“No, Jo. I think I’m good.”
Her face falls. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad?” I ask sarcastically. “My best friend just skips town and completely forgets about me. Or did I miss all the calls and letters? Did you think you’d come back, and it’d be all puppies and rainbows?”
“I didn’t think—“
“I know. Jo Lawson never thinks. She just acts. Look, welcome home or whatever, but I think you and I just need to stay away from each other.”
I turn to leave, and she says, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“It’s more than you said when you left. Consider yourself lucky.”
I walk toward the registers, but instead of going through, I hand my cart to a worker and walk out. If I don’t get some air, I worry I’ll pass out.
I move so fast, I’m practically jogging across the parking lot.
When I’m safely inside my truck, I try to make sense of what happened. If Jo ever came back, I figured we would both doour best to stay away from each other. I guess Jo didn’t get the memo.
Why the fuck was she being so nice? I’m sure I seemed like a dick in comparison, but I have to be. I can’t get sucked into her world again.
I don’t know if I’d survive it again.
I decide that I better get out of the parking lot before Jo finishes her shopping, and we have another uncomfortable meeting.
So, I drive away—still with an empty fridge waiting for me.
That’s alright. I’m thinking I may need something a little stronger right now anyway.
Chapter eight
A Little Feral
Jo
Iwalk into my parents’ house and can already hear the chatter from my huge family. After my encounter with Beau, I’m not in the mood to do this, but here it goes.
As I head through the living room toward the kitchen and dining room, I look around. Over the years, the house hasn’t changed much. Sure, things have been updated, but the overall feel and charm of this place has always remained the same.
A few lamps scattered through the room provide warm lighting that is complemented by the fireplace. The walls are a deep red, and there are frames hanging all around. The ones from when we were kids are now joined by ones of all the grandkids. Our parents have cultivated one hell of a family. They’ll leave quite the legacy behind one day.
As I’m stopping to look at some of the newly added pictures, my dad comes walking in.
“Is that my littlest Lawson?” He asks with a big smile.
“Hi, Dad.”
He wraps me in a giant bear hug. “Do you know how happy I am that you’re home?”
“Me too, Pops.”
Andre Lawson is one hell of a father. Even while owning a bar, he never missed one of our games or school functions. He was always there for us to talk to and always listened without judgement.
Every woman in town has been envious of my mother because of his clear charm and devotion to her.
He looks at me. “Are you okay?’
“Yeah, just tired.”
