Chapter 6
“Clark.”
There’s only ever been one girl who’s called me that.
One night, years ago, she teased me with the nickname.
She told me I was like Superman and called me Clark the rest of the night.
Every time she said it, we’d pause and laugh, her eyes sparkling.
It’s been years since my laughs came so freely—fourteen to be exact.
And now here she is, a grown woman, looking at me with the same wide blueish-gray eyes, sunlight framing her in a halo of light.
I find myself drawn to her, helpless to her pull, no different than I was back then. My feet move of their own accord, closing the distance on years of longing.
I’ve played that night on a loop countless times, but it’s clear with her in front of me, all my memories were a poor man’s substitute.
Without a doubt, it’s her…only so much more.
She’s even more stunning, with lush curves that were missing fourteen years ago, and they only make her more irresistible.
For a flash of a second, I wonder what it’d feel like to hold her against me again.
Would our bodies fit perfectly together like they did back then?
I shove that very ill-timed thought aside as she sways on her feet. Pushing past Austin and Penny, I kneel to catch her right as the color drains from her pretty features. Jo crumples, but I reach her seconds before her head hits the pavement.
The arm not cradling her neck is wrapped around her middle.
Without thinking about the crowd around us, I draw Jo closer for a long second, brushing her hair from the very face I memorized on a night I’ve never forgotten.
Beneath her makeup there’s still a hint of those freckles I tried my hardest to memorize.
Her scent hits me and my chest tightens.
Funny how a scent can take you to another place and time.
The fragrance of peaches with a note of vanilla takes me to a dimly lit library and a girl I couldn’t get enough of.
A girl I’ve craved for fourteen years. God, she smells good.
“What the hell’s wrong with my mom?” the teenage girl blurts out, kneeling next to Jo.
“Language, Abby,” Penny admonishes.
My head snaps to attention. Mom? Did that kid call Jo “Mom”? Well, if that’s not the reminder of how many years have passed, how much has changed, I don’t know what is. And after all that time, here Jo is in front of me. The one who got away before we were ever given a chance at a beginning.
“Josie? You okay?” Penny asks, also kneeling beside us, fanning Jo with her hands.
I look down as Jo’s eyes slowly open. Josie, I mentally correct myself. She goes by Josie. My eyes cut quickly to her left hand—which is ringless—and around to the group that has formed. There doesn’t seem to be a significant other stepping up to take care of her. Only Penny and myself.
Hmm…
“I’m fine,” Josie whispers. Giving the girl’s hand—Abby—a squeeze, she repeats herself. “I’m fine, Abs.”
Then her body goes tense when she realizes who’s holding her. Helping her stand, I keep my arm around her waist until I’m sure she’s steady on her feet. All I can do is stare at her, trying to convince myself she’s here, she’s real and she’s beside me. This is all really happening.
“I’m good, y’all. My blood sugar dipped or something. I haven’t eaten much today.” She rubs her forehead, her eyes flicking to mine, then quickly back to Penny, who has stepped in to examine Josie, rubbing circles on her back. Her daughter has stood as well, eyeing her mother with concern.
“Lisa, can you take Abby and Jay home with you? I’m gonna run Josie home,” Penny says, widening her eyes at the woman beside her. The woman, Lisa, catches on immediately.
“Sure can.”
“But I’m not ready to go!” Abby protests.
“Abby,” Josie warns. “Run and find your brother and Smudge.” With a frustrated sigh, Abby presses her lips into a tight line and walks toward the group of kids tossing a ball. So there’s two kids, yet I’m the one beside her right now.
Looking around one more time to double-check I’m reading the situation correctly, I speak up. “I’ll take her.” I cast a glance Josie’s way, an unspoken conversation passing between us. Brows raised slightly, I tilt my head.
Her eyes bounce between mine for a long moment, but then she gives a quick nod and all heads swivel to look at me. Each of them wears similar expressions of bafflement. Everyone except Penny.
Looking to Josie for confirmation that she’s comfortable leaving with me, I see Josie give her a slight nod.
“It’s fine, Penny.”
Penny then takes a moment glancing back and forth between us, brows cinched. Based on her familiarity with Josie, they’re obviously friends—very close friends, if I had to guess—and by the way she’s acting, I’d say she’s quickly caught on that today is not the first time Josie and I have met.
Pulling my keys from my pocket, I gently take Josie’s arm, the warmth of her skin under my hand sending a jolt straight through me.
I guide her toward the street where I’m parked, only marginally aware of dozens of eyes watching this unfold.
When we pass my mom and dad, I pat my mom’s arm, and her shoulders relax slightly.
I’m sure she’s full of questions. There’s plenty of time to answer those later, but right now I have exactly three thoughts: Josie is here in the flesh before me, she just passed out, and I need to get her home.
We’re almost to my Volvo when Austin jogs up beside us, eyes dropping to where my hand rests on Josie’s arm.
“Ty! What the hell’s going on, man?”
“I’ll fill you in later.” Glancing sideways at Josie, she stares straight ahead, not meeting my eyes.
If I weren’t so damn thrilled to see her, I’d probably pick up on how strange she’s acting.
But I don’t realize that at all. Fourteen years have passed, and still with one glance, she manages to steal the air straight from my lungs.
I click unlock on my key fob and open the passenger door for her. Josie gets in without a word. Circling to the driver’s seat, I start the engine, and ask, “Where to?”
“Turn left at the stop sign. Fifth house on the right.” Her words are soft, as though spoken from a far off place.
A charged quiet hums between us on the short drive to her house.
Is she as shocked as I am? Austin has been here over six months now.
I have to believe if she put two and two together she’d have told someone.
If she and Penny are as close as they seem, she’d have brought it up to her, right?
If my memory is correct, I never said Austin’s name that night.
Still, for a fleeting moment, I wonder if our time together didn’t mean the same to her as it meant to me.
A quick shake of my head dislodges that line of thinking.
The look on her face when our eyes first met tells me everything I need to know. Josie is every bit as pleased to see me as I am her.
But the air of uncertainty rolling off her has me on edge. Worrying the edge of her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes stay fixed on her thumb where her index finger tugs at a hangnail.
It takes less than a minute to get to her house, but it feels like an eternity.
When I turn into the driveway, my mind clocks several things at once.
One shutter has fallen off, and it’s on the ground resting against the house.
The white siding has a green sheet of mildew, desperately needing to be pressure washed, and there are several missing shingles.
Does it leak when it rains? The need to know who is taking care of her is stronger than it probably should be, but I can’t help myself. I want to know every single thing.
I cut the engine, but she doesn’t move to get out, so I don’t either.
Stealing quiet glances at her profile, I’m still stunned by the effect she has on me.
Her hair, not quite as long as it was in college, falls in a curtain of sun-kissed blonde, partially shielding her face from view.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to tuck it behind her ear and memorize her face from scratch, all over again.
Reaching across, I place my left hand on hers, her thumb going still. With one finger, she lightly brushes my ring finger, which is bare. No wedding ring, never has been. Then, like she didn’t mean to do it, she jerks her hand back to her lap.
She lifts her head and our eyes meet. Hers—that unforgettable shade of blue—light up, despite whatever has her shoulders so tense. My gaze drops to her full pink lips I still remember the taste of. I’m hit with a sudden and overwhelming urge to cup her jaw and bring my mouth to hers.
“Hey, Jo. It’s been a minute.”
A smile traces her lips, brief and then gone, once again replaced with worry.
“Hey, Tyler,” she whispers the words into the silence of my car.
Usually reserved with my words, I surprise myself when they come spilling out. “I left you a note. Did you not see it?”
“I did. I got the note.”
“Then why didn’t you call? When I never heard from you I wondered if I imagined it all. Or maybe”—I rake a hand through my hair—“God, I don’t know, remembered the night differently than you.” My number was right there on the note I left. And yet I never heard a word from her.
Josie blinks several times, her lips parting slightly. Maybe my blatant honesty was a tad too much?
“Come inside. I think when you see what I have to show you, this will make more sense.” Josie waves one hand, cocking her head toward her house.
I follow her up the uneven walkway, passing a bottle tree filled with blue wine bottles and a yard sculpture of a small metal pig with wings.
We step onto the porch and she fishes around in her purse, retrieving a ring of keys to unlock the front door.
I notice the screen door’s missing the hydraulic closer, so it slams against the frame behind us as we step inside.
“Wait here,” she says, turning and heading down a hallway to the right.