“I would have driven her in the truck.”
“I told her. Said she didn’t need it.”
Didn’t need him.He nodded.
“What do you want, Joe?” Maddie repeated more kindly. Taking pity on him.
The same question Anne had asked that night in the Mustang.
“I want to fix this. I need to fix this.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to talk to her.”
“That might help. Anne’s big on talking. Always telling you what she’s thinking. What she’s feeling.” Another sharp look. “Maybe what you need to do is listen.”
He had listened, but he hadn’t heard. Anne had offered him love and he’d held back, held out for guarantees. He’d let her voice be drowned out by the noises in his head.
And now all he could see, all he could hear, all he wanted, was Anne.
31
Anne
A sinkhole opened in mychest. I’d handled the six-and-a-half-hour drive on the highway and the emotional confrontation with my former friend/boss and the business of packing up my life into my mother’s car without once falling apart. But the sudden appearance of my ex-boyfriend at the door of my former apartment was the One More Thing to Deal with Today I wasn’t prepared for.
“How did you get into the building?” I asked.
Chris looked surprised at my tone. “Someone propped open the security door.”
Oops. “That was me.” Hard to carry boxes and manage the heavy outer door at the same time.
He frowned in concern. “You should be more careful.” His gaze dipped briefly before refocusing on my face. “Anyone could get in.”
“Somebody did.” I crossed my arms over my braless chest. Keeping it together. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t answer my texts.”
Memories swirled in my brain of all the times my messages to him had gone unanswered, the busy shifts, the nights he worked late. I let them go. It didn’t matter anymore. “I’ve been busy.”
“Me, too.” He offered me a small, hopeful smile, his hazel eyes as beautiful as ever. “I was hoping I could talk you into that drink.”
Once again expecting me to fall in with his plans.
“I’m not exactly dressed to go out.” Also, I needed a shower, but screw that.
His gaze traveled over me, taking in my filthy jeans, my sweaty tank top. I hiked my arms higher over my breasts. “Can I come in?”
I shrugged and stepped back. I was too tired to fight. It was hot in the apartment, but as he followed me inside, I snatched a shirt from the arm of the couch to cover my nippage.Joe’s shirt.My heart twinged.
Chris surveyed the almost-empty bookshelves, the pile of winter sweaters on a chair. “You really are moving.”
“Yep.” I didn’t owe him an explanation. But force of habit or a memory of when I used to care made me offer, “You want something to drink?”
He gave me another long look, like a doctor assessing a patient, deciding on the best course of treatment. “A glass of water would be great.”
I filled the retro fruity juice glasses I was leaving behind at the tap and added ice.
“So, what’s up with you?” I asked as I sat on the couch.
Chris moved the blanket and sat beside me. Too close, but the only other chair was stacked with my clothes.
