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She didn’t blame him and would have gladly picked one up.
Dropping her bag on the counter by the door, she called his name again. Made her way through the dining room to the living area, turning on lights as she went.
“Johnny?” Hand to her chest, she could feel her heart pumping hard. Too fast.
Something had happened to Johnny. She couldn’t breathe for a second and then, gasping for air, or maybe exhaling a sob, she ran for the front door and didn’t stop until she was on his step, knocking at his door.
“Johnny?” she called again, completely overwhelmed by panic. Telling herself to calm down. To quit being such an idiot.
There was no reason to cry.
Johnny was fine.
He’d probably just had something better to do that night than cook for her and print a list. The work was almost done. He knew pretty much everything she did about Jackson and Mark.
And he had other people in his life, even if, for the past nine months, he’d chosen to have little contact with them. His sabbatical was three-quarters done. The food truck was going to exceed all goals. Perfectly natural that he’d be thinking ahead. Making moves to resume his real life.
That thought didn’t help stem the tears.
There was no answer to her knock. Stubbornly she stood there, knocking again. Ringing the bell. Calling his name.
What if he was inside and in trouble? Should she call the police, ask for a wellness check?
And if he was just out, which was more likely considering that there were no lights on except the one he usually kept burning when he was going to be out past dark, she’d show herself for the fool she was in calling the police.
Could be he’d had a call from his parents. What if one or the other of them had fallen ill? Or someone else in his family had?
Could be she’d be traveling to San Diego by herself in the morning. Staying in a much more affordable and modest hotel.
Could be...
Her phone rang. She’d failed to remove it from the front shirt pocket of her scrubs when she’d dropped her bag on the counter.
She grabbed the phone. Saw Johnny’s caller ID and felt the sweetness of relief.
He was fine.
And she was fine again, too.
Chapter Eleven
Day too nice to waste. Decided to take plane up. Heading to Phoenix. Not sure when I’ll be back. Don’t count on dinner.
Johnny mentally replayed the text he’d sent earlier that day as he listened to the ring on the line, waiting for Tabitha to pick up. Hoping she picked up.
And hoping to God he hadn’t screwed up past the point of them being able to continue on with their plans. Tabitha was such a loner, so independent... Would she shut him out once she knew he’d been so messed up he’d had to get away from their life and back into his own?
“Hello?” The sound of her voice sent spirals of relief through him. At least she was still talking to him.
“Hey, listen... I’m sorry. I had a bit of a brain fart earlier and... I’ve got takeout barbecue with all your favorite sides. If you haven’t already picked something up...” Johnny wanted to just keep talking, to prevent her from mentioning the damning text message he’d sent, but ran out of words to string together.
He’d screwed up, gotten weird on himself, which he still didn’t understand so how could he explain it to Tabitha? He needed to reassure her it was no big deal.
But he’d sent the damned message...
“Why would I have picked something up?” She sounded perplexed. Okay, maybe his text message hadn’t been as bad as he thought.
“I just—good, then... So, you haven’t eaten.”
