Adam woke Joan early the next morning. She'd grumbled something and rolled over. Knowing they needed to leave soon if they were going to fit everything in, he leaned over her and whispered, "I'll make it worth your while."
Joan glanced over her shoulder at him. "And how do you intend to do that?"
"Get up and find out," he challenged.
With a squinty glare and a groan, Joan pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed. "This better be good," she warned as she bundled her necessities in her arms and headed to the bathroom.
Forty-five minutes later, they were on their way to the coffee shop for breakfast. The walk perked Joan up considerably and she peppered him with questions about the itinerary for the day throughout the walk and breakfast. It wasn't until they got on the subway that she quieted. As she leaned against him like she always did when they rode the train, Adam let his thoughts wander to the night before.
When they'd gotten back to the dorm, they'd lain on his bed and watched television until neither of them could hold back their yawns. Then, turning their backs to each other and resisting the urge to peek, they'd changed into their nightclothes and, much to his surprise; she'd slipped into his bed and beckoned him to join her. "Are you sure?" he'd asked.
"We're too tired to do anything, Adam," she'd told him as she patted the bed and turned over.
Hesitantly, he'd gotten into bed with her, ready to make a pallet on the floor at the first sign of discomfort. She'd pulled his arm around her waist and fallen asleep almost instantly. Adam had lain awake a bit longer, enjoying the feel of her in his arms and hoping that this was a sign things were back on track for them.
"Aren't we supposed to get off here?" Joan asked, jolting him out of the memory. "Make a transfer or something?" They got off and just barely caught the 6 train uptown.
They began the day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which Adam confessed was his favorite place in the city. He kept up a running commentary in the Sculpture Court and the Greek Gallery, which he was surprised she paid attention to. After a couple of hours, they left and strolled through Central Park. Once they'd roamed through Rockefeller Center, they picked up some hot dogs from a street vendor (Joan couldn't seem to get enough of them) and made their way to Times Square. They ended their sightseeing tour at the New York Public Library. She had questioned his choice of a finale but fell silent as they passed the massive stone lions. Her jaw dropped as they walked around; occasionally she'd point out some aspect of the architecture that particularly impressed her.
Joan chatted excitedly the whole ride back to the dorm. Adam listened patiently, an amused smile on his lips as he answered her questions. This was how he'd intended her first visit to be before they'd run into his friends and he'd felt compelled to save face in front of them. The more he thought about that odd moment, the less he understood why he'd acted that way. His first year he'd spent every weekend exploring the city, guidebook in hand. So had Joe, Tyler, and Ashley. When had they become such snobs about living here when none of them were from big cities? Looking at Joan now, her eyes shining as she recalled their walk through Central Park, he wished he hadn't wasted the last visit with all of the angst and misunderstanding.
"Maybe we should forget the shopping and do some more sightseeing tomorrow," Joan pondered as they got off the subway. "What do you think?"
"Your call."
"Are you sure?" she asked. "If there's something else you'd rather do . . ."
"All I want to do is spend the weekend with you," he assured her.
They walked the rest of the way to his dorm planning what they were going to see the next day. After a stop to pick up his mail, they went up to his room. Most of his mail was junk, but he came across one that had Jason Marks Art Academy printed on the front.
"I didn't see the Statue of Liberty last time," Joan said, flopping on his bed. "We could do that tomorrow."
"Do you want to go to it or see it from the ferry?" Adam asked as he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. Quickly skimming it then giving it a more thorough reading, his jaw dropped when he realized what it meant.
It wasn't until he felt Joan's hand slide down his arm that he remembered she was even in the room. "Are you okay?" She peered into his eyes, concern clearly etched on her face.
"Uh, I . . ." His mind went blank. How was he going to break this to her?
"Adam?" she said when he didn't continue.
"Maybe you should sit down, Jane."
She shook her head, a frown forming on her brow. "I think maybe I should stand for this."
Sighing, Adam tried to find the words, but couldn't. He knew she wasn't going to like this. Eventually, he simply held the letter out to her.
"What is this?" she asked, taking the letter and reading it. He watched as understanding dawned on her face. Her mouth tightened and she blinked rapidly, but didn't speak.
Finally, he couldn't take her silence any longer. "Say something, Jane."
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Art camp. In the Catskills. For the whole summer. Of course."
"This wasn't my idea, Jane. The guy who runs it is a world-renown artist," Adam explained. "He spoke in my Intro to Sculpture class, liked my work, and asked to see my portfolio. I didn't even know this was going to happen. I swear I didn't know he was going to invite me."
"It's okay, Adam," she said, nodding as if she were trying to convince herself as well as him. "This is why you came here, right? To take advantage of all the opportunities New York has to offer. To become a better artist."
"Yeah, but . . ."
"Can we not talk about this right now?"
"There's more."
Joan stared at him, dumbfounded. "What more can there possibly be?"
"I, uh, I . . ." He paused, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. Finally, he decided to just say it. "I applied for a semester abroad and it was approved for fall."
"What?" she whispered. "Where?"
"Florence."
"Italy?"
He nodded. "I just got the letter Tuesday."
"Italy?" she repeated, her voice rising sharply. "You're going to Italy and you didn't tell me this, why?"
"I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you."
"This wasn't it."
"I know. I just . . . Jane . . ." he stammered as he cupped her face in his hands.
She brushed his hands away and backed away from him. "So what are we going to do? Huh? You're going to be in the mountains the whole summer—I assume without any outside access—and then you're going halfway around the world. We're not going to see each other for the rest of the year. Longer even since I'll probably be back at school by the time you get back. If the last two years are any indication, I won't see you 'til next March."
"Nothing's definite, Jane. It's just an invitation and an acceptance. No decisions have been made."
"Oh, come on, Adam," she exclaimed, glaring at him. "You've been invited to attend an invitation-only art camp by some renowned artist and you're going to turn it down? You have the chance to go to Italy to study art and you're going to say no?"
"I don't know. I don't . . . what do you want me to say, Jane?" He ran his hands through his hair and tried to think of a solution to their dilemma. "W-We can make this work. I'm sure we can."
"Right."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Joan gave a sardonic chuckle. "It means we can't even manage being two hundred miles apart. Do you honestly think we're going to overcome thousands of miles and six to nine months without talking?"
"We'll write . . ."
"It won't work. It hasn't been working and we both know it."
"So you're just giving up?"
"I don't know what else to do," she shouted. She bit her lip, which had begun to tremble. "We can't keep doing this. We can't keep pretending."
"I love you, Jane," he said quietly. "I never pretended that."
"I know. I love you, too, but I don't fit in your life anymore."
"You don't fit or you don't want to fit?"
"You're the one who's going to be gone for the next six months."
"Come on, Jane, you barely had time for me when I visited. I felt like I was intruding."
"Don't you dare go there, Adam."
"Why not?" he demanded, feeling the first strands of anger in the pit of his stomach. "It's not like you've gone out of your way to make this relationship easier."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that cramming your days with clubs and meetings and badminton doesn't leave a lot of time for me, does it?"
"I can't believe you're blaming me for this!"
"I'm not blaming you," he retorted.
"That's what it sounds like."
"I'm just pointing out the obvious."
"Excuse me for trying to have a life."
"Does your life have to include an entourage?" he asked.
Joan's mouth fell open. "What are you talking about?"
The anger that he was trying so hard to keep at bay exploded. "You know exactly who I'm talking about, Joan!"
Joan's breath came out in a huff, like he'd punched her in the stomach. Her face crumpled and he'd never seen her look so devastated. He felt a little sick knowing he'd caused that look, but he had to know how she really felt about him. Even if it hurt.
"What are you asking me?" she asked softly.
"You know."
She shook her head at him. "Spell it out."
He closed his eyes and forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Do you have feelings for him?"
"How can you ask me that?"
"How can I not, Jane, when you're willing to just end it?"
"Do you know how hard it is for me to even suggest this?" Joan wailed. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if that was the only thing holding her together. "Do you have any idea how much I wish things were really okay with us? Or how often I've gone to sleep wishing you were five minutes away instead of three hours away?"
Adam nodded. He wished for the very same things. "I think I have a pretty good idea, but you still haven't answered my question."
"No, my feelings for Eric don't go beyond friendship."
He snorted in derision. "You couldn't even spend the week with me without mentioning his name several times."
"Eric and I are just friends, Adam. That's it. Don't try to put your guilt about leaving on me!"
"I have nothing to feel guilty about!"
"Then why didn't you tell me?" Joan's voice cracked and Adam knew she was on the verge of tears. He knew he should stop, that they should both stop, before one of them said something that was beyond taking back.
"I didn't know how to tell you," he admitted in a soft voice.
"You didn't used to keep secrets from me!"
"No, that was your job, wasn't it?" When her eyes widened, he wished he could take back the words that hung in the air between them.
"I never lied to you." The tears that had been threatening to fall finally did. And Adam felt like an ass.
"Let's talk about this when we're both calmer," he said, reaching out for her.
Joan shook her head and wiped furiously at her eyes. "No, we need to talk about this now. Eric said that when he and his girlfriend…"
"God, you can't even argue with me without bringing him up!" Adam roared.
"I told you before. Nothing is…"
"Are you sleeping with him?"
"WHAT? No! What kind of question is that?"
"Well, you sure as hell aren't sleeping with me!"
Joan's mouth dropped open and the enormity of what Adam had just accused her of hit him full force. "I can't believe you'd say that," she said in a low voice. Without another word, she pulled open the door. A bewildered Corey stood in the hall, keys in hand poised to unlock the door. She shoved him out of the way and left.
"Man, we can hear you all the way down the hall. Is everything…" Adam roughly shoved past Corey and chased after Joan. He caught up to her one block over as she hailed a taxi.
"Jane!" he shouted. "What are you doing?"
A cab stopped in front of her and she jerked the door open. "I'm going to the train station."
Adam closed the cab door and shook his head at her. "It's rush hour. You're going to wind up sitting in traffic."
"I don't care," she declared as she brushed his hand away from the door and opened it again.
"Damn it, Jane," he sighed, shutting the door again, "you'll just waste money. Do you even have any money on you?" Joan stopped trying to open the door. Adam took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Look, you don't have any money and you don't have your bags. Let's go get your things and we'll take the subway. If you really want to go."
"Fine," she said, heading back to his building.
Joan thanked the agent and took her new ticket. Slipping her backpack on her shoulder, she scanned the floor around her for her duffel bag. Realizing she didn't have it, she began to panic when she noticed Adam leaning on a nearby pillar, her duffel in his hand. He looked up at her as if he could feel the weight of her gaze on him. Her heart lurched at the sorrow and regret she saw in his eyes. Ignoring the pain that steadily pierced deeper into her being with each passing second, she tossed her hair back over her shoulder, adjusted her backpack, and approached him. "I can take it from here," she told him as she reached for her bag.
Adam swung the bag out of her reach. "I'm not going to let you wait alone," he said before turning away from her and winding his way through the crowded depot to the seats near the platforms.
She hurried after him. "You don't have to do that."
He stopped in mid-stride and stared back at her. Now he looked offended as well as sad. "I am not going to leave you here alone," he stated, enunciating each word as if he wanted to avoid any misunderstanding.
"Fine." Tamping her temper down, she followed him through the station.
After wandering around for a few minutes, Adam finally led her to a row with empty seats. They sat opposite each other; he settled her duffel between his feet and she fiddled with her backpack. It was easier than looking at him.
Joan could still hear his accusations ringing in her ears. Are you sleeping with him? Well, you sure as hell aren't sleeping with me! How could he even think she'd do something like that to him? The anger and shock and hurt bounced around inside of her, making it difficult to concentrate on something, anything, else. Why wouldn't he just go away? "I just missed the last train," she said into the heavy tension. "The next one won't be here for another thirty minutes."
"Okay."
"You don't have to stay."
Adam turned his hardening gaze on her. "You can't wait to get rid of me?"
"That's not true and you know it," she snapped. "I just don't want you to feel obligated."
"You've been my girlfriend for the last four years. The least I can do is see you on the train, don't you think?"
Sighing, Joan nodded and let the silence settle between them again. Four years. How had they come to this after four years?
"I'm going to get something to drink," Adam said suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. "Do you want anything?"
"No. Thank you."
He stood, set her bag in his seat and walked off into the crowd. Joan released the breath she was holding and dropped the angry countenance she'd been wearing like a shield. Her pain outweighed her anger and she embraced it. The fear and the panic crashed over her. How was she going to get on without him? Adam was such a huge part of her. Why couldn't he, didn't he, trust her? Didn't he know that he was it, the only one she'd wanted since she was sixteen? That she couldn't imagine being with anyone else.
"Here."
Quickly regaining control of her expression, she looked up to find Adam standing over her holding out a small plastic bag. "What's this?"
"Snacks for the train," he answered, his voice as reserved as his stance.
"You didn't have to," she said quietly as her tears got the better of her. Why did he have to go and do such a thoughtful thing for her?
His face softened and she knew he was trying not to violate the new, unspoken rule between them: that he'd lost the right to comfort her. She could tell that he wanted nothing more than to sit next to her, wrap her in his arms, and make this whole nightmare go away. Joan wished more than anything that he could. With a small smile, she took the bag. "Thank you."
"Sure." He sat and rested his head on the back of the bench.
She looked in the bag and found a huge muffin, a couple of candy bars, and a bag of cheese curls. Fighting back a fresh bout of tears, she tucked the bag in her backpack. "Adam?"
He didn't lift his head or open his eyes. "Yeah?"
"What happened to us?"
Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself up and rested his arms on his knees. "I don't know."
Joan leaned forward, too. "How could you think I'd do something like that to you?"
"You're giving up on us, Jane," Adam said simply. "You don't give up on anything."
"But to accuse me of cheating? I'd never do that."
"Neither would I, but that didn't stop you from thinking I could."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.
"Thanksgiving," he reminded her. "You didn't say the words, but we both know you thought it. And you had nowhere near as good a reason to feel insecure as I do."
"He's just a friend," she whispered.
"You may be his friend," Adam said quietly, "but he isn't yours. Jane, none of them are."
"What?"
"All those guys that hang around you? They like you, Jane. They want more than friendship from you."
Joan shook her head. "You're just being paranoid."
"Or maybe you're just being blind," he countered. "You are beautiful and smart and warm. There's . . . I've never been able to put my finger on it, but there's something special about you, Jane. I'm not the only one who knows that."
"You don't how much I love that you see me that way, but not everybody does."
"I'm not the only one who's noticed," Adam sighed. "And even if all your guy friends didn't have a thing for you . . ."
"Which they don't."
"Eric does. He wants you and, not only do I think you know that, I think you're flattered by it."
She hated to admit it, but what Adam had just said stuck a nerve. And she wasn't willing to look at it more closely. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"I'm not the only one with admirers, Adam."
He stared at her, confused. "Are you talking about Caitlin?"
"And Ashley."
His mouth dropped open. "Ashley?"
"Don't tell me you don't see it."
"I don't," he shrugged. Sighing, Adam grabbed her bag and moved next to her. "Ashley doesn't really appeal to me."
Joan let her head fall back on the bench. "I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"Because, despite everything, I don't see how," she stopped and summoned her courage to say the words neither of them had used yet. "I can't see any way around breaking up."
Adam raised his eyes to hers. "We could try harder. Give up some things."
"Like my friendship with Eric?" she asked, her voice slightly bitter.
"I'm not going to lie and say I wouldn't like you to do that," Adam admitted. "But I was thinking you could give up a club or two."
"And what would you give up?"
"What do you want me to give up?"
Joan propped her chin in her hand and contemplated his question. Finally, she said, "In a perfect world, you'd leave NYU and transfer to Maryland."
He smiled and she gave a sad giggle. "I've actually thought of that a couple of times," he confessed.
"Really?"
Adam nodded. "You have no idea how much I miss you. But you said 'in a perfect world,' so what do you want me to give up in this imperfect one?"
"Honestly?" she said. "Your friends." He gaped at her and Joan shrugged. "They were mean and snobby to me over break. They acted like I was inferior because I wasn't an artist and I'd never been to New York. When you're around them, you become this totally different person, this bizarro Adam. And, frankly, I don't like him very much."
"Jane."
She took one of his hands in hers and gave him a sad smile. "Don't worry. I'm not asking you to give them up. Even if I thought it would make a difference, I wouldn't ask you to do that."
"Why wouldn't it?"
"Oh, honey, even if you gave them up and I gave up some clubs and Eric, it wouldn't change anything. You'd still be going away for the rest of the year . . ."
"I don't have to."
"Yes, you do," she said vehemently. "You came here to become a professional artist and these are amazing opportunities. I'm not going to let you pass them up because of me."
"Can't you wait for me?" Adam asked, his misery a frighteningly accurate mirror of her own.
"Even if I waited, which I'd totally do for you, we'd still have the same problems when you got back. They've been building for two years and they're not going to go away."
"So we work at it. Just because it's hard doesn't mean we have to break up."
"I think that if we stay together, we'll just end up hurting each other worse than we already have."
"Do you think this is any less painful?"
Joan opened her mouth to answer when her train's arrival was announced. She gave a little gasp and closed her eyes against the panic resurfacing inside of her. It couldn't be time yet. She wasn't ready.
Adam squeezed her hand in his, seemingly oblivious to the fact that in a few short minutes, she was going to be on the Metroliner trundling back to Maryland. "Jane?"
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, fully aware of the tears welling in them and blurring her vision. She tried to smile but her face wouldn't cooperate. Instead, she extracted her hand from his and cupped his face in her hands. "You are the best thing . . ." she paused as a sob threatened to overwhelm her, "the very best thing that has ever happened to me."
"Please don't leave, Jane," he pleaded, his hands desperately gripping her arms. "Come back to the dorm and we'll talk about this. All night if we have to."
Brushing his tears away with her thumbs, she leaned forward and pressed her trembling mouth to his, trying to convey with her kiss the depth and complexity of her feelings for him. When she pulled back, she caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. Her heart broke once more at the thought of leaving her beautiful boy. God, how was she going to leave him? "I have to go. It's time."
He shook his head, denying her words, even as she nodded. She stood—her arms slipped through his grasp—and gathered her bags. "Goodbye, Adam."
Joan turned and went down the escalator to the platform, praying she made it onto the train before her will gave out and collapsed into a quivering, sobbing mass.
"Jane!"
She quickened her step, trying to outrun him.
"Jane," Adam said, his arms slipping around her.
"Please don't make this any harder than it already is," she begged him.
"We don't have to break up, Jane."
Easing out of his arms, she led him to the side of the platform and faced him. "Yes, we do."
"No . . ."
"Yes!" she practically shouted. "We do. We do because we aren't good for each other anymore."
"You're saying that after one fight?" he demanded.
"I'm saying it after a year of sniping and doubting and hurting each other," she exclaimed, desperate to make him understand. "We aren't the same people we were that day in your truck or at graduation or who kissed in a shower of feathers at a school science fair. They don't exist anymore. We're all that's left and . . . we don't fit together."
He looked like she'd ripped his insides out and decimated them. "So that's it," he asked finally. "It's over."
She didn't even bother to wipe away the tears streaming down her face as she nodded. They were nothing compared to what was to come, she knew.
"But . . ." Adam folded his arms over his chest. "I don't know how to be without you."
Dropping her bags, she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around him, her face buried in his neck. His arms came around her, crushing her to him. When she felt stable enough to look at him, she pulled back and said, "I don't know how to be without you either."
"Then don't be."
Her hands fisting in his hair, she stared in his eyes. "Go to art camp. Go to Florence. Go and be brilliant."
"No."
"Become everything you came here to be."
"Jane, no."
"If you don't then all of this is for nothing. I don't want to feel like this for nothing. You have to make all of this worth it."
"We don't have to . . ."
She laid her fingers over his lips. "I love you, Adam. I never imagined love like this was possible."
Adam stared at her, really stared, for a long moment. Finally, resignation snuffed out his hope and Joan felt herself die a little at the bleakness in his eyes. "I love you, too," he murmured.
"Promise you won't forget me," she whispered.
"Jane," he said, a mix of nostalgia and reproach in his voice.
"Promise."
"I will never forget you." He brushed the hair off of her wet cheeks. "Remember me."
Releasing her death grip on his hair, she slid her hands to his jaw. "To my last breath. Maybe even beyond."
He gave her a watery smile. She returned it. Then his lips were on hers and she let herself get lost in this one last kiss. When the kiss ended, Joan glanced at the line over her shoulder as Adam ran his fingers through her hair. If she didn't leave soon, she'd miss it. "I have to go."
"I know."
"Please don't hate me."
"I'll try."
Joan chuckled sadly. "You're supposed to say 'never gonna happen.'"
Adam shrugged. "It hurts too much for me to promise that right now."
She nodded. She guessed that made sense. "Well, even if you hate me for a little while, never doubt I love you."
"Okay."
"Okay." She picked up her bags. She began to back away from him.
He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. "Goodbye, Jane."
Sniffling, she managed to smile back. "Goodbye, Adam." Unable to bear standing there any longer, she turned and ran to rest of the way to the train. She handed over her ticket and boarded.
She stuffed her duffel in the overhead bin and sat in her seat next to the window. Closing her eyes, she said a brief prayer for strength and looked out of it. Adam still stood on the platform, staring at her with sorrowful eyes. He raised a hand in an almost imperceptible wave. She waved back. They stared at each other until the train pulled off and they couldn't maintain eye contact any longer.
Joan settled back in her seat and pressed her fist to her mouth. Closing her eyes against the flashing scenery, she gave in to her sorrow and let the tears come.
A/N: I have three things to say in my (and, to some extent, KateM's) defense. One, this is an angst/romance. Two, the title is The Way Back to You. Three, I warned all potential readers in chapter two. That's all I have to say. Alexandri.