by Katie Wismer
“Of course! Go ahead and grab a seat. She’ll be right out.”
Jo grabbed one of the mints from the coffee table and popped it in her mouth as she sunk into the plush chair in the corner. Her phone buzzed with another text from Miller, but she didn’t open it. Seeing his name on her phone made her chest clench and a million things she didn’t want to think about right now spiral through her mind.
She heard Sandra’s high heels before she saw her, and oddly enough, a second pair of footsteps. Jo didn’t even have the chance to venture a guess as to who else would be here before Sandra and her visitor rounded the corner.
Grey.
Her heart came to a complete stop in her chest.
Grey paused at the front desk, watching her, as Sandra continued forward, arms spread wide like she was going in for a hug, but Jo barely felt it as the woman’s arms squeezed her.
Jo held up the papers between them, forcing a smile onto her face, despite every inch of her skin burning as she felt Grey’s gaze on her.
The last time she’d seen him was the Winter Ball freshman year—and she’d kind of assumed that would be the last time ever, especially after he’d moved to LA. And even though many things had changed in the last four years, and the wounds weren’t nearly as deep or tender as they’d been back then, still, seeing him, being in the same room as him, it was like someone had dumped ice cold water over her head.
“Oh!” Sandra stepped to the side and motioned Grey over. “Johanna, this is my son, Grey. Grey, this is Johanna. She’s going to be our new intern this summer.”
Grey didn’t hesitate before stepping forward and offering his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Johanna.”
The last thing Jo wanted to do was touch him, but she shook his hand, and he gave her a knowing smile. God, she hated that smile. But more than anything, she hated the small flash of gratitude she felt that he was pretending he didn’t know her. That would’ve prompted a whole awkward conversation on why Jo hadn’t told Sandra that first day that she knew her son.
Brenda appeared and handed Jo her ID card that would let her in the employee entrance in the back as Sandra confirmed Jo’s start day—two days after graduation.
“I’m really sorry to rush out,” said Jo. “But I have this thing tonight.”
The fact that her thing was more than five hours from now didn’t really seem like necessary information to share.
“I’ll walk you out,” offered Grey.
“It was nice to see you, Jo!” called Brenda.
Jo waved as she hurried out the door, pointedly not looking at Grey as he followed her.
“Johanna Palmer,” he said once they were alone on the sidewalk.
“I didn’t know she was your mom.”
Grey shrugged. “I know. She told me she pursued you. Showed me your portfolio and everything. I’ll admit, I was impressed.”
“Cool. I’m leaving now.” Jo glanced both ways down the street, waiting for a line of cars to pass.
“Johanna—”
“Don’t call me that.”
He let out a startled laugh. “Is that not your name?”
“Everyone just calls me Jo.” You were the only one who ever called me Johanna, was what she didn’t say.
I can’t stand for anyone else to call me that anymore, was what she couldn’t say.
“Jo.” Grey stepped up next to her on the curb. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“No.”
“Jo—”
“What the hell do you want from me?” she demanded, finally turning to face him.
The arrogant smile finally fell from his face, and he paused a moment before responding. “I want to buy you a cup of coffee. And I want to apologize.” She opened her mouth to protest again, and he seemed to sense it, because he continued before she had the chance. “I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m asking you for five minutes of your time. You can even throw the coffee on me afterwards, if you want.”
Jo snorted at that, but her chest warmed a little at the visual.
“Please, Jo,” he added quietly. “I just want to talk.”
She glanced back at the street, now empty and ready for her to cross. But her feet didn’t move. She’d always thought she didn’t want anything from Grey anymore—and for the most part, that was true. But she’d also thought she’d never see him again. She’d thought he was frozen in time as the boy she’d known when she was eighteen. But this person standing beside her didn’t look quite like him. He was heavier now and clean-shaven for once. But there was also something different about his eyes. The way he looked at her. The way she actually believed him when he said he wanted to apologize, something she’d stopped waiting for years ago.
“Whatever you have to say, just spit it out.” She stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Now that the initial shock of seeing him had filtered out, Jo was pleased to realize she didn’t feel much of anything when she looked at him anymore. Not attraction. Not desire. Not heartache. Not even anger. He was just…there. A version of a person she didn’t know.
“All right.” He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets, his usual confidence and ease strikingly absent. “I’m not here to give you excuses or to ask for your forgiveness. I’ve thought about reaching out so many times—after you launched your new business, when I saw that piece on you in the paper—and I talked myself out of it every time.”
Jo bristled a bit. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”
He shrugged. “I—look, I’m sorry. I was a stupid kid—”
“You were twenty-two,” she cut in. “That’s how old I am now. So no, you weren’t a kid.”
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “The way I handled that is the worst thing I’ve ever done. It’s not an excuse, but I was scared, Jo. After I hung up the phone with you, I threw up.”
Her jaw tightened. “And then you got to forget about it, go on with your life, and tour the world.”
“I never forgot about it,” he whispered. “But you’re right. I don’t think there was a worse way I could’ve done things. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m just—I need you to know that.”
Jo squinted and turned away to look across the street as Grey’s shoulders slumped pitifully—this boy who had once been larger than life to her, who’d had a magnetic pull she couldn’t resist no matter how hard she tried. The first boy she’d ever been in love with. Now she hardly recognized him. And what was probably the most merciful thing about it all was she didn’t want to.
“Is that all, then?” she asked.
He looked up, bit his lip, and nodded.
“Okay.” Without another word, she turned around and walked away from Grey for the last time.
19
Freshman Year - December
Kayleigh stood in the door to their room with a rolling suitcase half her size. She pulled on a bright red hat with a pompom on top and glanced back at where Jo was sitting on her bed. A small frown crossed her face. “You sure you’re going to be okay here all alone?” she asked. “It’s a long break.” She hesitated, eyes darting from her suitcase to Jo. “You could always come home with me.”
“I’m good. Really.” Jo smiled at the offer, even though Kayleigh hadn’t meant it. If she had, she would’ve asked before she was literally walking out the door. “Have fun with your family.”
Kayleigh smiled again, looking almost relieved, and gave a halfhearted wave. “Merry Christmas.”
Jo waved back, but Kayleigh had already slipped into the hall and closed the door behind her.
Addie and Liv’s music pulsed next door, so they, unfortunately, had not left yet. Jo shuffled across the hall in her slippers and sweatpants to knock on Miller’s door before they had the chance to realize she was still there. He appeared almost immediately, hair standing straight up and a black pair of glasses she’d never seen before propped on his nose.
“Can I hide in here until they leave?” she asked.
; He opened the door wider, apparently needing no clarification on who they were.
His roommate’s bed was neatly made for once, the surrounding shelves slightly cleared out—Alan must have already left. On Miller’s side, however, there wasn’t a single suitcase or bag in sight.
“Have you not even started packing yet?” Jo demanded.
“Oh yeah.” Miller sank into his desk chair and threw a chip in his mouth. “I decided to stay here. My mom’s going to some conference, my sister’s going to a friend’s—just saw no reason to go home, you know? What about you? Need a ride to the airport?”
She hopped onto his bed and crossed her legs beneath her. “Actually, I’m staying too. Both of my parents are working.”
He tilted his head to the side, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Palmer, we get to have Christmas together!”
She let her jaw drop in mock surprise. “Shit. Do I have to get you a present now?”
He pointed at her. “It better be a good one, too. Hey”—he snapped his fingers, his face brightening—“you wanna go get a tree?”
She laughed and leaned back against the wall.
“I’m serious! Just one of those four-foot ones.”
“Right now?” she asked in disbelief.
“Hell yeah.” He jumped up and grabbed his keys. “I’ll drive.”
“Miller! I can’t go like this.” She gestured down to her sweats and slippers.
He widened his eyes and waved at his own sweats, then grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door, pointedly ignoring her protests.
Which was how she found herself in a Target in little more than glamorized pajamas on a Friday night. Luckily, the store was mostly empty, the floors littered with glitter and pine needles—casualties of last-minute Christmas shopping. Miller beelined straight for the Christmas section in the back, and Jo couldn’t help but smile as he crouched down to inspect the smaller trees. There were only a few boxes remaining behind the ones on display, making their options pretty limited.
“Green or white?” he asked.
Jo pointed to the one at the end of the line. “Black.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her over his shoulder, but slid one of the black boxes off the shelf and tucked it beneath his arm. “Ornaments?”
She gestured for him to lead the way. This aisle was mostly cleared out too, leaving behind little more than random letters and balls covered with glitter. She frowned at their options as Miller ventured farther down the aisle.
“Jo!”
Her head popped up as Miller pulled something down and held it out to her—a mini camera. “We have to get it,” he said.
“Great.” She took the cheap plastic from him and blew the air out of her cheeks. “A tree with only one—oh my God.” She grabbed a cartoonish, yellow ornament that was supposedly a pack of French fries.
Miller nodded his approval and continued his perusal of the aisle. After adding a ball with Oregon across the front, some reindeer, a gigantic, cloth Rudolph, and a few random dinosaurs, Jo’s hands were so full, she didn’t think she could carry any more. The tree already had lights attached to it, so at least that was one less thing to find.
“Should we go check out?” she offered.
Miller squinted, considering. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He turned and took off without any explanation.
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
“To get a cart,” he said just as he slipped around the corner. “I want to hit the baking section next!”
Within days, the entire dorm was covered in a fine layer of sugar. All of the countertops in the kitchen were filled with various sheets of cookies, the sink piled high with the dishes they’d neglected to clean yet. Jo was hopeless when it came to baking, and half of her batches came out burnt, but Miller didn’t seem to mind. He even ate one and pretended it tasted good even though Jo had spit hers into the trash can.
They set up the tree on the coffee table in the common room. The dorm was mostly empty for break, silence filling in the usual buzz of voices and sports games blaring from the TV. There was at least one other student there, though Jo had yet to run into them. Whoever they were, they’d added an angel to the top of the tree.
On Christmas morning, Jo stumbled her way to the kitchen, eyes cracked open just enough to locate the coffee maker. She leaned against the counter and rubbed her eyes as it roared to life, her gaze drifting over to the sad little tree on the table. She didn’t bother checking her phone to see if her parents had called—their flight was to somewhere in Asia today, so she had a feeling she might not hear from them at all.
“If you make enough for two, I might let you have some of my pancakes,” said Miller as he shuffled into the kitchen, looking nearly as exhausted as she was. It was entirely his fault, of course. Jo would’ve gone to bed at a reasonable time last night if he hadn’t insisted on marathoning all of the horrible slasher movies they could find on Netflix. He was still in the same matching sweats and hoodie, so dark they nearly matched the curls of hair spilling onto his forehead. He ducked down to rifle through the cabinets. The coffee maker let out a series of beeps, and he straightened, arms full of ingredients.
“Do you have a mixing bowl?” he asked.
She jutted her chin at one of the cabinets with her name on it and pulled out a couple of mugs. After watering Miller’s down with nearly half the bottle of creamer, she slid the mug across the counter to him.
He took a sip and grinned. “Perfect.”
Jo wrapped her hands around her own, letting the warmth soak into her palms. “Glad you like your liquid sugar.”
“Life’s too short to drink things that don’t taste good,” he informed her as he plopped a few eggs in the bowl.
She pushed herself onto the counter and crossed her legs, watching as he lit up the stove and starting pouring the mix into perfectly symmetrical pancakes.
He peeked an eye at her. “Are you going to tell me I’m doing these wrong, too?”
“No.” She glanced away and sipped her coffee. Truthfully, she was trying to remember the last time someone had made her pancakes. Besides her uncle who babysat her on her ninth birthday, nothing came to mind.
He nodded toward the common room. “You want to go put a bad Christmas movie on or something?”
“I can do that.”
The hall quickly filled with the smell of pancakes and syrup as Jo found an old Christmas cartoon and settled into the couch. Miller appeared at her side and handed over a generous stack of pancakes, already thoroughly drenched in syrup.
Jo gasped as she took the plate. “You put peanut butter on them?”
He froze, fork still extended toward her. “Is that bad?”
She quickly snatched the fork and cut off a piece. “It’s perfect.”
Laughing, he fell into the couch beside her and dug into his own plate as a singing snowman waltzed into the scene in front of them.
“These are amazing,” said Jo.
Miller just gave a slight bow of his head and slid something out of his pocket—a small, black box. He set it on the couch between them. “Are we doing presents yet?”
Jo glanced from the box to him, then set her plate on the coffee table so she could pick it up.
When she hesitated, he nodded. “Open it.”
Inside was a pair of stunning gold hoop earrings, and clearly not the cheap kind. She looked up at him with wide eyes.
“To replace the ones you lost. Yours were probably better than these—”
She leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. He quickly held his plate out to the side before she could crush it between them. “Thank you,” she murmured against his neck. “I can’t believe you remembered that. This was really thoughtful.”
He shrugged as she pulled away, his cheeks now tinged with the slightest blush.
“But now my present is going to look so lame,” she said.
He rolled his eyes and set his somehow already empty plate on t
he coffee table. Jo slid the small envelope out from under the tree and handed it to him.
A smile brushed his eyes as he slid out the card.
“You said you needed new gloves a while ago,” Jo explained. “But I didn’t have the first idea of which ones to get you. So I just got you a gift card to that boxing store downtown. Is that lame?”
He reached over and squeezed her knee. “It’s perfect. Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
They stared at each other for a moment, until Miller cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, then nodded toward the TV. “Wanna ditch the Christmas stuff and put something scary on instead?”
She laughed and jumped up to grab the remote before he could. “Fine. But I get to pick this time.”
20
Senior Year – March
Jo probably needed to go back to therapy. She probably should have months ago—probably never should’ve stopped going in the first place, considering a busy and stressful schedule was more of a reason to go, not less. She’d been bound to have a breakdown of some sort eventually. Sleeping with her best friend hadn’t been the tipping point she’d expected, but it was pretty on par with how the rest of Jo’s college experience had gone. At least she’d kept up with the meds.
She spent the rest of the afternoon meditating and practicing breathing exercises she’d picked up from her counselor over the years. When that didn’t ward off the incoming panic attacks, she went for a run. God, she hated running. Maybe that was what made it so effective. She was so consumed by her own misery and hatred that there wasn’t room left in her head for anything else.
When she stumbled back into her apartment, she was red-faced, smelly, and limping slightly from a shin splint. The red numbers on the clock glowed accusingly at her from the kitchen, and she pointedly avoided looking at the dress she’d laid out at the foot of her bed as she crossed into the bathroom for a shower.