Page 83 of Never Been Shipped

Have always been smoke

Maybe you’ll think that I’m brave

Until you get me alone

But I’m not afraid of the past or present, oooh

The future that I see, baby, it’s all you

I do love you

I do love you

I do love you

I do

I love you, too

I do

For a minute John just sat with the silence after the music had finished. He knew he’d end up listening to it a hundredtimes, but for now he just wanted to let it take root inside him. He thought back to that first time she’d talked to him in homeroom, the times they’d sprawled out on her bed listening to music and talking about everything and nothing at all, performing with her with ElectricOh!, seeing her again after so long at that first meeting for the cruise, all the moments they’d shared on the cruise itself. He thought back to the way she’d cried, that night he’d told her he loved her, and he thought maybe he understood it better. Itwasa lot, this feeling. He leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and pressed play again.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

Micah pulled hercar into the first street parking spot she found near her apartment, but she didn’t immediately get out. She pulled out her phone, checking for a text message like she’d compulsively been doing for the past couple hours, but there was still nothing. It wasn’t like John to go half a day without texting her back, but he was probably just busy.

The last message from him had come at an ungodly hour of the morning his time, which meant that she’d been asleep. He’d asked what she had going on that day, and she’d told him the boring answer—cleaning her apartment, grocery shopping—and then asked what his plans were. That had been six hours ago, and he’d never responded.

It had only been a week since she’d sent him her EP, and they’d had a really good conversation afterward. He’d told her how much it had meant to him and had said very kind things about her songs, which she still felt weird and prickly even talking about, although it was getting easier. She was gratified that he seemed to notice all the subtle details in the productionshe’d tucked in there just for him, that he was obviously still listening to the songs and thinking about them when he’d text questions about the choices she’d made. Music was always one language she’d shared with John, and it felt good to have that back.

But she knew there was more they still needed to discuss, including the fact that even her saying she was “cleaning” her apartment was a little disingenuous. She just didn’t want to jinx anything before it was final, wanted to get a sense of the timeline before she brought her idea to John.

Micah must’ve had John so much on her mind that she was seeing things, because as she walked up to her apartment with her groceries she could’ve sworn she saw him, talking to Mr. Li downstairs. There was his distinctive curly dark hair, a bit of scruff on his chin, the muscles of his back moving under his black T-shirt as he gestured toward her apartment.

“The one with the hair,” he was saying, bringing his hands up to his own as if to demonstrate. And that was what really did it—the sound of his voice, so dear and familiar, so much of arelief, like she’d been waiting to hear it for a hundred years.

“John?” she said, setting her groceries down on the sidewalk. “How did you—”

She wanted to go to him, wanted to fly at him and wrap her arms around him so hard she knocked him over, but she felt rooted to the spot.

Luckily, he seemed to have no such issue, and he said something else to Mr. Li that she couldn’t hear before he headed toward her, stopping when they were toe-to-toe on the sidewalk.

“I took a flight from Orlando,” he said. “With a connection in Phoenix.”

She laughed, the sound bubbling out of her almost hysterically. Obviously she didn’t mean literallyhow—she knew how air travel worked. She just couldn’t believe he was here, like this, standing in front of her.

“I was in the mood to be a bit presumptuous,” he said. “Like I didn’t bother booking a hotel, so I was hoping your offer to stay with you was still open.”

“Yes,” Micah said, hiccuping a little. She hadn’t known she was crying until John’s hands came up to her face, wiping at the dampness on her cheeks. “Yes, of course. For how long?”

“How long will you have me?”

“Forever,” she said, and then she did wrap her arms around him, her hands clenching at his back, his shoulders, any part of him she could touch. “I love you, John. God, I love you so much, and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it for so many years, I’m sorry I couldn’tsayit—”

He leaned back to look at her, his hands on her face again, holding her so gently she thought she might really lose it.

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