enough to find out from your fucking landlord, who told me the ‘cute couple’ in 4D was expecting and had moved to New Orleans. So, I swung by Tori’s parents’ place, and they confirmed that you had, in fact, knocked her up and split town.”
“Josie,” he said over her, brows drawn, “will you shut up for one second, please?”
Her eyes narrowed, and her cheeks flamed, her voice deadly soft when she said, “Oh, this better be good.”
“You really think I would have left without saying goodbye?” he asked with more bite than he’d meant, shocked and frustrated and confused. “I left you a letter—”
“I’m sorry. A what?” she asked through her teeth.
“A letter,” he huffed, “one that I figure you didn’t get.”
Her chest rose and fell as she stared at him. “A note?” It was almost a whisper. “You dumped me in a note?”
“Yeah, I left it on your—”
He was too shocked to react when she cocked her fist and hooked him in the jaw.
Jon’s ears rang, and he bent over and pressed a hand to his jaw. “Fuck, Josie!”
“Goddamn it, that hurt,” she growled as she shook her hand out. “You’re not even the worst thing to happen to me.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “Anne’s dead.”
He froze, and his hand dropped, the pain forgotten, his lungs empty. “What?” he whispered.
“No,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “That’s all I will say, so don’t even ask me because I will not relive that hell just to bring your sorry ass up to speed. Go read a fucking newspaper.”
His brows dropped even lower. “Now, wait a fucking second—”
“No, I won’t wait a fucking anything for you. Don’t come riding back into town, acting like you have any rights. You and I have nothing to say.”
He stood there stupidly, watching as she turned, her hair snapping around her like a whip, remembering himself just in time to reach out and grab her. She stopped and turned but jerked her arm from his grip.
“Hang on one goddamn minute, Josie. You don’t get to unload on me like that without letting me say my piece.”
Her jaw was set, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in a breath and blew it out through her nose. She didn’t speak, which he took as all the permission he’d get.
“First of all, if you had gotten that letter, you would know that Tori and I never got back together. I took her to New Orleans, so we could have a shot at saving money and so she could go to school. Second, when I was with you, it was only you.” I wanted forever, he thought, but he pressed on, knowing the clock was ticking. “And I have been waiting on an answer to that letter for the last three years. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me because of Tori.”
“You’d have been right.”
“But not in the way I thought. And not for the reason you thought.” He searched her face as she staggered through the realization. “I’m not with her, and I haven’t been, not since before you and I were together. I wanted to work things out with you, but I thought…I thought when you didn’t answer, it meant you didn’t want me. I…I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Clearly.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and he didn’t know what else he could say. He finally landed on the one thing he’d been waiting to tell her for three years. “Josie, I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t change anything. None of this changes anything.” She said it like she was trying to convince herself, her eyes glistening as they welled with tears.
“That’s not true.”
“It is for me.”
His eyes were locked on hers, and he knew her words were a lie. She still cared, maybe just as much as he did.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Just who in the fuck do you think you are?” She backed away, her lip cranked up in disgust, her voice trembling. “Do me a favor, Jon. Stay away from me.”
He almost stopped her again when she spun around and took off. He had a hundred questions, a million things to say, but he just stood there like a fool on the sidewalk, rubbing his jaw as he watched her go.
All those years, she’d believed he was with Tori, that they were a happy little family. That she wasn’t important enough for him to even say goodbye when the truth was that it was the exact opposite. She hadn’t called because she didn’t know to, and that simple fact brought him enormous relief.
And with that relief was foolish hope that he could find a way to mend what he’d broken.
Jon’s eyes clicked back into focus when he blinked. He’d walked away that day reeling, trying to make sense of the truth, which had ended up being so far from what he’d thought for three full years. And it had all been a misunderstanding.
He couldn’t undo the damage, but he could try to win her back. All he had to do was give her time and space. All he had to do was be there, waiting.
He knew Josie well, knew how to
handle her. She wasn’t one for grand gestures, especially not when she was pissed. Those chocolates would go straight down the garbage disposal, and the flowers would endure a full assault with a pair of scissors.
No, step one in winning Josie over was to leave her alone.
A month had gone by, and he’d run into her a handful of times. The first time he’d seen her after their fight, she’d apologized curtly for hitting him and shut him down hard when he attempted to talk about anything deeper than the weather. Every time they met, she would relax more and more until they were finally able to be civil, even joke around. When they’d been after Chester, he’d seen the silver lining. It was the friendliest she’d been.
But she had changed, closed herself off, and he didn’t believe it was just him she’d locked out. She had been hurt, and that hurt had hardened her to the point that the woman he had known was almost gone completely.
Almost, but not quite. He could still feel her, still see glimpses of who she had been. And he wanted to set that part of her free again. If it was in his power, he would.
It always took him a full twenty-four hours to get over seeing her. The cooling-off period was also accompanied by a deep-seated desire to get his feelings down on paper.
Seeing her was thrilling and heartbreaking, a war of emotions that blew through him and left him spinning. He’d throw on a smile and hide his pain behind his charm, hoping that, if he said the right thing, he could find a way back into her good graces, but she kept him just far enough away that he couldn’t get to her. He’d do what he could to make her laugh, but every moment would slip away too soon, and the hurt and disappointment in her bottomless brown eyes would cut through him again and again.
But it wasn’t Josie’s fault; it was his own. She’d been an innocent bystander who ended up with shrapnel through the heart, though he hadn’t fared much better.
Tori walked into the kitchen, yawning, and broke him from his thoughts. Her blond hair was in a knot, and he shook his head at her pajama pants that were covered in ponies and rainbows.