“If you thought it was going to taste like cough medicine, why did you order it?”
“I like to try new things,” he said. “Life is too short not to have a little fun.”
I reached to try my own drink. It wasn’t too bad either. “Even when it comes to crazy holiday drinks?”
“Especially then,” said Josh. “Low risk, high reward. Well, some of the time, there’s a high reward. If not, at least now I can say that I’ve had a martini with a show.”
That was something he definitelycouldsay. However, I wasn’t sure that I ever thought he would.
I kind of forgot just how carefree Josh was. Or at least, he used to be on special occasions when we were young. As Gina’s older brother, he always felt a lot older than us—until he wasn’t so much anymore. Most of the time, he hung out with his friends outside of their house, where it was basicallythe placeto be growing up.
Josh and Gina’s mom was the perfect sort of mom. She cared when you spoke and genuinely asked how your day was when you arrived from school, never bothered by where you dropped your backpack. She always made the best snacks she’d lay out, “just in case you’re a bit peckish,” and never minded when I ended up staying for dinner—or well past dinner.
I often didn’t want to go home to where I was living with my grandmother before she passed away my senior year. After that, I was eighteen, and no one else seemed to question how I was doing on my own. The small two-bedroom single-story house that hadn’t been updated since it had been built in the ’50s, however, was quiet. Too quiet.
“You never said where you got your job since you moved here,” I said, trying to keep Josh talking so that I didn’t go through all my past memories of the town and house that paid for my tuition, though not much else in the condition it was in.
His forehead creased. “I didn’t?”
Maybe Gina was right in the fact that I had been acting weird around the house. Sure, Josh wasn’t there all the time, but when he was, I hid in my room and only came out for water and the few snacks I stashed in the back of the cabinet.
“I got a job back in IT.”
“Big, fancy start-up work again?” I kind of thought when he had dropped off the face of the earth two years ago that he was done with all that, though it made sense. It was what he had gone to school for, and he clearly was good at it. “I thought you were over all that.”
“Oh, I am. I don’t think you could pay me to go back to another tech start-up or whatever again.” He chuckled. “Nah, done with killing myself to not even live. You don’t need to, and in the end, I didn’t care all that much about what I was even doing. Not like some of the guys I’m still friends with who are there. Anyway, I got a good gig working in a middle school a few weeks ago.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. The technology called to me once more, and I answered. It is just in a different, lessI want to gouge my eyes out so I never have to look at a screen ever againkind of way. I’ve been working at the school for the past few weeks, drinking all the coffee I want from the teachers’ lounge and plugging in computer chargers for technologically challenged almost retirees.”
“Wow. Sounds like you’re loving it.”
“You know what?” He looked like he really considered that. “I think I am. Or at least liking it enough, which I’ll take.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” I said quietly.
Josh looked up. “What do you mean?”
“To the city. Home.” I shrugged, offering both options like one might feel safer than the other. “You seemed like you were doing fine out there—traveling, living your life … with everyone else you were traveling with.”
I took another sip of my sangria, letting the warmth of the brandy smooth out the edge in my voice. Hopefully, it masked the fact that I’d seen nearly every photo he’d posted over the last two years—sparingly, yes, but enough to remind me that he was still out there, still moving. Still not here.
“I did enjoy it,” he said after a beat, his tone gentler than I’d expected. “A lot actually. Turns out, there’s a whole world to see when you let yourself look.”
He gave a half laugh. “Pretty sure my bank called twice just to check that I wasn’t having a midlife crisis. Quarter-life?”
“Were you?”
He grinned. “Honestly? Probably. But I think it worked. Got just enough vacation time banked from that ‘big, fancy corporate’ job—your words, by the way. Figured I should use it while I still had it. Life’s short, you know?”
“So you said,” I murmured, not trusting myself to say more.
Josh leaned back slightly, his fingers toying with the corner of the menu. “But, yeah, I’m back now. Zipper on my suitcase finally gave out. I took it as a sign. Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“I don’t mind,” I said before I could stop myself.
And I didn’t. Not even a little. Which was a problem.
