by Katie Wismer
Jo nodded, even though the very idea of adding something else to her plate or joining a new club was exhausting. “I guess I could look into that.”
“Jo,” Dr. Radden’s voice softened. “I spoke with your advisor. She said you started this year as a very promising student—great grades, your professors said you were engaged in class.” She paused and leaned forward, her hands loosely knitted together in front of her. “Typically when we see academic performance change this drastically, there’s an underlying cause.”
Jo met her gaze, her throat suddenly tight, and mortifyingly, the backs of her eyes started to burn with the threat of tears.
“If you tell me what’s going on, we can work with you.”
Jo dropped her eyes and dug her nails into her palms to center herself. She didn’t think she could force her mouth to form the words even if she wanted to. And where would she even start? It was all so overwhelming—this tangled mess of moments and pain. It was almost as if it had short-circuited her brain and caused some kind of memory loss, leaving her with no way to describe what had happened. Not coherently, at least. And a part of her didn’t want to untangle the web. Just wanted to leave it shoved back into the darkest corner of her mind for as long as it would stay there.
And even if she managed to talk about it, she had a sinking feeling that Dr. Radden would get it all wrong. Even if her face didn’t twist with judgement, she would make assumptions. That this was all from guilt or regret. And maybe that was the biggest problem—the guilt that comes from not feeling guilty at all.
“I understand if you don’t feel comfortable enough to talk about it this time,” Dr. Radden added after a while. “It’s something we can build up to. This isn’t a sprint, Jo. This can just be the first step.”
Jo glanced up at the clock, startled to see their time was already up.
“I hope you’ll come back to see me again,” Dr. Radden added. “You can always call the receptionist to make an appointment, or we just started an online portal where you can schedule things that way, if it’s easier.”
Jo nodded again, thanked her on her way out, and grabbed the brochure she’d mentioned before she left. She thumbed through the pages as she headed back across the quad to grab some lunch. Admittedly, there were more clubs than she’d realized, though she wasn’t completely convinced throwing another into her schedule was going to solve any of her problems. The minor though. That wasn’t a half-bad idea. All those extra classes would help keep her busy, at least.
“Jo, wait up!” Miller jogged up beside her, and she quickly dropped her hand holding the brochure so he couldn’t see.
“Hi, stranger,” she said.
He laughed and pushed his hair out of his face. “Yeah, I know things have just been really busy lately. Were you just seeing Dr. Radden?” He jabbed his thumb at the building behind them.
She ducked her head a little. “Yeah, actually. Guess I decided to take your advice after all.”
He smiled. “I think that’s great, Jo. How are you doing?”
She gripped the straps of her backpack and stared straight ahead. “Hanging in there.”
Miller licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Jo, I—”
“There you are!” Shay hurried over in a pretty floral sundress, her hair done up in a braid-crown. She immediately attached herself to Miller’s side, throwing both of her arms around one of his. “Hi, Jo.” Her eyes looked Jo up and down, the movement so fast, it was almost imperceptible. But not quite. “I…I thought you and I were getting lunch,” she murmured to Miller, though it was still plenty loud enough for Jo to hear, and Jo suspected Shay wanted it that way.
Miller opened his mouth and looked at Jo, but Jo was already shaking her head and took a step away from them. “I was actually just heading to a meeting for the photography club anyway. I’ll see you guys around.”
“Okay! Bye!” Shay waved.
Jo turned and headed back toward the academic buildings, even though she’d really been heading back to her dorm. There was no photography club meeting until tomorrow, but she didn’t want a pity lunch invite, and she didn’t want Shay glaring at her across the table the entire time if she accepted. Eating alone in her dorm was still infinitely preferable.
Jo didn’t dislike Shay. She was clearly really into Miller, and she seemed to make him happy enough. And she couldn’t even blame Shay for not wanting to share him with another girl, no matter how platonic it was. It wasn’t Shay’s fault that Miller was her only friend left, and the rest of her life was falling apart.
She dialed her mom’s number as she climbed the stairs to her dorm even though she knew it was a bad idea. Chances were she wouldn’t pick up, and Jo didn’t know which she was dreading more.
“Johanna!” her mom’s voice belted through the phone, loud enough that Jo had to hold it away from her ear as she wrestled with her keys to unlock her door. Her eyes immediately skirted away from Kayleigh’s empty side of the room, which she still hadn’t brought herself to fill. Luckily, it didn’t look like Addie or Liv were home either. She closed her door, shutting off the rest of the suite, just in case.
“Hi, Mom.”
“How’s it going, sweetheart? Your father and I were just talking about you. We’re having this big party for our anniversary this weekend, and now that you’re away at college, who’s going to take our pictures?”
Jo snorted. “I’m sure plenty of people there will know how to work an iPhone.”
“You’re still coming home for Easter, right? I want those pictures to be good so I can frame them.”
“That’s all I am to you now, isn’t it? Your own personal photographer,” Jo teased.
“Well, of course. That’s the only reason your father and I had you. It was an investment.”
Jo laughed and dug around on her desk for something to eat. All of her solo meals in here had put a serious dent in her stash. Finally, she found some microwavable mac and cheese tucked in the back corner.
“How’s school?” her mom asked.
Jo hesitated, mac and cheese in hand. She could tell her mom. Tell her everything. But she’d learned a long time ago that her mom wasn’t the place to go if you wanted comfort. It wasn’t her fault, not really. She probably didn’t even realize she was doing it. But somehow, no matter how serious the conversation, her mom always managed to steer it back to her. Her problems. Her day. Until suddenly Jo was giving her comfort instead of the other way around. And she really just didn’t have the energy for it today.
“It’s good. I’ve actually got to go—I have a photography meeting. Just wanted to call and say hi.”
“I’m glad you did! Bye, honey!”
“Bye, Mom.”
Jo hung up and set the phone on her desk, staring at its dark screen. The silence of the room crowded in on her ears. She set the unopened mac and cheese beside the phone, her appetite suddenly gone. A lot of things seemed to be gone lately.
24
Senior Year - March
Jo woke to the feeling of fingertips on her cheek. She blinked her eyes open to see Miller brushing the hair out of her face. The smallest hint of morning light was peeking through the window behind him. Faint, red creases lined the side of his face from the pillow.
She smiled and reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes. “Hey,” she murmured.
He smiled back. “Hey.”
She wiggled forward a bit until their foreheads touched, and his hand came to rest at the back of her neck.
“You know,” he murmured. “I didn’t notice it the first time, but you kind of snore a little.”
She jabbed him lightly in the ribs. “I do not!”
“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “It’s cute.”
“Hm.” She flopped onto her back, and he propped himself on a single elbow to look down at her.
“You’re not freaking out this time, are you?” he asked quietly.
She reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes, noticing the small pattern o
f freckles along his cheekbone that she hadn’t seen before, and shook her head. “Are you?”
“Not at all.”
She pinched her lips together to keep the stupid smile at bay, but it broke out just the same. “Good.”
He grinned back at her and rolled so he hovered over her. “Good.”
“Mill,” she complained, a little breathless, as he leaned down to cover her mouth with his. The least he could do was let her brush her teeth first. But as his hand tightened around the back of her head, holding her firmly against him as his tongue swept into her mouth, suddenly, she didn’t care anymore. Her hands slid up the sides of his ribs to find the hard planes of his back as he braced his hands on either side of her head. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips trailed from her jaw to her collarbone.
“We can’t just stay in bed all day,” she murmured.
“Well, damn. That’s exactly what I was intending to do.” He pulled back just enough to look at her.
She slid her hands up to rest behind his head, a small smirk teasing at her lips. “Last night was really good.”
“Glad you appreciated that.” He leaned back down to brush a kiss right below her ear. “I thought it was some of my best work.”
Laughing, she tugged on his arm until he flipped on her back beside her, his breathing coming out a little uneven. They lay there like that for a while, just staring at the ceiling, until he reached over, threaded his fingers through hers, and brought their hands to rest against his chest.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmured.
She kept her gaze trained on the ceiling even though she could feel him looking at her now. “The day you took me to the doctor,” she admitted.
His body tensed, his fingers tightening slightly around hers.
“No, not like that. Not—in a bad way.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I just spent a long time not letting myself even think about that day.”
“I know we haven’t really talked about it, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t,” he said quietly. “I just never wanted to push you on it.”
“No, I know. I didn’t really want to talk about it for a while. It wasn’t just you. I just—I felt like there was a way I was supposed to feel about it. And it just…wasn’t…I don’t know.”
“Jo, however you feel about it is however you feel about it.”
She turned her head to look at him, and he stared back with wide eyes, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. “Even now,” she whispered. “I look back on it, and I’m just relieved.” Her voice broke around the last word, and she pulled in a shaky breath. “Is that horrible?”
“God, no.” He pulled her against him and rested his chin on the top of her head. “It’s not horrible, Jo.”
She let out another shaky breath, and his arms tightened around her. She cocooned herself in the warmth of his body, burying her head against his chest and breathing him in. “The point was—I just—” She sighed again. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever said that. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it back just enough to brush his lips against her temple. “I’m sorry you had to go through any of that at all,” he said quietly.
She nudged him onto his back so she could prop her arms on his chest and look down at him. A slow smile spread over her face.
His returning smile was automatic. “What?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She pressed her chin into her arms. “I guess it all just doesn’t feel as…heavy anymore.”
His smile faded, replaced by an expression she didn’t understand. He reached up, his hand cupping the side of her face, and pulled her down until their mouths connected. But instead of the swift brush of lips she was expecting, he kissed her slow, deep. The kind of kiss she could melt into until it made her forget about absolutely everything else.
He rolled them back over so he was straddling her hips and pinned her arms over her head. She lifted a single eyebrow as he bent down so their lips were just an inch apart. “Omelet or pancakes?”
She let out a small, surprised laugh. “Well, you already know how much I like your pancakes.”
“Done.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and rolled off of her again.
She bit her lip, watching as he slid out from under the covers and pulled on his boxer shorts. The golden rays of sun peeking through the window danced off the muscles of his back as he moved toward the hall, running a hand through his messy hair. He paused in the doorway and leaned his head against the frame, taking in the sight of her on the bed. “Just…don’t go anywhere this time, okay?”
She smiled as she nuzzled back into her pillow. “I won’t.”
25
Freshman Year - March
It was the first day the dizziness hadn’t been all-consuming. Jo had been on the antidepressants for a week, and up until now, the disorientation had been so great, she’d barely been able to stand. She’d taken the whole week off from classes, claiming it was the flu, while she waited for her body to adjust and the side effects to subside. Being gone for a week definitely wasn’t going to do her tanking grades any favors, but right now, she just couldn’t muster the energy to care. The doctor told her it would take time for her to feel any improvement, and even then, it could take experimenting with different medications and dosages before they found the right fit—something she was desperately trying not to get discouraged about, because at least this was a step in the right direction.
Miller had stopped by the first few days with soup, but Shay had been with him, so they hadn’t stayed long. It was probably for the best, anyway. She hadn’t really felt up to pretending.
It was another Friday night without plans—which was fine. She was starting to get used to it at this point. Lacy and Tracy from photography club had invited her to some frat party like old times, but even though Jo was back on her feet, the idea didn’t hold the kind of appeal it once had. She’d been all set to have a self-care movie night in her dorm when she saw it.
She shouldn’t have read it. That was her first mistake. The second she saw the headline on her phone, she should’ve just scrolled away.
But she hadn’t been able to help herself.
Grey from United Fates finally reveals inspiration behind top hit ‘Johanna.’
She threw up immediately after reading it, and it was like she was in that empty apartment all over again. She read the entire thing in his voice, which was apparently still fully intact in her mind. She was hoping it would’ve faded by now.
Of course he hadn’t mentioned where she was at now. What had happened to her. The way he’d hung up the phone, so easily forgetting all about the one thing that hadn’t let Jo rest for months. The one thing she could never not think about.
And of all things to get hung up on, she somehow still managed to be surprised that he hadn’t bothered to give her a heads-up. They hadn’t spoken since the Winter Ball, and seeing as he hadn’t bothered to tell her about the song itself before it came out, she wasn’t sure why she’d expected anything different for an article. But sometimes, things got blurry in her mind. There were two versions of Grey. The one who held her hand, helped her roommate pick out a dress, and fell asleep with his head in her lap while they watched movies. And then there was this. The man under the lights with his face plastered across all of the newspapers.
The one who wrote the horrible things in that song.
He must’ve been thinking those things about her all along. She knew that now. But in the weak moments, she liked to let herself pretend, just for a moment, that the first version hadn’t been all lies.
It was late, after most of the dorm had already ventured out to their various plans, when she headed to the small area with plastic picnic tables behind the building. It was cold, but the night air felt good against her skin—sharp and demanding. It was almost enough to give her a break from her thoughts. She needed to get out
of her room anyway, away from the pregame Addie and Liv were throwing in their suite that they’d apparently forgotten to invite her to, or at least tell her about. She’d stepped out of her room with no makeup on and no bra to find a sea of strangers all looking at her like she was intruding, in her own room.
She curled into the bench in her pajama pants and a T-shirt, tilting her neck back to look at the stars.
The funny thing was, she hadn’t thought about Grey in weeks. She’d stopped listening to the radio all together months ago so that song couldn’t pop up and unexpectedly ruin her day. But today, the article had popped up in her newsfeed like some sort of cruel, cosmic joke. That no matter how hard she tried to distance herself from it all, it always managed to catch back up.
Headlights cut across the courtyard, momentarily blinding her, as a car pulled up and idled beside the curb. They were probably a DD picking someone up for a party. She angled her head back toward the stars, watching as her breath puffed up in a small cloud around her.
The driver’s side door opened, and the car let out a series of dings. Jo glanced back over as a figure cut across the headlights, heading straight toward her. It wasn’t until he was on the opposite side of the table that she recognized him.
She quickly swiped at her cheeks for tears that managed to squeeze themselves out.
Miller slid into the seat across from her and braced his forearms on the table. He, too, was in only a T-shirt, and he hunched his shoulders against the cold as he looked off at the expanse of trees to their side. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She thought about lying, but it was pretty clear she was very much not okay. “No,” she admitted, her voice thick. “But you should go back to your car.”
“Well, obviously I’m not going to do that.”
Jo sniffled and glanced back toward his car, which was still beeping from the open door. “I don’t want you here.”
He finally turned to look at her. “Why?”