Page 171 of Josephine and Clay

“That's the answer I have.”

His expression tightens.

I cannot fix that.

I won't fix that.

We walk back toward the clinic in a silence that feels different than before. Less hostile. More final.

At the clinic door, I stop.

Clay stops too.

We are standing close enough that I can smell him. Leather and sun-warmed dust.

My stupid heart reacts.

“Thank you for apologizing,” I say.

His voice is rough. “Thank you for listening.”

I nod.

Then, because I'm apparently determined to damage myself efficiently, I add, “Take care of yourself when you go. I hope the circuit gives you what you’re looking for.”

His face twists then. Almost hurt, maybe even angry. Almost like he wants me to ask him to stay.

I won’t.

That has to be the line.

Because if I ask and he does, I’ll never trust it. And if I ask and he doesn’t, I’ll break too cleanly to mend.

So I step back into the clinic.

The bell over the door jingles with cheerful indifference.

Dr. Harris looks up from the front counter. He takes one look at my face and says nothing.

Excellent man.

I walk past him into the supply room, shut the door, and breathe.

In.

Out.

Again.

Then I take out my phone and open my messages.

My thumb hovers over Tessa’s name.

I type carefully at first, then faster once the words start coming.

Josie: I saw Clay today. He apologized, and I think he meant it. But he’s leaving Buckhorn again soon.

I stare at the screen for a long moment before continuing.