Maybe Joel had sent me food.
I wasn’t hungry but he’d give me shit for not eating whenever he came back.
Reluctantly, I wriggled free of the covers and sulked to the door. I cracked it open and bent to grab the bag of whatever Joel had ordered,only to find a pair of sneakers.
Connected to a person.
I stood straight, then squinted as daylight poured in through the cracked-open door. Jake, in an embroidered UConn polo, was waiting with so many takeout bags in his arms that I wasn’t entirely sure how he had managed to knock. The last time I had seen him, I turned his offer of a date down. The devastation on his face then was no match for the hurt that marred his features now.
He swallowed and blinked quickly, like he was trying not to cry. “Hey,” he croaked.
I combed my fingers back through my hair, trying to smooth down the tumbleweed on my head, but my fingers immediatelycaught on snarled knots and tangles. “Hey. Sorry. I . . . I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“I tried to call. Text.” His lips pursed in a tight line.
“Sorry,” I muttered again. “I had to change my number.” I didn’t bother explaining the bit about my phone getting blown up. That was insignificant compared to the harassment and barrage of questions I had to endure when the press found my personal phone number.
Regret sank like a stone in my gut. I could barely keep up with my own emotions. I didn’t know how to explain that I was more haunted by the seventy-two days I had spent without Jude than the sixteen days I had spent on the run with him.
Everyone understood when I said that I had nightmares. No one would understand the debilitating ache inside every time I thought about him.
Paper and plastic rustled as Jake shifted the haul in his arms. “I—uh—I didn’t want to show up empty-handed, so I stopped by that doughnut shop you like in Weathersfield. And then I wasn’t sure if you had eaten lunch, so I also picked up some sushi. And then I got you some chicken strips in case you didn’t want fish . . .”
I spotted a familiar white box under his arm. “Are those rolls from Texas Roadhouse?”
A blush appeared in a slow fade across his cheeks. “Maybe. I also got you soup. Soup seemed appropriate . . .”
For the first time in three months, I smiled. “I’m not sick.”
Jake nodded down toward the brown paper bag trapped in the crook of his arm. “Which is why I also brought chips, salsa, and tequila.”
While Jake arranged the spread on the coffee table, I dashed into the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair. When I couldn’t get all the knots out in a reasonable amount of time, I threw it in a bun.
Jake was waiting on the couch when I tiptoed back into the living room. He patted the spot beside him on the couch. “How are you really?” he asked as he popped the box of dinner rolls open and grabbed one.
I did the same, just so I’d have something to do with my hands. “I’m fine. Just keeping to myself.”
“Amelia . . .”
“I’m sorry I didn’t text everyone when I got back in town,” I said, as if I had just gone on vacation. “Did you come of your own free will, or were you the appointed friend-group representative?”
I didn’t say it, but the realization that no one from our group of friends had even tried to get in touch with me stung. Yeah, my phone had gotten blown up, but they had my email address. Hell, I usually returned emails faster than texts anyway. They knew that.
His brows furrowed like he was genuinely hurt. “I came because I care about you. I kept waiting for you to call or something once you got back.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Don’t apologize,” Jake said. “Especially after what you went through.” He let out a sharp breath. “That’s like . . . some movie shit.” Jake stretched his arm across the back of the couch, fingers lightly grazing my shoulder. “Be straight with me. How are you coping with all of it?”
The lump in my throat grew until I could barely speak. The corner of my mouth trembled as I whispered, “I’m not.”
Vocalizing those two words felt better than every session I’d had with Dr. Chen.
Jake dropped his roll and pulled me into a hug. He didn’t say a word, and I appreciated that.
“You sure you should be teaching this semester?” Jake asked when I broke away. “I’m sure Alcott would give you the time off. Especially since everything has been so public.”
I shrugged. “They switched most of my in-person classes to online. I’ll only be on campus two days a week.”
