But maybe, just maybe, she could find a place here.
She kept that thought right up until the moment she strode through her apartment door. She closed it behind her and set her collection of articles and books and papers down, and—
And the same four walls that had been haunting her for the past week still surrounded her. Still threatened to close in. And it wasn’t fair. She’d made a positive change in her life, goddammit all. Maybe even made a real connection with another human being.
She wasn’t still supposed to feel like this. Alone.
Sinking to her haunches against the wall, she tipped her head back and gazed at the ceiling. Her ribs squeezed in and her throat thickened. Because who the hell did she think she was kidding? She knew exactly what she wanted to do.
But it was a disaster waiting to happen. The worst idea in the world.
Reaching her hand into her pocket, she closed her fingers around her phone. She tugged it out and stared at the alert light that had yet to blink, the message that hadn’t ever come through.
She’d always thought, eventually, Adam would be the one who’d want to talk to her.
She turned on the screen and pulled up his contact. And stared.
“Hey. Bro.”
Adam darted his gaze away from the screen, mashing buttons on the controller as he did. No way that zombie was taking him out because he wasn’t paying attention. Not this time. “Yeah?”
“Mom’s heading to the store. Wants to know if you need anything.”
“Think we’re out of chips.” Okay, he knew they were out of chips. He’d finished them off himself at one in the morning the night before.
“That it?”
“That’s all I can think of.” On the screen, his character’s hatchet swung wildly, and he groaned as the bad guy snuck in a good hit.
His brother said something else, but it probably wasn’t important, considering he only said it once. By the time Adam thought to look up again, he was gone.
Huh. Maybe he was a little overinvolved.
Spending the last week at his parents’ house had been just the break he’d needed. He was getting a little too old for this shit, but there was nothing like plopping down on your mom’s couch and eating all her food and playing video games all day. He was surrounded by people who loved him unconditionally and unreservedly. There wasn’t any tiptoeing around anybody’s emotions or constantly having to hold back what he was feeling. Everybody talked about normal stuff like TV shows and politics, not scientific journal articles. He didn’t have to work or arrange meals or anything.
It was…
Actually starting to get kind of boring.
But that was okay. He’d be heading up to Philly soon to start the semester. It’d be good to see his friends again. He had an ass kicker of a course load ahead of him, one that would keep him plenty busy and distracted. Plus he had to take the GREs and start figuring out where he was applying for grad school next year. He’d hoped maybe he’d be figuring that out with Jo, but… he’d decide on a list of schools on his own. It’d be fun. Exciting.
He covered the twinge the thought evoked with a particularly vicious sideswipe of his ax, and zombie gore splattered the screen in a satisfying arc. “Yeah. Take that.” He braced his elbows on his knees, sending his character full-tilt toward the end of the corridor and the big boss fight and—
Where it sat on the coffee table, his phone buzzed. Through sheer force of will, he ignored it, attention firmly on the screen. Just because he’d let himself get maudlin there for half a second between kills didn’t mean he had to turn back into the sap Jo had basically accused him of being. She hadn’t been in touch with him, not even once since they’d left the tropics. He could still hear the pity in her voice. He held on too long. He settled. Accepted scraps of affection.
Well, he’d shown her. This whole week, he’d scarcely looked at his silent phone. He hadn’t sent her any pathetic texts or left any embarrassing messages. It’d killed him, but he’d respected her wishes. To the best of his ability, he’d moved on. Taken up more healthy pursuits than moping.
Like playing video games for fifteen hours straight. In his boxers.
He furrowed his brow in confusion when his phone kept buzzing. Not a text then—this was an actual call. Which was weird. Despite his misgivings, he tore his gaze from the TV to steal a quick peek at the vibrating screen.
Jo. Holy shit, it was Jo.
He stabbed at the button to pause the game, then muttered, “Fuck it,” when it didn’t work. Tossing the controller aside, he dove for his phone, managing to pick it up before it stopped ringing, sliding his thumb across the screen to take the call. Around him, his character made a horrible noise as he got torn in half by a zombie horde. Tucking his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, Adam plucked the remote off the ground and turned the TV off. Everything went blessedly silent.
Except the breath in his ear. The voice. “Adam?”
“Jo.” His whole body seemed to sag in relief. “Hi.”
“Hey.” She sounded like she was smiling, and God, he missed her. All that stuff about moving on had been a joke. Deflating, he flopped against the couch and slung his arm across his eyes.
“How are you?”
“Okay. I guess.” The tension in her voice made him pause.
“Just okay?”
“I don’t know.” She hesitated, and it had him sitting up straighter. What if something was wrong, or she was in trouble? Chicago was a hell of a long ways away, but he could be on a plane or in his car in an hour if she needed him. If she wanted him. “I guess I just…” When she trailed off again, he held his breath. “I missed you.”
Jesus. Those were the best words he’d heard in… maybe ever. He curled in closer around his phone. His voice went soft and raw. “I miss you, too.”
On the other end of the line she laughed, but it was grating. Harsh. “Guess I got used to having someone around to talk to.”
His chest panged. “Just someone?”
He’d have liked to think he’d been a little bit more than that.
But instead of rising to the bait or giving him shit, she sounded smaller. “This is hard for me, okay?”
And that didn’t make him feel like crap. “I know, baby. I know.”
One quick beat of silence, and then, “Baby?”
She would call him out on that. He shrugged.
“I’m trying it out.”
“Oh.” She didn’t tell him not to call her that. Even if they weren’t… what they’d been to each other. Not anymore.
He let out a long, slow breath. “Tell me what’s going on.”
And then, to his surprise, she did. Like she’d been bursting with it, she let the story of her last week pour out. Everything she’d done and everywhere she’d been. The words sped up as she went, like she was remembering how to use her voice again, and God, had she talked to anyone since she’d gotten home?
When she got to the part about going clubbing, his heart sank. Sure, they’d agreed to move on, but he hadn’t been ready for that. If he wanted to hear any more from her, though, he had to be cool about it. He couldn’t freak out.
“Except I couldn’t,” she said.
And the heavy waters that had closed over his heart parted. “You—”
“The idea of picking up someone else. It just… I couldn’t.”
Oh. Oh. “Jo…”
“What are we doing?”
Hell if he knew. “Right now?” He closed his eyes and tried so damn hard not to fuck this up. “Being friends?”
Another huff of pained laughter came through the speaker. “Being friends sucks.”
“It’s better than some of the alternatives.”
“And a hell of a lot worse than some of the others.”
“Tell me about it.”
It was what she’d chosen, though. Not that he was enough of a dick to remind her of that.
For a long moment, they were quiet. When they spoke again, it was quieter. She told him about her new research project and how she’d handled it. “That’s great,” he said.