I hazard a glance at Jo, contemplating if I want to peel backthe layers of things I never talk about. Her eyes are filled with so much empathy, so much compassion, it makes me want to tell her everything.
“I’d lie awake at night, going over my day like a checklist—almost compulsively, asking myself if I did enough. And the answer was usually no. In college it all got to be too much. I found myself taking on things that I should have left to someone else, jumping in feet first anytime I thought someone needed me. I started seeing an on campus therapist and it helped.”
“Well, thank god you got help. So many people don’t. You might have been responsible, but it was never your job to do all that.”
Forcing a shrug, my eyes flick to hers and back to the road.
“I did what I had to do and it paid off. Mom was able to focus on Austin and Cassie. Their lives improved, and eventually Austin’s career took off. It all worked out.” It’s a neat and tidy summary for a time that was anything but. Those years were heavy and had a lasting impact on my life. Then, throughout Austin’s career, I’ve been the problem solver—it’s hard to know when to stop.
Jo watches me wearing a knowing look, the one that makes me think she hears the words I don’t say aloud. Hell, she works with struggling teens regularly, she probably can.
Something else hits me. “You know you played a part in Austin’s life, right?”
“I don’t know about all that. I’ve tried to be a good friend to him and support him and Penny, but that’s nothing special.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I might never have heard of Singing River Sound if you hadn't mentioned it the night we met. So in a roundabout way, it’s because of you that he’s here. You put the plan in motion without even realizing it.”
“That feels like a stretch, but tonight I need that win. I’ll take it.” Jo smiles over at me, and I squeeze her hand.
We fall silent for a long while, the music filling the space between us.
“Did you ever take time for yourself?” Jo’s voice breaks through the quiet. “Dating? Friends? I know you played basketball, so there’s at least that.”
I look over at her, trying for a grin to lighten the mood. “You fishing for details on my dating life.”
Jo smirks. “Sometimes you’ve got this resting stressed face.” She scrunches her features into an exaggerated grimace, and I can’t help but laugh. “Just making sure you lived a little. Wondering if there are any other mini-Tylers out there walking around.” She mimes two little legs with her fingers, walking them across the console.
My mind goes to my past relationships, always ending for one reason or another. When my high school girlfriend moved back to Texas after college, we gave it a go again. We dated a few years, ending in a proposal where she said no. She was right to do so. I was always traveling with Austin, and couldn’t give her the attention she deserved. She told me my heart wasn’t in it, and I should figure out where my heart belonged.
I tried out a few more relationships over the years, but each time, it never felt right. As crazy as this sounds, if the woman had brown hair, I’d envision cornsilk locks with streaks of purple. Brown eyes would only make me think of blue rimmed in silver. I knew I was being unrealistic, holding every woman to a standard set by one night. But the more time I spend with Jo now, the clearer it is. The problem wasn’t them. The problem was they weren’ther. For a man with very little faith beyond what I can control, the fates sure stepped in here.
“I dated enough,” I tell her, keeping it vague. Then, because honesty is already spilling out of me tonight, I add, “I was even almost engaged once.”
Jo’s eyebrows lift. “I assume it didn’t work out?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I admit. “Even with Austin’s career pulling me in every direction, I wanted a family.” My jaw tightens as I search for my next words. “But the truth is, she wasn’t right for me. She wasn’t even close.” My eyes flickerto Jo’s, a thoughtful crease forming between her brow, like she’s reading between the lines of what I’m saying. “And for the record,” I add, my voice going soft, “Abby is my only mini-me.”
She smiles, eyes lingering on the side of my face.
With my gaze fixed back on the road, I ask, “Jo, sweetheart…do you shoulder all this alone?”
Jo releases a long sigh. “Completely alone. My mom drifts in and out of my life on a whim. She has effective personality disorder and refuses medication or any kind of help. Plus, she has terrible taste in men, and is never without a man in her life. That’s one of the many reasons Mawmaw raised my brother and me.”
“And your dad?” I ask gently. “Where is he?”
Jo gives a shrug, rolling her lips in. “A classic example of my mom’s terrible taste in men. He was gone before I was born. Found out Mom was pregnant and left. My brother’s dad left us, too. My mom had no money, no place to stay other than her station wagon. We’d been setting up camp in the back of it every night to sleep, rationing what little food we had. That’s what Abby meant, by the way. When she said I have food trauma.” Then Jo’s face brightens. “But Mawmaw found us not long into our station wagon camp outs. I was six, and Chris was two. We were basically feral at that point, raising ourselves. She moved my brother and me in, and tried to get help for my mom.”
This woman. She’s been through so much, yet despite her claims to be a leaky faucet, I’m with her granddad. From where I’m sitting, she’s still tough as nails. I make a silent vow to her: whatever I can take off her plate, I will. She doesn’t have time in her days for anything extra, but I’ve got all the time in the world for Jo, Abby, and Jay.
“And your brother?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
Jo laughs, a sardonic, hollow sound. “Christopher means well. I truly believe that. I love him to death, but my word. Ifman-childing was an Olympic sport, his neck would strain under the weight of all those gold medals.”
I laugh at her description, and she goes on. “Honestly, I don’t even know where he is right now. Last I heard, he was living in Indiana, couch-surfing, hopping from one job to the next, no stability whatsoever.”
I push my tongue into my cheek, staring out at the road ahead. Her life has been filled with abandonment—her father, her mother, brother and then her husband. No wonder she insists she doesn’t need anyone. When that many people leave, including her piece of shit ex-husband, it makes sense that she’d learn to lean only on herself.
The GPS alerts that we’ve arrived at our destination, right as the hospital comes into view. I park in the first spot I see, and Jo is already unbuckled and hopping out to dart across the parking lot before I’ve even turned off the ignition. Entering through the sliding double doors, I spot Jo, tapping her nails impatiently at the information desk, glancing around for someone who might work here.
