Page 104 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

She went to Target for a few groceries, taking a couple of extra laps around the leisure wear and candle sections when he still hadn’t responded to her text. She stopped by a coffee shop for hot tea, then went back to their complex.

His truck was still there.

The clock on the dash said it was almost eight thirty ... Screw it. She pulled into the spot next to his building and put her car in park. Right before she got out, her phone dinged.

Jamie:??Hey, sorry. I had my phone on silent. I’m pretty exhausted. Heading to bed early tonight.??

She frowned at the screen but stayed put, abandoning her plan to show up at his door.

Elliott:??Are you okay???

Jamie:??Yeah??

Elliott:??Did you talk to Carly???

Jamie:??Yeah. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay???

No,she wanted to say.Not okay.What was going on, and why didn’t he want to talk to her about it?

But she’d respect his request, as difficult as it would be. Something had obviously happened, but there’d been times when she wanted to be alone to process something, too. She wouldn’t push him tonight, but tomorrow would be a different story.

She gave him until 9:00 a.m. She’d tossed and turned all night, thinking and worrying about him. And about Carly.

He said they’d talk today, so by 9:07 a.m. she stood on his doormat, still in her pajama pants and tank top. She knocked.

Nothing. Not a single sound came from inside his apartment.

She frowned and knocked again, louder this time. Not even a bark from Hank.

They hadn’t been at the dog park when she left her building—she’d checked before making the trek here. She slipped her phone from her pocket, but just as she hit the “Call” button, the door to the stairwell at the end of the hall opened.

Hank bounded out, panting and drooling everywhere, followed by a shirtless, sweaty Jamie.

Elliott knelt to greet Hank but kept her eyes on Jamie’s face. His flushed cheeks, damp hair, and troubled eyes.

He stopped beside her. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Sorry about last night.” He swiped his wadded-up shirt across his face, then pulled a key from his pocket. “Come on in.”

She followed him inside, scanning the apartment as she went. Everything looked normal. A vase of aging flowers on the table, Hank’s toys scattered around, several books stacked beside the couch. Even the cereal bowl in the sink was a usual finding on a weekend morning.

Hank collapsed on the kitchen tiles. Jamie filled a glass with water and sat at the kitchen table like he always did after a run, not wanting to get the cushions all sweaty.

On the surface nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

But something still felt off.

Maybe it was the tension in his shoulders that a run hadn’t even loosened up, or the downward tilt of his lips. Maybe it was the way he wouldn’t look at her.

“Good run?” she asked, like a complete coward.

“Fine.” He chugged half the glass and wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. He finally met her gaze for a few seconds, then dropped his eyes to the table, dropping his face to his hands.

“Oh, Jamie.” She sat beside him, her hand on his back, not caring that his warm skin was damp. His ribs rose and fell underneath her touch. “Was it that bad?”

The pained sigh he released was so heavy she felt it in her bones. Suddenly, she dreaded hearing what he’d say.

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