A/N: So remember what I said about the flashbacks coming into play? They come into play in this chapter just a little bit but not as much as they will be coming into play in a few chapters. Also, Alex drops a pretty big bomb on Jo in this chapter. I hinted towards it in the VERY beginning of the story...around chapter 3. If you didn't pick up on the hint, I explain it at the end of the chapter anyway. So enjoy!
I feel like my entire life has turned into nothing but moving cars, clear driveways and the sound of cheesy radio music. It took me a while to get to the point I'm at but I got here and now I'm going crazy. I'm so tired of being in a car. I'm tired of driving, I'm tired of looking out the window and seeing nothing but road but mostly, I'm tired of being stationary in one spot for hours on end. I don't mind being in his company—I don't mind that at all. But it's just so boring sitting in the car while we wait to get to our next destination. "Have you given anymore thought to what I said?" I know I probably shouldn't be complaining considering the fact that this is the last state we'll stay in before we get to California but yeah, I'm complaining. We stopped at the gas station to fill up his gas tank about an hour ago and we've been driving straight ever since. I tuck my sweaty hair behind my ear and look over at him. "Alex?" I know he's ignoring me. He ignored me last night when I first asked him the question and he's ignoring me now that I'm bringing it back up. If we were in Kansas right now, I wouldn't bring it up. If we were in Colorado right now, I still wouldn't bring it up. But being that we're about to exit Arizona and enter Nevada right now, I don't think we can put the question off anymore. If I' m not mistaken, I've asked him this once before and he just responded with "go to sleep, Jo." And I know for a fact that I asked him last night, right after we brushed our teeth to go to bed. He just refuses to answer and dammit, we can't put this off any longer. "Stop ignoring me Alex. I know you're ignoring me, you're blatantly ignoring me, STOP ignoring me."
"Is it so hard to believe that I don't want to talk about it? I don't want to talk about it Jo. I shouldn't have to talk about it if I don't want to talk about it." He grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are prominent through his skin. "No. I haven't given any thought to the damn question. You keep rushing it. We don't have to talk about this right exactly now, do we?" He glances over at me. I suck my teeth, roll my eyes and cross my arms in a pout. If he doesn't want to talk about it right now then fine, we don't have to talk about it. But when are we going to talk about it then? When my bags are packed and the plane is taking off? When I'm in freaking Massachusetts already? "Go 'head." He mumbles. "Say it." I shake my head and look out the window at the outskirts of the state we're leaving. We've been doing so well with no arguments for the day. The last time we argued was yesterday at the waterpark about him laughing at me. Since then, we've had no arguments. I know that the comment I need to make to him will cause an argument so I'm just going to keep my mouth shut. This is me picking and choosing my own battles. "Say it. You're not going to sit over there with a sourpuss look on your face. If you have something to say just say it."
"...Then when the hell do you want to talk about it, Alex? When my plane is taking off? When I'm on my way to my first class in Massachusetts? When do you want to talk about it? If not now, then when? We don't have an unlimited amount of time here. I'm leaving. I think we put it off long enough, don't you?" I turn my head so I'm facing him and he says nothing and does nothing but grip the steering wheel tighter. "Right. Just ignore me like you always do. Ignore everything, why don't you? Ignore the fact that I'm leaving, ignore the fact that I'm asking you a question, ignore me like you ignore every-freaking-thing in your life." I bawl my hands into fists to control the blossoming anger in the pit of my stomach. He remains idle, quietly driving his car along the road. The fact that he's quiet pisses me off more than he'd piss me off if we were talking. The fact that he's quiet just means that he doesn't have anything to say to me when in reality, he should have a butt-load of things to say to me. At this point, I feel like we're beating a dead horse when we talk about me and Harvard but at the same time, I refuse to leave him in the middle of things. When I leave, I want to know what the deal is between us. I don't want to spend the next four years across the country from him just wondering what life would've been if I had either stayed or he had come with me. I don't want to leave him without knowing where we stand because then, I won't want to stay. "...I know you like to act like you're all tough and you don't care about things, but see Alex, I do. I think about things. I'm not like you. I don't like to live my life on a whim. I like to know." I look at him again, expecting an answer this time around. He doesn't give me one. Instead, he just sits there and steers the car with catlike precision like he can do it in his sleep. "Why do you want to wonder, Alex?! Why do you want to live your life wondering what's going to happen?! I don't wanna wonder, Alex...I wanna know." Unsurprisingly, he says nothing. I exhale dramatically and run my fingers through my hair.
Why do I decide to put up with him? I'm really starting to question my freaking sanity at this point because isn't the definition of insanity—doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? I keep giving him chance after chance and I expect him to show me that he's more than just some callous asshole but he's not. He's not showing me it. Have I gone insane? Why in the hell do I decide to put up with him? I uncross my arms and rest my palms on the knees of my sweatpants. I can't even stand being in the same car as him anymore. I just want to know what we are to each other. I thought for sure we were boyfriend and girlfriend but I'm confused. Is he just someone that means a lot to me? Because boyfriends and girlfriends don't have as many issues as me and Alex do. No, boyfriends and girlfriends actually talk about the crap that's bothering them. Boyfriends and girlfriends don't just sweep crap under the rug and act like it doesn't exist. So what are me and Alex to each other? I sigh and gaze out the window and catch a glimpse of a sign that says "Welcome to Nevada!". Well we're in Nevada now...one more state until California and I still don't know what the hell is going on because he won't freaking talk to me. I know Alex's game though. I know that he doesn't like to talk about things that he deems as painful. If something is potentially painful for him then he won't deal with it right away. He'll toss it aside and deal with the feelings later and it always comes back to bite him in the ass. I put my head against the door frame and stare outside at the new state we just entered.
It doesn't look much different from Arizona. It's still pretty flat and dead. Everything is a shade of brown; light brown, dark brown, sand brown...it doesn't matter because everything is a shade of brown. I take my hands off my sweatpants and start to fold them when something bright pink in color catches my eye. I turn my palms up so they're facing me and look at them. Across them, right below the pads of my knuckles are symmetrical, pink scars. Scars that didn't scab over but just started to form new skin—which sounds kind of gross. I push on them with the opposite fingers and find that if I push hard enough, they ache a bit. With the ache of the scars comes the realization of why I put up with him. I stroke my fingers along the scabs—the burn marks.
"Come on, Jo...you're alive." Gentle but forceful slaps are trailed across my face. I am alive, I know that. But my chest feels so heavy and my eyes burn. I feel like if I open them, they're going to burn out of my skull. And my chest feels like there's a thousand pound weight on it. My throat is all...scratchy. It hurts to breathe. But I'm alive...I am that. "Come on." More slaps line my face and I feel a cough forming in the base of my esophagus. I squint my eyes before I open them just to mimic the gesture of blinking just to see how bad it'll hurt when I actually start blinking. It doesn't hurt too bad. I flutter my eyelids open and just a little bit, I'm shocked by the deep green eyes staring down at me—hovering like he's going to kiss me. Was he going to kiss me?
"Ehhhem… ehhem." A cough jolts my body and all I taste is soot in the back of my throat. I taste charcoal and smoke. I know how charcoal and smoke tastes because tonight wouldn't be the first time I've tasted the air of a fire before. My apartment burned down tonight and I swear, I was going to die. But he...he came and got me.
I put my palms down and try to force the memory out of my head. While my apartment burning isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me, it's definitely in my top five nights I'd like to forget. I don't ever want to feel that helpless again. That night, I really resigned myself to the fact that I was going to die. I accepted it, I knew it was going to happen and really...I didn't mind it happening. I knew I was going to die and I really didn't care. I think a small part of me wanted to die in that fire. The part of me that pussyfooted around the day I almost committed. The part of me that talked myself out of it. The part of myself that was just too damn cowardly to actually do what I wanted to do that day. Yeah, that part of me wanted to die in that fire. If I was too much of a wuss to do it myself, at least the fire would've done it for me. A part of me—a very small part, but a part nonetheless—wanted to die in the fire. "...Why'd you save me?" I don't even turn to face him because I don't feel like I can. I feel like my thoughts are being written in the sky for him to see. It's as if I can't face him because he can tell that a part of me wishes he would've let me burn to death. He knows that I wish he wouldn't have even came to my rescue. I know my thoughts are just contained to myself, in this tiny little minute brain of mine. But I can't stop the feeling that I have...the feeling that he knows what I'm thinking. "You didn't even like me back then but you still saved me. What was your reasoning back then?" I tuck my hair behind my ear and wait for him to answer.
I know very well that he didn't have to save me. Back when the fire happened, we didn't even know each other. I didn't know who Alex Karev was and he didn't know who Jo Wilson was. We didn't know each other from Adam...so I'm wondering what possessed him to come back for me. He could have skipped town and saved himself from the menagerie. He didn't have to risk his own life just to save mine. Maybe if we had fallen in love with each other before he went back in the building to get me, I'd understand his reasoning better. But we were perfect strangers when he saved me so I'm just wondering what his logic in saving me was back then. It's not like he knew we were going to love each other when he went into an unstable burning building just to grab me. "My...uncle." He starts and...well, I didn't know how much I missed his voice until he started talking. I presume we were silent for only about...five or ten minutes but still, that was long enough for me to miss his voice. "My uncle called me and..." His voice trails off and I can tell that he's thinking that I'm trying to set him up for something. I'm really not trying to set him up for anything...I'm really just wondering. "My Uncle Buck. He called me and asked me if I was okay because he knew. I had called him earlier that day to tell him that somebody broke my window with a brick. Somebody smashed my window with a brick and there was a note attached. He saw the article in the paper and he called to ask if I was alright before I went to bed that night and I told him I was fine because up until that point, I was. Then he called back in the middle of the night to ask if I was okay again and I asked him why he was so worried and he told me that rioters were breaking into the store and trying to burn it down. And I was going to just leave town as soon as I could. I packed all my stuff up within half an hour and I got in the car and I was going to high-tail it to California. But then I kept thinking about how Pop's store was burning down...then I thought about how you lived above the store. And I had to at least try to save you...I couldn't have that on my conscience. Knowing that somebody died because I tried to write something...I couldn't live with that. So I went back in to get you..."
"So you only went in because it was going to weigh on your conscience if you let me burn to death." I snicker but not because I find it funny, rather because I find it particularly amusing. That sounds about right. That's classic Alex right there. Only concerned about how something's going to affect him? Yeah, that's Alex for you. "That sounds like you." I shrug my shoulders and resume looking out the window. Though he won't admit it, I'm pretty sure I softened him up a little bit. Before he met me, he was a real piece of work. He was rude, arrogant, selfish, snobbish, callous and downright cold-hearted. I softened him up. He actually thinks before he does things and I've noticed that he makes conscious efforts to be a nicer person. I won't say anything too soon though because I don't want to jinx it, but I can definitely say that Alex is a totally different person than he used to be two weeks ago. "Do you ever...regret going in the house...after me?"
He slams on the brakes in the middle of the freeway, the car jerks forward and I fly forward since I'm not wearing my seat belt. I catch myself with my hands on the dashboard just before my head bangs off it and the wheels on the car screech hard and loud like you hear in one of The Fast and The Furious movies. "Are you okay?" The car is still at a stop, dead in the middle of the freeway. My hair is all over my head from the sudden impact and I slowly lift my head up to see exactly what he felt the need to slam on the breaks like that for. I assume he was trying to avoid hitting something. When I look up at the road, it's clear. There's nothing he could've been avoiding. "Jo, are you okay?" He's looking at me but I'm still trying to catch my breath from the miniature heart attack he just gave me. He almost killed me! I look over at him with wrinkled eyebrows and a disgruntled expression. I'm so irritated with him right now. I shake my head at him and start buckling up my seat belt. Why the hell he felt the need to randomly slam on the breaks like that is beyond me. I know I should've been wearing my seat belt but still...he could've just killed me. He could've sent me head-first through the damn windshield. "Sorry 'bout that." He gives a real lackluster, half-assed apology that I don't accept. "You just surprised me with that."
"With what?" I'm still incredibly pissed off with him. "I couldn't possibly have warranted you to slam on the friggin' brakes like that. You could've freaking killed me, Alex! Watch what the hell you're doing!"
He eases his car back into drive and luckily for him, the brakes aren't damaged. He completely ignores me and moves on to the other subject at hand. "Why would you even ask me something like that?" The look on his face is focused. His eyes are dead on the road, his hands are holding the steering wheel tight and his mouth isn't turned up into a smile nor is it in a grimace. It's straight and emotionless. "Do you know how ridiculous you sounded just a minute ago? To even suggest that I would've wanted you to die...why would you ask me something so stupid? I mean really, Jo? Was that a serious question? You've said some pretty stupid things before but that definitely takes the cake for the stupidest thing you've said." I roll my eyes. "You really think I regret saving you? You really think for one second that I'd take back what I did? Take back saving you?" I bite my lip and stare out the window again because it's simpler to look out the window than it is to look at him. "...I wouldn't take back a minute of it. I'd do it all over again at the drop of a hat. You get on my nerves, you pick with me, you irritate the hell out of me, you're a pain in my ass. But I've never regretted it, no. I've NEVER regretted it. In fact...sometimes, I feel like that's the only thing I did right in my life." He mumbles that last part and I can hear his insecurities seeping through his voice. "No...I don't regret saving you."
I lick my lips and stop looking out the window. I look down at his seat cushion and take a breath. Time for me to be 110% honest with him. "...Sometimes I wish you didn't." I say that so low and inaudibly that he had to really be listening in order to hear it but like I said before, I know Alex and I know that he listened. He always listens when I talk...that's one of the many things I love about him. He always, always, always listens. I twist a strand of my hair around my finger and nibble on it.
"Why would you say something like that?" He asks me that like he's unsure of what I even said. It's like he's trying to figure out how to approach what I just said. I get it though. What I just said was pretty heavy...I admit. I slouch my shoulders, sigh and pretend to be interested in my hair. "Jo..." He calls my name and I can't bring myself to look at him. What if he feels guilty? Knowing that I wanted to die, I mean. What if he feels guilty for saving me? I mean...he shouldn't. He shouldn't feel guilty at all because I am eternally grateful that he did what he did. In saving me, he gave me...hope, kind of. It's like...I thought burning would be the answer to everything I ever wanted. It'd be the answer to ending my miserable, pathetic, mediocre life. I thought the fire was a sign that it was my time to go be with mom and dad. But really, the fire was my beginning. I met him...I met the love of my life. And while he can't completely fix me and the heaviness I carry around in my heart all the time, he sure has helped me. So maybe the fire wasn't supposed to be my ending. Maybe it was supposed to be my beginning. "Jo, why would say something like that? Don't let me hear that come outta your mouth again. Don't go around saying stuff like that. I would... I would lose my MIND if something happened to you. Don't joke like that. Don't let me hear you joke like that."
"Not joking." I mumble. See, this is why I never wanted to tell anybody that I was/still currently am the "s" word. Nobody believes me. I told Paige that I was thinking about it before she took me out to get drunk after mom died. She said, "shut up, Jo. Everybody loves you...it's just the grief talking." She didn't believe me when I said it. I didn't even believe myself, if I'm being honest. I always thought I was the "s" word but I never really believed myself until I was so incredibly close to taking those pills. That's when I started thinking that I was really...really...suicidal. Just my luck that I tell Alex and he doesn't believe me either. He thinks I'm joking. Tell me, what part of I'm...suicidal, sounds like a joke? I still don't even like saying the "s" word but it's what I am. And I'm so scared that once I go to Massachusetts all alone without him, I'm going to do something to myself. I'm so scared that the kind of depression I had during my sophomore year of college will come back. I'm not as strong as I was back then, what if I can't handle it?
"What are you saying right now, Jo?" Just our luck, he spots an exit that leads to a gas station and even though I know this is a clear detour from getting us to the hotel we're supposed to be going to, he takes it. "What are you saying to me?" He speeds up and makes it to the gas station within seconds. I roll my eyes and fold my hands in my lap. If I knew he was going to make a deal out of it, I wouldn't have told him. I guess maybe that's why I haven't seen a shrink for my issues. Because I really do hate talking about it. I just hate looking weak, you know? I survived multiple foster homes. I survived almost being burned to death TWICE. And I can't survive a little depression? I hate looking so weak. I wish I had never mentioned it to Alex now. I don't feel like telling him about it. He pulls into a parking space in the parking lot of the gas station and parks the car without hesitation. I twist my hair around my finger again and look out the window at all the Nevada residents dressed in their daisy dukes and thigh-high boots. "You gonna tell me about it?" He asks and being very honest, I shake my head. "Alright. I'm not moving this car..." He starts. He unbuckles his seat belt and scoots over so he's literally sitting on the median. He's sitting on the cup holders in the middle of his seats. He puts his arms around me and squeezes so tight that it hurts but at the same time, it feels good. "I'm not moving this car and I'm not letting you go until you talk to me about it. I have all day." I sigh. "So if you're not joking then tell me what you're talking about. What's all this about?"
"...Did you know I almost burned to death? Twice?" I sidetrack the conversation with another topic. I know he's not going to let me go until he at least feels like I'm telling him new information. If I reiterate some of the things I've already told him, he'll feel like we're not getting anywhere and he'll never let me go. This way, at least I'll get him to let me go. It's not exactly the information he's looking for but it's something new and it'll trick him into thinking that I'm actually opening up to him. So I'll start with that. "Yeah, the first time was when I was seven...and I was in my...fifth foster home. The um...the couple I got placed with...they were way strict and they didn't really like little girls. So I...I was supposed to clean up. After everything I ate, I had to clean up. I was eating chocolate ice cream one day and I got it all over the white table cloth." I'm actually surprising myself with how much of this I'm able to regurgitate. I thought I had forgotten all about this incident but as I'm talking about it, the details are just flourishing in my head and spilling out of my mouth. "And they locked me in the basement as punishment. It was the middle of a brutal winter and I was freezing down there. So I knocked on the door to ask for a blanket since I was cold...and nobody answered. I found a lighter and I remembered back when my foster father lit the grill up once and it was warm so I thought I'd light a fire to keep myself warm. I did but I caught the downstairs curtains on fire and almost burned the whole house down." I take a break in talking. "...I guess every since then, I've been sort of a fire-phobe. I don't like lighting lighters and I don't like the Fourth of July. My stoves can't be gas otherwise I won't cook on them...they have to be electric. I never have candles on my birthday cake and I can't strike a match without pissing my pants. If I'm faced with fire, I usually just shut down..."
"Really?" His arms are still around my body which tells me that he didn't forget the topic we're supposed to be on. Damn, that usually works. Damn. "...I dunno if it's a phobia but I don't like closed doors." He shrugs his shoulders and pulls me a little bit closer to him. "In houses, that is. Closed doors are cool as long as they're keeping somebody out but I don't close doors in my house. All my doors are open except for my front door, which is shut and locked at all times. My bedroom door has to be open, my bathroom door, my office door...all doors have to be open. They can't close." That's weird. I guess when you look at it, maybe my fire phobia can be weird but not as weird as his OCD about doors. "Walked in on my mom cheating on my dad when I was nine." He opens up to me a little bit and I appreciate the effort he's making towards making me feel comfortable. It's working...sort of. "I opened that door up and saw her on top of some dude that wasn't my dad. She told me to play the quiet game but..." He swallows. "When you're a little kid like that and you don't know what sex is...I thought somebody was in there hurting my mother. So I told my dad...they got into a big ass argument and that's just another way I contributed to my parents' divorce." That's rough for a nine year old to walk in and see that...dang. "Ever since then, I haven't liked closed doors. Closed doors are cool...as long as they're keeping somebody out. Never when they're keeping somebody in..."
"And I don't sleep." I add on to the confession about my fear of fire. I think this is when I'm at my most content. When I'm in Alex's arms and we're just talking. I feel like I know all I need to know about Alex already but I'm always game to learn more about him. I'm always up for knowing all there is to know about this man. And equally, he seems interested in hearing about me as well. So as long as this is keeping me from having to talk about me being the "s" word, I'll take it. "I think I've told you that before but...I really don't sleep. Sometimes I have...nightmares, I guess that's what they are." I shrug my shoulders. "And they're really bad nightmares. I'll wake up screaming or sweating and it gets pretty intense. I used to be scared to fall asleep. My parents had to take me to this doctor...and I got put on medication to help me sleep but when my parents died, the insurance lapsed and all that...so I couldn't keep getting my sleeping pills." I bite my lip thinking about something else I can tell him because I don't feel like that "confession" was deep enough. It's kind of like a game we're playing to see who had it worse. To see who can one-up each other. "...And I was on pills for my anger issues. I'm...I get violent. Like...punch holes in things, break things, shatter my phone violent. I broke a girl's arm...in grade school. For pulling my hair." I hear him gasp which makes me smile like I won this round. "I didn't think I hit her that hard though. I punched her in her shoulder and she came back the next day with a sling. All I got was a note sent home to my parents though."
"I used to get violent." He admits. "But my dad used to take me to the batting cages whenever I got angry...so I could take the anger out on the balls instead of people. Then he made me take up wrestling. You ever try putting your anger into a sport?" I shake my head. "You should try. I bet you would've been killer in softball with that kind of strength." I nod. He rubs my back and while I know that sitting on the cup holders can't possibly be comfortable for him, he's not complaining. "...You ready to spill your guts yet?"
I just shrug my shoulders. "It's not a big deal, really." I take a deep breath before I start because this isn't something that I just deal with. I usually just brush this stuff aside and deal with it at a later time. This isn't something I just freely talk about. "I already told you how sad I am. I'm sad all the time though, not just once every blue moon. I'm sad all the time. It's constant waves of sadness. And it's just like...sometimes I wish I could just...die. Sometimes I think about ending it. I mean...it crosses my mind daily. I think about offing myself daily but I've only actually considered it..like twice. Once when my mom died and once when I got fired from my job." I don't want him to feel guilty so I just omit the fact that it was him that fired me the last time I contemplated suicide. "I'm depressed, Alex. Nothing anyone says or does takes it away. I'm just always upset. Always. It's like living with a rain cloud over your head and someday it rains, other days it doesn't but it's still there. But..." I feel tears coming on so I try to fight them. I look up at the ceiling and wipe my nose. "With you, it hasn't rained in a while. It hasn't rained in...in two weeks, it hasn't rained. And that's amazing to me. That's...that's amazing. It doesn't rain with you. You're the only person that took the rain away, ever. And now I'm just scared..." I swallow a lump in my throat and a couple tears fall. "I was so strong my sophomore year of college. I put down the pills. I had them to my lips and I swear I was going to do it...I don't know how I stopped but I did and I'm sitting here to tell the story. So now I'm scared... like..." I wipe my tears...pesky tears. "What if you're the only person that can do that? What if I...go to Massachusetts, whatever. But what if I never see you again after that?" I have tears in my eyes but I look him in his eyes. His eyes are so warm and understanding. "I don't want to never see you again..." I wipe my tears again. "You make the rain stop...what if it starts again? When you're gone?"
Without any further word, he takes the sleeve of his shirt and wipes my face—running nose and all—off. He cradles my face in his hands like I'm gentle and if he's too hard, I'll break; and he wipes my face so gingerly. "...I'll tell you one thing for certain..." He uses his fingers to wipe around my eyes better. "If you don't go to Massachusetts and you stay with me...that storm cloud over your head will get bigger...and it'll rain...every single day because you didn't go. You will regret giving up...you will. And I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to let you give up on something that you want. That cloud over your head will only get bigger if you stay. It might not get bigger right away. It might get bigger ten...twenty years down the line, but it WILL get bigger Jo. If you stay, it'll get bigger."
"So why can't you come with me?" I just blurt it out.
"...I have a job offer out there." He mumbles and his face falls flat...like he's wincing at the thought of disappointing me. My heart feels like it was just deflated. I have no hope for this anymore. "I wasn't gonna take it but I did. After sending all their emails to spam, I finally emailed them back a couple nights ago when we were in Colorado. They offered me a stable writing job. I submit manuscripts to them once a month and the first five chapters of my new material are new on the fifth of every month. As long as I submit the chapters to them by the fifth of every month, I get $12,000 a month...a MONTH. I have to stay in California though...because I have to report for meetings every so often. I got a job in Burbank...only a half hour drive from Long Beach." He kisses my forehead as if that's going to make anything better. "You told me I shouldn't give up on my dream...and I'm not. This is my dream job, Jo... Harvard's your dream and this is mine."
I put my head down and try so, so, SO hard to hold back the onslaught of tears but I can't. They come barreling down and a wail comes out of my mouth. "So this is really gonna be goodbye, isn't it?" The tears are just pouring out of my eyes. "No...Alex, there has to be some way... there has to be..."
"...There's no way, Jo. Everything's set...you're going and I'm staying." He starts wiping my face again. "Babe, please don't cry..."
"...We can try long distance." I sniff and wipe my face and nod my head eagerly. "We can go long distance...we'll...we'll Skype and FaceTime every night. And...and you can fly out once a month...we can do this...we can do this." I'm desperate, aren't I?
"That's not going to work and you know it won't." He holds onto my hands. "Jo..." He starts but I really think he might cry too. "...Someone told me..." He clears his throat. "Someone told me that...sometimes love is stepping back from a situation because it's the right thing to do. She...she told me that sometimes love is walking away. ...I don't know much...and I don't listen to much that this person says, but I think she might've been right on the money with that one." He clears his throat again. "I love you...and I know you love me...so we have to let each other go. Because sometimes love is letting go."
"...You really believe that?"
"I do. I love you so I want to see you happy...so I'm letting you go." He kisses my forehead again. "And if you love me like I think you do, you'll understand why I have to stay and follow my own dream..."
"...I understand it...doesn't mean I like it." I try to pull myself together.
Screw love.
A/N: So remember in the earlier chapters, after Alex fired Jo and he said he was waiting for an email from his publisher but instead, he got one from a spam account instead? Yep. That was the job in California.