Page 81 of How You See Me
“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” the woman says, giving Josie’s arm a squeeze before retreating down the hall.
“Hi,” Josie says timidly, her arms crossing over her chest.
I wouldn’t blame her if she were angry with me. I’d been gone for hours and never checked in. Never even told her I was leaving.
I slowly close the door and step into the sunken living room where she seems stuck to the floor.
“You’re really hard to read,” she says. “And you don’t owe me any explanations. But you’ve been by my side for three straight days. When you disappeared, I didn’t know what happened or if you were coming back . . . if you were hurt.”
Her voice cracks, ripping me in two. But she repairs my jagged pieces by wrapping her arms around my torso. Hercheek presses against my chest, emotions quaking through her.
“I’m sorry.” I press a kiss to her hair, wishing everything was different. That Ava had had a breakthrough instead of yet another scare. That I’d called or texted Josie before I ran off. That I could be in two places at once and not feel like I’m walking a tightrope, teetering between wants and responsibilities, happiness and numbness. “I should have told you.”
“Did you go for a run?”
“Yeah. Sorry for the sweat, too.”
“I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re back.”
Taking hold of her shoulders, I gently separate us and bend down to see her face. “I would never leave you to fend for yourself. You know that, right?”
She nods, but a part of her that’s still scared to believe lingers behind.
“If there’s an accident . . .” she starts, but I quickly cut off the thought.
“There won’t be.” I pull her back to me, realizing I’m an even bigger jackass than I thought.
She’s not only reacting to me, she’s remembering everyone who’s ever left her. Like a jackass, I didn’t think about how my actions could trigger her fears. Particularly her fear of abandonment.
Before I met her, Jordan would tell me about how she’d react to the things he or her boyfriend did. As someone who faced danger head-on every day with a trained short memory, I thought her actions were dramatic.
Then, Ava got sick and the possibility that we may lose her became too real to manage. My entire life didn’t feel like mine anymore and everything changed. Including me. Having lost both her parents at a young age, dealing with foster care, and caring for her teenage brother alone, it’s no wonder she has a short fuse. I understand now. Understand her.
“I’ll wear the cowboy hat tomorrow if you’ll forgive me.”
She leans back, managing a tired smile. “I forgave you the second you walked through that door. But since you offered . . .”
I don’t deserve to hold this woman, but I’d do anything to keep that contentment on her face.
“You got it. Hat stays on all day.”
We walk back to the room, arms around each other. Her paints sit on the table without tops. The overhead light still glows as if she’d left in a rush. Blame twists in my gut again.
And then I notice the rest.
The queen-size bed—just one—and no couch.
I’d been too tired from my Tim Talks about town gossip to pay attention to the room. My heart takes off. She won’t let me sleep on the floor and knows better than to offer to take it herself. I’d been looking forward to possibly getting a good night sleep in an actual bed with blankets and pillows. I’ll soon have half of that wish. With Josie next to me in that small bed, close enough to touch in one of her barely-there pajama sets, I won’t sleep a minute.
“Can I brush my teeth before you take a shower?” She moves to her open suitcase at the foot of the bed and pulls out clothes.
Bringing in our bags . . . another thing I blanked on and left her to deal with.
“I didn’t say anything about a shower.” But it sounds nice. “Are you saying I stink?”
Her face scrunches. “I did get a whiff of you up close.”
“And you hugged me anyway?”
