Jamie
It wasn’t panic stations, exactly—if anything, Jo fit in almost seamlessly—but Jamie wasn’t entirely satisfied with lunch, either. Sure, they started listing Tumblr memes and compared favorite episodes of TV shows and discussed favorite actors, but they were all riding Ricky’s energy. Chase could do that basically all the time, but Jamie didn’t always have Ricky to fall back on. He wanted more time with Jo when they didn’t have Ricky to fall back on.
Sure, they dragged things out with the cinnamon rolls, and he and Jo shared one, unspooling it as they went, but that was all time with other people. Jamie spent so much time quietly by himself, but it didn’t seem like the sort of thing he could just ask Jo: hey, do you want to pick one of your books and read it near me? It sounded like a serial killer thing.
Some people just couldn’t exist in silence. If there wasn’t music playing or ambient noise, Ricky had an earbud in place. He even had a noise machine when he slept. How would that have worked if Chase needed utter quiet? Even the best earplugs in the world couldn’t cancel everything out.
It didn’t help that Ricky kept giving him meaningful looks about things he and Jo had in common, even though they’d already covered a number of them before Ricky came into play: Hannibal and Star Wars and Family Guy. They had The Simpsons, too, even if Jo cared more about Broadway musicals than he did and she’d never really gotten into Futurama or Marvel. Most of what he watched was because Mom put it on the TV, anyway, and it was apparently rude to go off and do his own thing and just leave her to it.
Mom was clear proof that some people weren’t able to sit alone, in silence. Having Jo around Ricky so often meant he’d never find out if Jo could do silences.
When they all stood up to clear the table, Jamie seized his chance, clumsily, but with both hands: “I’ll walk you home.” He didn’t even know if she was going home.
Jo gave him a long look, the sort that made him suspect that it was more awkward—or more desperate—than he’d realized. “If you’re not all worn out after work,” she told him with a little shrug. “That’s a long time to be on your feet.”
Wait, was she merely being polite or offering him an out in case he didn’t actually want to do it? “Walking’s better than standing in one place.” It was true, but adding something like It’ll oil my joints just made him feel too old.
She grinned, though, so maybe it was all okay, after all.
Ricky didn’t comment, possibly because Chase had a death grip on his arm, so that was even better. Jo just picked up her backpack, and with her three new books it was a heft again, and he knew where Brent and Amanda lived, so he knew which was to turn. There were a couple options for getting there, depending on whether she chose the slope or the stairs, but he could confidently turn right and fall in beside her.
And now … okay, the part that he maybe didn’t think through: it was up to the two of them to carry the conversation.
“So it’s you and Ricky in the food truck, right?” Jo asked, and she left her arms swinging freely instead of hooking her thumbs through her straps, so was he supposed to take her hand? That was a thing some people did, but Jamie had never been some people.
He settled on a nod.
“Does he talk the whole time?” she continued.
Jamie laughed, even though you weren’t supposed to laugh at your friends. “He does, but it’s to the customers, so it’s even more annoying because he says the same things over and over and over.”
“You can’t, like …” She gestured to her ears. “Put in headphones and just make whatever order slips he passes you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t own any headphones.”
“Wait, you’re just stuck alone with your thoughts?” Her eyes were wide. “My God, you are a serial killer.”
“You just told them I’m not!” he protested, laughing, as he gestured back behind them.
“Them just now, my parents this morning …” Jo tilted her head, looking forward again, but she was smiling.
Was that an opening? Jamie didn’t want to pry, but he was curious. “Your mom’s Amanda’s age.”
Jo nodded once, even though the smile all but disappeared. “I was an emergency placement. They were young, but it stuck.”
Emergency placement. It took him a few steps, and then they were at the street corner so they either had to turn right or wait for the light. Jo waited, and now her thumbs were hooked into her backpack straps, and she watched the don’t walk sign intently like it needed mental effort to change.
He licked his lips. “How old were you? Do you already know I was two?” Sheesh, give her a chance to answer one question before he shot off another.
Jo nodded once. “Maybe seven.”
That maybe was weird. If courts got involved, they had you fully documented. CPS had pages upon pages of little Jamie, whose last name hadn’t been Whittaker at the time.
Wait, and even then, if she was seven … “Was your mom even out of college?”
“Just.” Jo shrugged a little, but he couldn’t tell if it was irritable or dismissive since she also started walking again. “They got married in the middle, summer after her sophomore year, and they started on the foster thing right away. It’s what they always knew they wanted, but …” She flashed him a smile and gestured to herself. “I was a handful.”
Okay, and was this the part where he could ask if her being a handful tied in with her also being maybe seven?
“It was better after we moved to Michigan,” Jo offered, tilting her head toward the walkway and stairs so she wouldn’t run into him. “Then nobody knew my parents without me, and I guess a lot of my friends’ parents didn’t want to ask, considering our ages. They just assumed my parents had me in high school and still both got through college.”
He nodded slowly, trying to imagine it. “Allan’s ten years older than I am.” Maybe she knew that part already. “We used to dress alike—Mom’s got the photo collages upstairs. He was out of the house when he turned eighteen, but he was just so excited to have a brother.” Then he held up a hand like he had to signal a rewind. “Shane was a surprise. It’s not cool to have a baby in the house when you’re fifteen and trying to score cheerleaders.”
“Teenage girls don’t like babies?” She frowned.
“Babies mean someone’s always in the house so you don’t get to sneak up to your bedroom.” Ugh, and the way he explained it made it sound like he thought about it that way, too, even though it was really just Allan laughing about it, years later, the night before his wedding to Suzanne.
Jo smirked, though. “I didn’t really date anyone until Jake. It happened fast, but everyone thought it was solid.”
This shrug was definitely disheartened, and was that a message? Whatever he thought he felt for her, at this speed, and however his friends reacted to it, he didn’t want to be another Jake. Had she dated anyone since Jake?
Honestly the customs house was too close. That was part of its appeal: the walkability, at least when there wasn’t a foot or more of snow on the ground. Jo nodded them down the side and stopped at the door to get out her key. “Oh, hey, I don’t have your number.”
Jamie blinked and reached for his phone. “Right. Uh.” What did you text someone when you didn’t want to be a Jake but you also weren’t just going to turn and walk away? Most emojis were dangerously loaded with deeper meanings, but words weren’t exactly safe, either. If he sent her one of the pigs, would she realize he meant pork or think it was an insult? He pulled up her name, because of course he’d added her into his contacts, and decided to send the blue one that popped up when he typed truck.
She opened the door and slipped off her backpack, using it like a doorstop, so she could check her phone. Apparently the emoji was a good choice, because she grinned. “Cool. Do you want to text me tomorrow when your mom’s leaving? I can grab you something at Babycakes.”
He nodded because honestly he’d agree to anything Jo suggested that meant spending time together. “I’d better go study, then.” Shoot, that made it sound like a chore.
Jo just smiled. “I’ll bring my red pen.”
Chapter Fifteen – coming October 15
