Page 83 of You Fall First

Is Steven your new boyfriend?

Jo

Jo

Anyway, we need to leave the park soon so I can get ready for tonight. Hopefully Dutton will nap for me.

I fight the urge to picture Jo back at my place doing whatever “getting ready” means to her. Hair. Makeup. Dress. Perfume. Jewelry. She doesn’t need any of that stuff to be beautiful, but the thought of her doing these things under my roof triggers sparks behind my ribs.

Me

Donuts and napping might not mix. I’ll try to wrap things up here as soon as I can to relieve you there. Might be a little while, though.

Jo

Whenever is great, thanks.

Me

Of course. No problem.

Jo

See you at home then.

Home.

My heart swells.

She said it first. Again.

On the drive back, I consider my last few texts with Jo.

Her last few texts to me.

I like that she sends pics making funny faces and wearing donut crumbs all over her face. I love that she’s comfortable enough to joke with me about PMS. She’s not trying to be attractive, at least not in an obvious way. And yet the more she acts like herself, the more attracted I become.

The truth is, the boundaries on my end are getting fuzzier by the hour. All day long, I find myself thinking about what life could be like if I had the bandwidth to prioritize someone other than Paige and Dutton.

If I were free to choose for myself.

But for now, I’m Uncle Noah, and she’s Miss Jo, and our only job is to make sure Dutton is as settled and safe as possible.

Once Paige gets here, Jo and I will inevitably slip back into our lives from before. Lives where we might go an entire year without seeing each other. At the thought, a sting of loneliness hits my chest. When I pull up to the house, Jo’s blue hatchback is parked at the curb. She’s inside, already getting ready for tonight.

Dex does this every Friday, coming home to Sayla.

Bridger, too, with Loren.

I’ll have my sister soon, I guess. She’s being released from the hospital. Like, now. A wave of needing to know how she’s doing washes over me, so I park the truck and call her before heading inside. Paige doesn’t answer, though. Instead, Annie’s grin fills the screen.

“Hey, Noah!”

“Everything okay?”

“Yep. We’re about to blow this popsicle stand.” She shifts the phone angle, so I get a view of my sister perched at the foot of her hospital bed, zipping up a purple hoodie.

“No more shorty gowns for this girl.” Paige snags the phone from Annie. “I never knew I could be this excited to wear an old-lady tracksuit with an elastic waistband.”