by Hadley Quinn
Maybe I was becoming soft as I got closer to thirty. Maybe my biological clock was ticking? What if I was feeling eight years’ worth of being told “Now isn’t the right time” piling up on my heart?
“Bye, sweetie.” I waved when they drove off, Emma smiling big as her little hand bid me farewell.
Exhaling, I began my half-mile trek home. The sirens were still nearby but had gradually lessened and then stopped. But when I rounded the corner to my building, the street ahead was flooded with fire trucks and other emergency vehicles, lights swirling around. I frowned, wondering if I was going to have trouble getting out later to meet up with my brother.
As I got closer, I noticed the smoke in the sky and the fire trucks actually had their hoses out, spraying a building.
My building.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I murmured while picking up the pace. Spectators were blocked off by caution tape and a pair of police officers, so I stopped amongst them. “What happened?” I asked no one in particular. From where I stood, I couldn’t see any actual flames coming from the building.
“Fire in the laundry room,” one person answered. “Sprinklers went off in four or five apartments, and we were evacuated.”
Holy shit. The laundry room was almost right below me—part of it was underneath my living room. I constantly heard machines running day and night, which was why I got my apartment for a cheaper price and why I slept with a fan on at all times.
But if sprinklers went off in apartments…was mine one of them?
I could just picture it: my entire apartment burned to a crisp or soaked with water. Well, it was probably soaked with water now, seeing that the fire department had a hose pulled through a second story window.
“How long do you think we’ll be stranded out here?” I asked the same guy. It’s not like I thought he knew, but it looked really bad.
“Hard to say. Gotta wait for them to give us a verdict. I’m sure most people can return as soon as their apartments are deemed safe. Who knows how much damage there is to the laundry room and surrounding apartments, though.”
Just my freaking luck. I still needed to shower and change my clothes before I met up with Drew. It didn’t look like that was about to happen in the next couple of hours. And, most importantly, what was the state of my apartment?
The residents of my complex were called over to a check-in point. I had to wait in line to give my name and make sure my emergency contact information was up-to-date. Supposedly we’d get a call when there was news, but for now, we weren’t allowed in for at least twelve hours.
After reciting my information to the lady with a clipboard, she looked up for the next person in line. I briefly glanced back at him as I stepped aside, and recognized him immediately. Those stunning green eyes were hard to miss.
“Harlan Hudson,” he told her, ignoring me completely.
Okay, whatever. I moved away even further, and when Harlan was done, he turned the opposite direction anyway.
Guess he no longer wanted to be best friends.
I called my brother to let him know what was going on. He changed our plans and drove my way instead. I needed that time with him after bailing on his birthday a few days prior, so I was very grateful he was accommodating. And he loved his gift and couldn’t stop talking about it. I preferred that topic over his questions about Josh any day.
We ate in a nearby café—a place I could be without caring I was in sweats with messy bun hair.
“I’d offer my place, Jo, but we replaced the couch with a foosball table.”
I frowned at him. “So where do you sit?”
“Still have a couple of chairs. Added another one, it’s been fine. Sorry you’ll have to stay with Mom and Dad.”
Ugh. That made my stomach tense. I guess it would just be for a night or two, but the thought of having to go back home after trying to make it on my own again was disheartening. And my mom would try to reinvent my life for me with her nutrition lectures and what I should or shouldn’t be doing with myself.
And men. She’d try to set me up with a date.
My dad would mostly be silent, but he’d occasionally throw in a comment or two that questioned my choices. Whereas my mom had always liked Chris, my dad had been a bit more judgmental when it came to my marriage. It really wasn’t that he had much of an opinion here or there but more like he felt the need to take on that skeptical role whenever possible—like it was his job to have a negative opinion in case he ended up right and could feel good that he’d done his parental duty of warning his children properly. I understood my father in that aspect, as his father was the same way. Blue collar family who did their best with what they knew, and I respected that.
But I couldn’t handle that right now. I loved my parents, but they weren’t what I needed at the time. My confidence and self-esteem were at low levels as it was. I didn’t need my mom to take advantage of that and change my resolve, and I didn’t need my dad to doubt everything I was already doubting.
Anna had a couch, and I was more than happy to take that when she offered. Plus, I knew she had clothes and other commodities I could use if needed. The only downside was that her place was smallish for four people. Also, a six-year-old might be able to sleep through it or not know what was going on, but the hanky panky sounds from the adult bedroom were enough for one night.
The next afternoon, I finally got the call saying it was safe to return to my building. But, I was required to check in at the manager’s office first. That didn’t sound good, and after I couldn’t get anything out of the manager’s wife, I hung up and hitched a ride with Anna.
Levon Parker was in his mid-fifties. Nice enough as a building manager, but he looked older than he was and was visibly irritated with everything that had been going on. So I wasn’t surprised when he gave it to me straight without any sympathy whatsoever.
“You’ll need to find someplace else to be for the next two to four weeks. Apartment 2C was one of five that need repairs. Gonna be some time.”
I calmly processed the information. Externally, at least. Inside, I was frantic. “Okay. What about my stuff? And how much of it was damaged?”
He pointed to somewhere in the hall. “A couple men from the fire department are up on your floor if you have other questions. They’ll let you in to your apartment. And call your insurance company to claim your losses as soon as possible.” He sighed, like he’d had to say that way too many times already.
He handed me some papers. I nodded as I left the office, taking the stairs for the second floor. The water mess had been cleaned up, but the building still smelled dank and felt a bit cold. I heard male voices around the corner, saying something about firewalls and how much damage they prevent. From what I could hear, the building had them, and it could have been much worse.
My apartment door had strips of red and white tape zigzagging across it, blocking my ability to get in. The door was pulled shut, but it was splintered and broken along with the frame.
Sighing, I made my way to the corner to ask the firemen for assistance.
~
“Holy shit, JoJo.”
I jumped, unaware someone had entered my apartment. I’d forgotten my door didn’t exactly lock anymore. It was early morning; I’d been working all night and hadn’t slept.
Why the hell was Josh in my apartment?
“What are you doing here?” I snapped with more vehemence than I’d intended.
I’d thrown the last of my ruined clothes in a garbage bag; nothing from my closet had survived. The flames hadn’t spread anywhere else except the wall behind my little closet and part of my living room. You could see the fire and water damage plain as day.
And if I hadn’t pulled out the box of high school memories the other day, they would have also been destroyed. But there it was, still sitting just outside of the closet door, untouched by fire but damp with water. The contents inside were just fine.
How ironic.
“Jolie, I—” He paused
, took a deep breath, and started over. “I’m really sorry, Jo. What can I do to help?”
“I don’t want your help,” I mumbled, heaving the sack of trash out the doorway into the pile in the living room. “It’s not like I had a lot of stuff anyway.”
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked, peering around my room. “And is it safe to be in here?”
“Was told it was. Floor is safe and all that. Just the two walls and closet that need repaired. Everything else needs aired out or deep cleaned.”
I had two garbage bags on the bed—items from my drawers that were untouched by fire but needed some professional care for the smoke. I’d packed up all my bathroom items as well, knowing I’d be staying somewhere else for the next few weeks. Those boxes were stacked by the front door, ready to go. The boxes, along with some towels, had been offered by a fire restoration company that had dropped in twice already. I made quick use of the items, drying and loading as fast as I could.
I was lucky, to be honest, and so were the others down on the first floor who just had minimal loss like me. It could have been a lot worse.
“What’s the plan, Jo? Where are you staying?”
“With my parents. Yay, fun.” I’d already packed a bag with personal belongings like my purse, important papers, and spare keys. I removed my passport from a jewelry box and slipped that in there, too.
It’s not like I’d ever used my passport before. I had it in hopes someday I would.
“How come no one is here helping you?” Josh asked, clearly annoyed with either that fact or the fact I was giving him the cold shoulder. “I stopped by to talk to you about other stuff. I had no idea your fucking building almost burned down. Why are you doing all of this by yourself?”
“Because,” I growled, throwing a pair of flip flops into the bag. “I told my brother and parents I was doing this later tonight. They planned on coming after five, but I just wanted to get it all done without them. Everything will be ready to load in my dad’s truck, and I won’t have to deal with my parents talking me through another ‘tragedy.’”
My parents were good people, they truly were, but they stressed me out. I thought if everything could be ready to go, I’d avoid my mom’s hovering.
I think I was feeling fatigue set in when I exhaled and sat down on my wet mattress. The oscillating fan hit me with a nice breeze, and it felt nice against my skin that was currently heated with agitation.
Josh came across the room and held out his hand. I eyed him suspiciously, but he said, “Let’s go. Show me what you’re taking with you, and we’ll put it in my truck. I have an apartment over my garage, it’s all yours.”
My defiance and unwillingness to let him help was at a record high. After everything that’d happened between us, I still refused to give him any more of my soul. His lack of respect had hurt me, and I wasn’t ready to forgive him so easily.
“I’m not staying with you, Josh.”
“You wouldn’t be. You’d basically have your own place. Has its own entry. Washer and dryer in the garage, help yourself.”
I shook my head. “I don’t care. I don’t need anything from you.”
“You need a place to stay,” he replied gruffly. “I know you’re mad at me but help yourself out.”
“Help myself out?” I repeated distastefully. “I am helping myself out. By not having anything to do with you.”
I pushed past him, grabbed the bag I’d been packing, and trekked to the front door to set it with the other things coming with me. When I turned around, Josh had the two garbage bags from the bed, one in each hand. He held them up, silently asking where they went.
I pointed to the front door instead of arguing.
Five minutes passed while I went through everything one last time in case I missed something—five minutes of Josh remaining silent, watching every movement I made.
When I was seriously ready to scream at him to leave me alone, he stopped me from passing by one last time. “I’m sorry, Jo. For everything. I’m truly sorry. I actually came here to apologize. It’s...it’s a lot harder than I expected but…please stop being mad at me?”
I looked him in the eye, which was a mistake. I could see a broken spirit and endless regret. Why did I see so much pain? It didn’t matter what he’d done; I didn’t like to see anyone hurting.
With a sigh, I asked, “Why should I? I feel used by you. I’m not up for playing your games. You picked the wrong girl.”
I brushed past him to grab my favorite snapback from the dresser and stuck it on my head. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get him out of my apartment, but I was starting to get anxious. These different sides to him were confusing, and I didn’t feel equipped to handle him while under duress. After nearly losing my apartment to a fire, I was an emotional wreck.
Turning around to face him, I groaned in silence. I also hesitated, because the way he was standing there, seeming to bear the weight of the world, made my heart hurt. And I couldn’t tell him to leave. I just couldn’t. Something inside was begging me to reconsider.
“You hurt me, Josh,” I emphasized again. “Yes, you warned me you were a different person, but you still chose to hurt me. You made a decision to treat me the way you did. Why? Why would you do that to me? I never did anything to deserve that. Had I known you were just going to blow me off after fooling around like that, I would have never gotten involved with you again.”
His eyes met mine for a few seconds, and then he looked away. Sadness and worry were etched on his face, and possibly remorse.
Those chocolate pools of melancholy faced me again. Barely above a whisper, he answered, “Because you scare me, JoJo.”
~14~
Eating breakfast with Josh in silence hadn’t exactly been on my to-do list. Whatever happened back at my apartment, I’d convinced myself it was okay to give him the benefit of the doubt and let him take the lead.
I was too tired to fight it.
Instead of explaining his fear of me, he talked me into letting him help. I decided to take a step back and see what he was made of, so after he loaded my things into his truck, I got in my car and followed him to his house. I’m not sure what I expected or if I expected anything at all, but when he pulled into the driveway of a nice two-story home in Kensington, I was surprised.
He quickly unloaded my things, carrying them up to an apartment over the garage. It was a nice little space with a double bed and basic furnishings. It had its own bathroom and a large closet space, and Josh told me to let him know what else I needed so he could get it for me.
He suggested breakfast, and I was starving, so I agreed to ride with him. Being tired and hungry worked against me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I hadn’t eaten yet.
So there we were, sitting across from each other in a bustling IHOP. It’d been busy at nine in the morning, so the noise was kind of nice. I pretty much inhaled a pile of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Mostly because I was so hungry, but also because it kept me from having to talk.
Once the crowd had diminished, I got the feeling Josh was ready to converse. The obnoxious family that’d been sitting next to us had finally left, and our little corner was vacant except for the two of us.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so…whatever I’ve been with you,” he said. He folded his forearms on the table and stared at his empty plate. I eyed the tattooed skin on his upper arms, making a mental note to ask him about his ink someday. “Seeing you again kind of threw me for one. I never expected it. Thought you were fully out of my life—married, maybe had kids—and the odds of ever seeing you again were impossible. Especially in a city neither of us live in.”
I waited for more, but all he did was watch me for an answer. In an effort to give myself more time, I asked the waitress for some coffee.
“So what if we ran into each other,” I answered. “Maybe that was reason to be so cold to me that time, but what about the other times? And what about…” I paused to form the words correctly. I think i
t made me blush, because even sitting there across from him, just the thought of him kissing me made my heart thunder in my chest.
“What about messing around with you?” he finished for me with a sigh. “I can’t say I’m sorry about that because I’m not. There are certain things about you that I can’t…” He sighed again, rubbing a hand across his face.
A large, strong hand that had been all over me. And the memory of what that hand could do to me caused my body to react all over again.
“Jolie, God, I don’t even know what to say,” he exhaled. “I wasn’t kidding when I said there were things I wanted to do to you. You have that effect on me. And I don’t let anyone—and I mean anyone—make me lose control like that. I make up my mind; I don’t let others do it for me.”
He’d said that resolutely, almost angrily, like it hadn’t always been that way. Maybe having that control was important to him, but I wasn’t about to come second to it.
“I don’t know what happened to make you feel that way, Josh, but just so you know, it’s never okay to make someone feel like trash. Never. And that’s what you did to me. Yes, I gave you that power thinking it meant something, but you took full advantage of it.”
He rubbed his face with his hands. “I know, JoJo, I know. But I never intended it to be that way. I’ve been trying to give myself time, but in doing that, I realize it was at your expense.”
“Time for what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he barely shook his head like it wasn’t significant.
“Time for what, Josh?” I asked more firmly. “You tell me or I pack up my shit to stay with my—”
“Time to do things right,” he rushed curtly. “I’m not gonna just jump through hoops because you tell me to, and I’m not going to rush a relationship ever again.”
Well, that was a lot for me to process. Had I really been so demanding in the past, he thought I was trying to bend him to my satisfaction?
