Page 32 of Fall For You

“Oh.” Jo’s face flushes red. “Well. You said we’d talk tomorrow—I mean, you said that yesterday, so it’s today. Is it too early? Should I have called first? Or…or did you not really mean it?”

“Of course, I meant it,” I say as I reach for her and pull her down on top of me. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. Probably too close. I knowI’mhaving trouble breathing; it’s possible she is too. “Don’t leave,” I tell her, and I can’t honestly say if it’s an order or a plea. No, scratch that. It’s whatever she wants it to be, whatever will get me the answer I want, the answer Ineed. “Please,” I add because manners never hurt.

“I won’t. I’m not. I promise,” Jo replies.

“Good,” I sigh, relaxing my hold but only a little. I shift around to get comfortable, while still keeping her snuggled tight against me, and I think she’s laughing. And I’m content to fall asleep like that. But then, the growing wetness seeping through my T-shirt, from where her face is pressed against my chest, combined with the sustained shaking of her shoulders, adds up to a different interpretation.

With a sinking heart, I pull back so I can see her face. “Are you crying?”

“Maybe. A little.” She shrugs and offers a watery smile.

“Jo…”

“Canwe talk?” she asks. “Or do you not want to yet? Or at all?”

“We can talk.” I push myself up to a seat, then wince at the light. “But—ow. Could we at least close the curtains first?”

“Headache?” she asks in sympathetic tones.

I’m about to say no, but who am I kidding? She’s here in my apartment, isn’t she? That means she’s probably seen the disarray, the empty bottles. She already knows. “Mm.”

“Here.” She twists around, grabs something from the nightstand, and then turns back to me. She hands me two, small brown pills and a bottle of cold brew. “Maybe this’ll help.”

I swallow the pills and chase them with coffee while she drags the curtains across the window. In the dim light that remains, the room seems to shrink. It feels smaller, more intimate—which is probably a mistake.

“Better?” Jo inquires as she returns to sit on the bed beside me.

I nod, then grimace as I recap the bottle of coffee. “It’s cold.”

Jo snorts. “Well, you keep them in your fridge, Carter. What did you expect?”

“Touché,” I murmur. “So. What’s going on?”

Jo’s eyes shift nervously. “Well, I’m staying here. In Heartwood,” she says. “I’m not saying you didn’t do a great job of setting up in-home care for Vi, because you definitely did. But I need to be here for her, too. I can’t leave while she needs me.”

I nod. Neither of us acknowledges the fact that this is no longer about Vi’s concussion, which she’s pretty much recovered from, anyway. We’re talking about Vi’s other issue—the incurable, neurodegenerative disease that’s slowly stealing her away from us, the one that, realistically, means she’s going toneedsomeone taking care of her for the rest of her life, however long that might be. Can Jo really be that person?

Maybe she can read the doubt in my eyes, or maybe something in my expression gives me away, because she frowns and says, “I’m not going to abandon her, Carter. I’m not.”

“Okay.” I shrug and nod. I try and look encouraging, try and look supportive. I’m not sure how successful I am, however. Her eyes rove over my face for a moment, then she bites her lip and looks away.

I drag in a shaky breath and ask, “So. What about us?” I try really hard not to make it sound like my entire future is riding on her answer. But that’s how it feels.

Jocelyn

What about us?

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” I laugh nervously. This shouldn’t feel so daunting, so impossible, risky, uncertain. I make myself review the evidence in my favor. Last night, Carter drank himself into oblivion because he’d convinced himself that I was leaving. This morning, he squeezed me so hard that my ribs are probably bruised, and then he begged me to stay.

I know he wants me, I just don’t know how much. Or for how long.

“I meant what I said last night,” I tell him. I’m not going to ask again for a second chance. But I love you.” He opens his mouth to reply, but I press my fingers against his lips to stop him. “Don’t say anything yet,” I say. “I know you don’t believe that yet, butyou will. And I… I just want to be with you, for however long you want me to be, in whatever ways you’ll let me.”

He grasps my wrist and lowers my hand away from his lips. “I know that you love me,” he says gently. “I just wasn’t sure if you loved me enough to stay?”

There’s a question there. There are so many things I could say to that, so many answers I could make. But what ends up coming out is, “Well, I guess we’ll find out.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess we will.”

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