Her expression changed, and the peculiar energy that Dana exuded trickled back into the room. “Life doesn’t come with that kind of guarantee.”
“I know. But you need better odds than I can offer you.”
She didn’t ask what he meant. He almost wished she had.
“I have to go,” she said, pulling her hand from his.
He stood where she’d left him and watched her let herself out.
* * *
JEROME WAS WAITING for Dana when she got home from Josh’s place Thursday night. It was hard to believe it was only half past nine. It felt as if her whole life had changed.
It had gone from good, to incredible, to horrible—all in one day.
“You look kind of sick,” Jerome said, walking over to open her car door for her. His beat-up little truck was parked at the curb. “I can come back.”
She remembered—he’d asked her to help him iron a shirt. He had a job interview the next day. She’d told him to stop by any time after eight.
“I’m not sick and there’s no way you’re going to that interview with a wrinkled shirt,” she told him, grabbing her purse and the empty bag as she climbed out of the Mazda.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“Nah, just got here.”
“Come on in,” she said, unlocking her door and letting him follow behind her. “It’ll only take a sec for the iron to heat up.”
Company was far better than being alone. Once Jerome left she’d take a hot bath, soak in her favorite lavender-and-rose bubbles, take an aspirin and go to bed.
By morning, she’d be just fine again.
* * *
JOSH TEXTED DANA three times Thursday night, just to make sure she was okay. And when she didn’t reply to any of them, he stopped. Who was he kidding? He was texting her because he needed her.
And because he needed her, he cared that she was okay. His concern was really about him.
He felt her pain as if it were his own, and that was because she was the only person that made his life feel bearable at the moment.
She certainly didn’t need him. He’d known her a week and in that time she’d had at least two different people that he knew of spend the night at her place. She was hosting Thanksgiving dinner for at least twenty people. She had pet therapy and Love To Go Around.
She had it all together. And he was lucky as hell that he’d screwed up with her and not some lonely, needy girl who didn’t have anyone in the world to lean on.
Dana was fine. And he had to leave her that way.
By all accounts, he was not a good relationship risk.
* * *
DANA MISSED MOST of her biology lecture Friday morning. She was physically present, but couldn’t focus on the microorganisms that seemed so interesting to her professor. She was too busy fighting with herself over the advisability of making her routine visit to Josh’s house that morning.
Lots of puppies were left alone in their crates or kennels for eight hours a day. Little Guy only had to make it until noon and then dinnertime.
But the puppy’s well-being depended upon his owner’s comfort. And Josh wasn’t comfortable leaving the dog in his crate for more than a couple of hours.
Of course, he was going to have to at some point. Or wait until Little Guy was house-trained and then put in a doggy door for him to go in and out as he pleased.
Chances were Little Guy would be more rambunctious for Josh if she didn’t go over to let him relieve himself. Part of the reason Josh was getting so comfortable around the puppy was because there hadn’t been any accidents for a long time.
She was a pet-placement counselor. She had a job to do.
Her biology professor dismissed the class.
And Dana hurried to her car.
* * *
THE SECOND JOSH opened his door at lunchtime he smelled Dana’s already familiar scent. And ached. Had she left him a note?
Surely, after the previous night, after having sex with him, she’d at least have something to say to him.
He looked everywhere. Even in his bedroom.
Nothing. She’d had nothing to say.
You get what you pay for. You want to win big, you have to pay big.
His father’s words rang in his brain.
Remembering Michelle, Josh knew that he was getting what he deserved. And knew that, if he never got anything in life he wanted ever again, he would still not have paid off his debt.
* * *
HE’D BEEN HOME for lunch. She could tell, not only from the lingering scent of his aftershave, or cologne, or whatever it was. But because he’d left her a note.
As opposed to sending her a text.
Dana,
I am truly sorry for the way I handled things. Those moments with you meant a lot to me. I would give just about anything to undo what I did.
Little Guy’s squeals reminded her that he was still in his cage.