Right up until now. Until this man—this boy, the one who was so intent on holding on—gently teased her edges apart.
It hurt, trying to keep them closed. All the same, she took a deep breath and stilled her hand inside of his.
He didn’t need to know the sad, bitter details. He’d never look at her quite the same if he did. Even her summary statements, the conclusions she’d come to after years and years of living with it all, gave away too much.
But he could have them.
“I think he was really angry is all,” she said.
With that, she tried to pull her hand back, but he closed around her, declining to let her go. “About your mom?”
“About everything.” His career that was never good enough, and his child who would never be the one he wanted. The life he’d lost on a delivery room floor. “But yeah. I guess…” She worked her jaw and throat, willing the words to come. Because this had been the hardest conclusion of them all to draw. “He must have loved her a lot.”
She wasn’t sure if she believed it, because it was hard to imagine him loving anybody. But it had sounded good. It had fit the models of families and marriages she’d seen portrayed in movies and on TV. The bereaved widower, silently drowning in his pain while he let everything around him go to hell.
And so she’d told it to herself. That story.
That once upon a time, the hard, cold man she’d shared a house with had been capable of a love so fierce it had destroyed him.
And so what if he hadn’t had any of it left for her?
Her eyes burned as she stared down. They were painfully dry, and thank fuck for that much, at least. She didn’t need to be putting on some kind of hysterics, and she hadn’t cried in such a long, long time. She wasn’t sure she still knew how.
“Well,” Adam started, consolation pouring from the softness in his tone.
But she didn’t want to be consoled. Not with platitudes, not with anyone trying to make the best of the shitty story she’d just served up the barest scraps of. As a child, in her bed alone, she might have been comforted by the idea that her father had once loved the woman she shared half of her genes with. But it didn’t change… It didn’t stop…
“He always wanted a son.” Her throat croaked, because this part hurt. “So badly.” There wasn’t anything to brim over, no dam to break or tears to shed, but her vision swam all the same. “And all he got was me.”
The silence of the room echoed in her head. The ventilation system whirred, and computers hummed, and far off in the distance, the nighttime chorus of frogs and other wildlife sang their song. But here in this space, where this man held her hand, everything was eerily, impossibly still.
And then Adam stood. He pushed his chair out and ascended, all the power in those muscles of his making itself known in one graceful movement that left her reeling. She tipped her head up to look at him towering over her, and for a second, an eerie chord of uncertainty twisted in her gut.
But he tugged at her hand, his gaze intense. Not menacing, though, just focused entirely and fully on her. Maybe that was scarier than anything.
“What?” she said as he pulled her from her chair.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” She hung back as he turned to go, pointing at the monitor. “Your experiment—”
“Still has thirty-two minutes to go.”
But seriously, what the hell? Her mind skipped through the evening, and he wasn’t… he didn’t mean—
She halted him with a firm jerk on his arm. In a hiss, she breathed out, “I am not going to go fuck you in the bathroom.”
That stopped him all right. He twisted around to look at her with something like horror on his face, and what was that? What did any of this mean?
“Jesus Christ, Jo.” He scrubbed his free hand over his face. “Look.” He stepped in closer to her, and it was too intimate, too near for this sterile space. “We have time. Just. Please. Come get some air with me, okay? Just air. I promise.”
She glanced at the monitors like they could save her. But then she stopped herself. This was Adam.
What exactly did she think she needed saving from?
Trepidation making her skin feel too small, she followed him, not to the rear of the observation area that led toward the offices, but forward. He nodded at the booth where, crap, she hoped Miguel hadn’t been watching that entire ridiculous display, and called, “Back in a minute.” And then he was pushing through the door onto the deck that looked out over the telescope.
In the distance, far up above, the dome that housed all of the optics and electronics was lit up against the blackness of the sky, silently slewing through the night. And behind it lay the stars.
So many stars.
“Come here.”
Adam led her into the shadows, away from the light of the door. She wanted to make another crack about not intending to screw him out here either, but he stopped her with a look. With a hand on her arm.
Putting his back to the wall, he drew her in close to him, her spine to his chest. His arms came up around her, his chin resting on top of her head. It almost made her feel claustrophobic, being tucked in against him like this, surrounded by him and his scent and his warmth.
But it didn’t.
“Adam—”
“Just let me hold you. For a minute.”
The question came out before she could second-guess it. “Why?”
A low tremor went through him, and he squeezed her tighter.
She closed her eyes. She was missing something here—she was always missing things, and fuck. What would it be like to be a real girl? One who understood this kind of stuff?
But then he spoke, voice as raw as her lungs felt. “If you don’t know why a person who—a person who cares about you would want to hold you after you said those things…”
She wanted to fill in the blanks. Then there’s no point having this conversation. Then there’s no hope for you at all.
“Then I’m even sorrier,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to grow up like that. That you didn’t get to know your mom. I’m sorry your dad… I’m sorry he couldn’t see how amazing you are. Exactly the way you are.”
Opening her eyes, she stared up into a brilliant sky, full of science and distance and things too big for her to understand. And for a moment—one incredible moment—her chest cracked open, and she felt like she was just like those stars.
Infinite, and worth looking at and trying to comprehend.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Shh.” She turned into him, burying her face against the warm solidity of his frame. And she did exactly what he’d asked of her—the only thing he’d asked of her since she’d begun to speak. She let him hold her.
She’d given him such a tiny glimpse into her history, and he offered her all of this.
What would it be like if she ever told him everything?
Chapter Fourteen
Occasionally, even Jo could appreciate the irony in her behavior.
She eased the front door of the girls’ house shut, taking care it didn’t make a sound before she stole across the lawn. Adam’s light was on, just like he had promised it would be, and flutters went off inside her chest.
Ridiculous. She shook her head at herself and quickened her pace.
Ever since she’d opened up to him the other day, there’d been this restlessness to her limbs, this itch just under her skin. Sharing even as much as she had had left her feeling exposed. Naked.
And here she was. Planning to gain the upper hand again by… well… getting naked. Literally, this time.
She snuck into the guys’ house and crept through the deserted living room, past the sliver of light peeking out from under Jared’s door. Pausing there for a second, she listened for voices, and maybe that was him and Kim? Either way, it was muffled enough. She kept on going, down to the end of the hall. Adam was expecting her, so she didn’t knock.