CHAPTER TWO

Margo

“No.”

I couldn’t get the word from my mind, a flat refusal to believe what I had seen. Now, I was saying it out loud.

A negation. Denial is the first line of response, or so my friend Alexandra told me after she’d finished her psychology degree. I suppose she was right, because all I could think of was a big denial.

No. It can’t be him. No way.

But it had to be. No one else had those blue eyes, that soft sandy hair, that strong jaw. No one else had those massive shoulders and that hesitant smile and that way of tilting his head. And no one had any reason to look so shocked at seeing me.

“Jay?” He looked like he’d just woken from a nightmare.

“No,” he said.

Lance looked at me, then turned around to face Jay. “Margo, what did…oh.”

My brother stared too. He knew exactly who he was. We’d met at a party, but it was when Lance and Jay met that I’d finally decided Jay was really as wonderful as I imagined. Lance really liked him. Now, Lance looked at him with a strange mix of horror and compassion.

“Hey,” he said. He got his face into neutral and walked over. “Uh, Jay?”

I saw Jay stiffen and he looked as if he was going to run. Of all the people who knew him, I knew that expression the most well.

“Jay!” I said, heading suddenly over. “It’s me! Margo. Hi!”

He looked at me. His blue eyes were cool and bleak.

I shivered.

“Margo,” he said softly. Even his voice was different, the arid sigh of a breeze over tarmac. He sounded so distant, so cold and sad. “Hi.”

I stared. “Jay, it’s me. Where…what…I’m so pleased you’re here.”

I reached up and hugged him. I couldn’t quite believe I did that, but I couldn’t help it. The instant I did, I wished I’d not. The scent of him filled my lungs and almost made me cry.

I hadn’t smelled him for years—the spiced cologne, the warmth, the traces of aftershave and, more distantly, the traces of sweat—not offensive, just healthy and warm and masculine. I breathed it in and felt as if my heart would crack.

“Jay,” I said.

He stiffened, and I stopped immediately. I wanted to touch him, to feel that warm, firm chest that I remembered so well under my hands. Where had he gone? I wanted to ask so much. But he looked awkward and uncomfortable, surprising me.

“Margo,” he said again. “I…I should go.”

That was enough. I felt almost four years of hurt mix inside me. “Jay, no,” I said. I hadn’t raised my voice, but I saw him tense as if I had.

“What?” he said coolly.

I laughed. “You’d think you might say something more than that. It’s been years. And where…”

“Margo, I have to go.”

I closed my eyes. He was already trying to head back. I could see that was hard for him—he was quite injured—and I didn’t want to humiliate him by getting in the way. I sighed.

“Okay,” I said.

“Bye,” he said.

I wasn’t going to cry. I turned my face away. “Bye,” I said.

He headed off.

I stayed where I was, turned away. Then I heard my brother.

“Come on, Mimsy.”

He always called me that. I felt the familiarity soothe me. “Okay,” I said.

We headed to the car, his suitcase behind us.

When we reached my car, I got in behind the wheel and he sat down heavily beside me. I watched him lean back, eyes closed. He’d just flown in from Long Beach and I should have had some compassion—he’d been traveling for hours.

“Let’s go, then.”

I eased our car into the traffic and we headed home. I tried to watch the road, but I wasn’t thinking about driving.

“Thanks for fetching me,” Lance said. “It’s great to see you. How’s Mom?”

“She’s okay,” I said. I felt dazed. It was all really unreal, talking about things like travel, flights, care. I was lost in the sight of my hero.

My Jay.

I wanted to ask Lance if he knew anything. He hadn’t told me anything, really, about Jay, but if he knew anything, he was quiet. I knew Lance—he’d say something if it was relevant and when he thought it was a good idea to say something but not a moment sooner.

“Weather’s great, huh?”

“It is springtime,” I reminded him.

Lance laughed. “Yeah. It sure is. I’m even tanned.”

I grinned at him. He’d gone to Long Beach for a weekend, and he was spending the rest of his holiday with Mom and me. Then he’d head back to Kenosha where he worked as a consultant. I had no idea what he did, other than that it involved large sums of cash and it was something he did entirely at odds with his hobby of kitesurfing. And it sounded confusing. Well, not that kitesurfing didn’t, but it was confusing in another way. Though kitesurfing also involved risks, if a lot of sunshine too.

“Well, you’re more tanned than me, Lance. I need to avoid sunshine.”

He smiled. “You know you’re always beautiful.”

I glowed. His gentleness made up, at least in part, for how unkind Jay had been. It was weird. Why had he just ignored me? It was really rude considering he disappeared from me in the first place. I sniffed.

“Mimsy?”

“Mm?”

I blinked, trying hard not to cry.

“It’s because he’s injured. That’s why he’s ignoring you. He doesn’t…”

“Lance, did I say I was upset?”

He looked at me with tenderness. “Well, not really.”

“Exactly,” I said tightly. Man, why did my dumb voice have to wobble like that? I didn’t need Lance feeling bad for me.

“Mims, I should have told you what I heard,” he said. “When he had his accident…” he trailed off as I interrupted angrily.

“I don’t want to know. Okay? Can we just pretend I never saw the guy?”

Lance sighed. “If you want.”

“Fine.”

I stepped savagely on the gas and we shot out through the light as it changed.

When we got to Lance’s hotel, I stopped and then looked at him sorrowfully.

“Lance, I didn’t mean it,” I said.

He smiled. “I know you didn’t. I get it. And if you want to talk, just say so, Mims.”

I nodded. “It’s just…I’m confused. I’ll talk when I’m not as badly confused.”

He laughed. Those brown eyes twinkled cheerily.

I reached over for a hug. He hugged me back. The gear shift dug into my ribs, and I didn’t care. I could smell the comforting presence of Lance, and I felt better.

“You look after yourself,” he said, looking into my eyes tenderly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Yes.”

We squeezed hands and he slipped lithely out of the car and headed off, suitcase behind him. I watched until he’d gone into the place and then leaned on the steering wheel miserably.

Why is it that the one guy I care about, Lance aside, is so unkind?

I didn’t know how to understand what Jay just did. I hadn’t seen him for years and here he was treating me like I didn’t exist. Or, worse. Like I did exist and somehow that was bad.

I drew in a shuddering breath and looked at my reflection. My makeup had run and there were dark streaks down my face. I reached for a tissue and dabbed away the tears. Then I drove off.

When I got home, my mind was still full of Jay. I couldn’t believe it. I had seen him after almost four years. As if he’d never gone, suddenly he was here in Milwaukee again with no explanation of where he’d been for the last while. And no sorrow for having walked away.

“Well,” I said aloud, angrily, “if he can’t say sorry after four years, then he can just go away.”

I wasn’t about to hunt down a guy who wasn’t really interested. Why would I?

But, then again, the more I tried to forget about seeing Jay, the more it haunted me. I kept on thinking of him, seeing things that made me think of him, smelling him. From the sunset outside my window, I remembered watching it with him from the hilltop that time we’d headed to Green Bay, and the marigolds in the window pot. He was allergic to them and they made him sneeze. The whole house was full of him.

“Get outta my head!” I groaned.

I wanted to shout at him. I went through to the kitchen and cooked dinner. Then, while I sat eating it, I thought of a plan.

He’s got to be online somewhere.

Everyone had some kind of presence, surely even a football player who’d vanished. If I wanted to have words with Jay, I just needed an email. Or a phone number. Or Facebook.

I should just walk away. Why would I want to take time in pursuing a guy? I could take Alexandra up on her offer of going out to find a date if I wanted to. We were planning to go to Singles Night or something. So why should I be bothered with someone who had no interest in me?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it wasn’t exactly because—though I wouldn’t say no—I wanted Jay with me now.

I just wanted an explanation.

That was all I wanted from him now. I didn’t need remorse or regret. All I wanted was to understand why he’d left me, what had happened, and where he was. And why, now, after four years, he still treated me as if I was some poison?

I sighed and pushed my plate away. I was sad. My brother was right, despite my trying to pretend he wasn’t. I stood, closing the curtains where yellow sunshine leaked slow nostalgia across my tabletop. I was too sad already to want any more tender reminders.

In the living room, I reached for my phone.

I did a search. The Jay Locke profiles that came up weren’t him. Not Facebook. Not Twitter or LinkedIn or any of the other social media sites. If they had people of that name, none of the pictures were Jay. Well, to be fair—if he had a Facebook, it’d be full of media types wanting to hound him.

And Jay wanted obscurity. Or so it seemed, anyway. Ever since that one game where he’d been injured, I’d heard nothing about him. But surely, he must have some kind of contact details online?

I sighed. Not if he doesn’t want to be contacted.

I paged through the results, hoping for some inspiration. Then my eye landed on a hit from a college site.

“Jay Locke, graduation.”

I stared. He’d graduated in sports science last year. I felt a shiver of anticipation. This was crazy. I wasn’t on CSI Miami—who did I think I was, trying to find his details? Even if I found them, I might be too shy to use them after all.

I persevered. “Jay Locke, sports scientist.”

That search brought fewer results. On the second page, I found something.

“Nutrify, Houghton.”

I had found some sort of sports-nutrition supplier, and I scrolled down the list of consultants. The third one was Jay.

“Nutrify is a small but passionate enterprise dedicated to helping pros and amateurs alike have access to the best the sports nutrition field has to offer. With a small and motivated team of consultants, we assure the most recent…”

I read the motivation statement of the company with mild disinterest. The thing that was absorbing me was the picture of Jay. In a pale shirt with his sandy hair neatly combed and a tight smile on his face, he could have been a rep for any company.

Except that he had the huge shoulders of an ex-football player and that wide jaw and those melting blue eyes…

I put down the phone. I knew I might as well acknowledge it. I was in love.

I laughed. If it had been anyone but me, I guess it would have seemed funny. Or would it? If any of my friends had come to me for advice, what would I have said? I closed my eyes. I knew exactly what I would have said.

“Go for it. You only live once. Live happily.”

I copied the email address and pasted it to Gmail. Then I set about writing a letter. A hard letter to write too. What can you say to someone after three-and-something years?

Dear Jay.

I canceled that. Too formal.

Hi Jay. How’s it going? I know it’s kind of weird to write, but when I saw you, I couldn’t help missing you. I wonder how you are and what’s up. I’d love to catch up.

I read through it, brow raised. Was I thinking straight, to be being so direct? So honest? I sighed. I reminded myself of the advice I would have given anyone else in my situation—to go for it.

I closed my eyes and sent it.

Then I put my phone aside and went into the kitchen to make some herbal tea. I refused to keep on thinking about Jay. I’d sent the email and that was all I could do. If he read it and thought I was a loser, then he could just think that. It didn’t seem like he thought much better of me at the moment anyway.

I sighed and sat down heavily at the table, a cup of steaming mint tea in my hands. The steam drifted up, scented and calming. I drank it and wished that it could calm my mind like it calmed my body.

Not that, I reflected wryly, my body was calm. Not exactly. When I thought of Jay, I couldn’t help remembering how he touched me, how he kissed me. How he aroused me.

I sighed, feeling my insides ache. I wanted him badly. I shook my head, laughing at myself.

“Come on, Margo,” I told myself harshly. “Go to bed.”

I had a long day planned for tomorrow.