Page 15 of Those Two Words

My thoughts on Jo are so polarized, which only makes me more agitated. “Can we get on with business? I need to clock out early today. Carrie is dropping by with Lottie later this afternoon, and I said I’d take them for dinner.”

“Just one second,” he says. “I really don’t know what went on with you two, but I’ve made a few logical guesses over the years. I know her leaving after Dad was tough, I mean, fuck, it hurt us all, but what I don’t get is how years of friendship were thrown away because she moved to another state. You guys were attached at the hip as soon as you both could walk, from what I’ve heard. What gives?”

Booth might act like a goof, but he’s annoyingly intuitive.

“Listen,” I blow out, my head falling between my shoulders with a sigh. “People change, and for whatever reason, this town wasn’t enough for her anymore.” I wasn’t enough for her, but I keep that last part to myself. “She’s here to help us get back on track, and to stop this place”—I throw my arms up, gesturing around the restaurant—“from falling into the hands of some greedy property developer. I’ve accepted that she is going to be working here, whether I like it or not. I have made peace with it. She’s a coworker, and that’s all she will ever be to me now.”

When I look at Booth, I’m hoping to see he’s gotten the message, instead, he’s staring at something over my shoulder with pity and apology written across his face.

The blood drains from my face. Without following his gaze, I know what he’s looking at. Or who, for that matter. It’s like my body senses her—that, and the subtle smell of jasmine and ocean air.

When I turn around and find Jo standing there, frozen and with moisture brimming in her eyes, I feel sick. From the shattered look on her face, I know she heard every word.

eight

JOHANNA

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

I knew he didn’t want me here. The truth and finality in his words hit their mark, slicing me right down the middle. I ran out of there before he could see me fall to pieces. So much of what he said wasn’t true, but I understand how my leaving would look that way.

This town wasn’t enough for her anymore.

How wrong he is. This town was more than enough for me. It was also too much for me at the same time. If the telling sign of my anxiety didn’t warn me that I needed to get out of there, I would have stayed and corrected him. Told him he was why it was so hard for me to walk away in the first place. But I’m not brave enough for that conversation, and I don’t know if I ever will be.

Tears cloud my vision as I sit defeated on the dusty stockroom floor.My head falls against the wooden shelves behind me—rows and rows of liquor, wine, beer, and sodas line them.

The callousness and indifference is so unlike him, and I know this is as hard and confusing for him as it is for me. He’s nothing like the man I remember, but perhaps what he said is true.

People change.

I’m wiping away my tears with the sleeves of my sweater when the door cracks open, allowing a sliver of light to illuminate the space. The specks of dust I’ve disturbed dance around in the air like floating glitter, but what catches my eye is the row of initials and dates etched into the frame of the door. PS. JT. GS. BS. HT. FS. Each set of initials working its way up the wood as the years go on. Booth drops to the floor next to me, while I keep my eyes trained on the letters.

I’m not disappointed that he’s the one to come find me, but a small part of me hoped a different Sadler brother would be the one to do it.

He leans in until we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” My voice cracks from either crying or inhaling dust mites.

It’s pretty dark in here, and when I finally turn my attention to Booth, I see the sympathy in his eyes. I haven’t spoken to him much since I arrived back in town, and I know he speaks to Harriet regularly. Growing up, Booth was always an energetic kid who expressed his feelings freely. As he got older, it was clear he wore his heart on his sleeve and was loyal to the core, and the fact he’s sitting on this dirty floor with me now shows that hasn’t changed at all.

He tilts his head slightly and reveals one of those dimples I loved to poke when he was younger. “He didn’t mean it, you know.” I do a bad job at hiding my sadness, because he bumps his shoulder with mine when my face falls. “I’m not going to apologize on his behalf, he’s a big boy; he’s trying to come to terms with this all. He’s changed a lot since you left and I’m not saying it’s your fault, he’s just different. A little quieter; a lot more serious. His heart and brain are competing over what they think is best.”

“I suppose becoming a parent will do that to you.” There’s no bitterness in my tone, and I allow my mind to drift back to the day I found out he was going to be a dad. It gutted me for so many reasons, and though we never really got to see where our relationship could have taken us, I pictured parenthood going a lot differently for us both.

“Weirdly, Lottie is the only one who seems to bring out the old Pat and she didn’t even know that version of him. Probably because she is in no way quiet or serious. You’ll love her.”

The name of Patrick’s daughter stings less than it did when I first heard it, and I bob my head in agreement, because I’m happy for him, but seeing him play house with another woman is too much for my tattered heart to take. One brutal truth at a time, please.

“He just needs time to adjust to things,” Booth continues.

“You mean to me being here?”

“Yes…but he knows it’s a good thing.”

“Does he?” I scoff.

“He will,” he corrects. “We’ve all missed you, and I’m not going to ask what happened. God knows I’ve asked my dumbass brother enough over the years, but he’s tight-lipped about whatever went on between you two.” He gives me a side glance, almost like he’s waiting for me to fill in the blanks. I quirk my brow at him, and his shoulders shake with laughter. “Just like my big bro. I’m glad you’re back.” He slings his arm over my shoulder and tucks me in close to him. “How have you been?”

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