Page 164 of Josephine and Clay

Then I see her.

Josie.

She’s inside, near the front counter, talking to Dr. Harris. Her dark hair is pulled back in that practical bun, a few pieces loose around her face. She’s wearing jeans and a veterinary jacket, sleeves pushed up just enough to show her forearms. She has a clipboard in one hand, pen in the other, looking focused and composed and entirely out of reach.

My chest goes tight.

She says something to Harris, then looks down at the clipboard. Her mouth pulls slightly to one side, thinking through a problem.

I know that look.

I’ve seen it turned on me.

I miss it.

The thought hits hard enough to piss me off.

I shift my weight and pain shoots up my leg. I barely notice.

All I can see is her walking out of my room six days ago with that quiet, polite hurt on her face. I hope your leg heals well.

As if I was nobody.

No.

I’d made myself nobody.

I close my eyes.

I didn’t ask you to care.

Damn.

The words come back ugly and sharp. I heard them when I said them. Heard how cruel they sounded. Still didn’t stop. Because she’d walked into that room and seen me too clearly. Seen the mess, the weakness, the anger I couldn’t point anywhere safe.

So I pointed it at her.

Real impressive, McCoy.

I open my eyes again.

Josie moves toward the exam room, then pauses when a dog barks somewhere inside. She disappears from view.

I stand there idiotically on the sidewalk, one crutch under my arm, bad leg throbbing, heart doing something I don’t have patience for.

If I’m going to leave, I need to do the impossible.

I need to go in there and apologize.

I just need to… go inside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Josephine

JULY 18TH

By eleven forty-two, I've checked my phone fourteen times.