If you didn’t get it then someone else did.

Jovie left me a note. How did I miss it and why am I so sure she’s telling the truth?

She never was the type to lie to me. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose, but I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t that time. If Jovie Ross left me a note and the contents of it could have changed the course of the last four years, then I have to know about it. I have to know if there’s something I could have done differently — even if ignorance is bliss.

I pull into my parents’ driveway and park my motorcycle near the garage. Jovie said she left the note on my window but what are the odds of it still being there now?

I walk around the right side of the house until I come to my window. Just looking at it from this side brings me a wave of nostalgia. All the times I snuck out of it. All the times Jovie snuck into it.

I check the outer window sill but there’s nothing there and there’s no sign of it in the grass beneath it either — not that a note would have survived the elements for four years anyway.

I reach into my pocket for my keychain and pinch the spare house key on my way up the porch.

“Mom?” I announce as I step inside.

“Will?”

I step down the hall as she pokes her head out of her office. “Hey, Mom.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks, smiling.

“I just came to check for something in my room. Do you mind?”

She shakes her head. “No, not at all. Go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

“You okay?” She tilts her head. “You’re looking a little queasy.”

“I’m fine,” I say, continuing through the house toward my old room. “No appointments today?”

“Came home for lunch,” she shouts across the hall. “I was just on my way back out.”

“Ahh.” I push open my bedroom door. “Don’t let me keep you. I’ll lock up.”

“Okay!”

I walk to the window. My dresser sits beneath it, strategically placed there in my youth to allow me or Jovie to slide in and out without making too much noise. I search the top but, just like four years ago, there’s nothing there. Just a few old pictures and a bottle of old body spray that I’m a little embarrassed to admit I used.

Did she lie?

Or did someone really find it before I could?

Or maybe…

I lower down to the floor to peek beneath the dresser.

Shit.

I push back up and pull it away from the wall. It grinds against the wooden floor as I slide it forward and scratches even more as I shove it to the side.

My stomach turns. A folded up piece of notebook paper rests on the floor. I know not to get my hopes up. Jovie left me notes all the time; maybe once a week from ages sixteen to eighteen. This could be from any one of those times but the only way I’m going to know for sure is if I pick it up right now and read it.

Every instinct in me battles it out as I bend down. Part of me thinks I should just burn it. Whatever is written here won’t change the past or make me feel any better about the last four years. But it could answer questions. Ignorance is bliss. But Jovie is, too.

I unfold it and stare at the white space until I finally bring myself to read it.

It’s her handwriting. It’s a little sloppy but it’s hers.

I sit down and lean against the drawers. The metal handles dig into my back, keeping me from resting too comfortably but it’s not like that’s even possible right now.

She wanted me to know she was gone. Not only that, she wanted me to move on. She didn’t want me to sit around, pining for her, wondering where she went and whether or not she was safe but that’s exactly what I did.

If I had seen this back then, would it have been different?

Would I have gotten over her faster?

Would I have gone after her?

Fucking hell.

“Whatcha doing on the floor, honey?”

I look up at my mother standing in the doorway. She zips up her coat and slides a beanie hat over her thick, brown curls.

I fold the note and stuff it in my jacket pocket. “Nothing.”

She wanders in and sits on my old bed. “Is this about the Ross girl?”

I sigh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Are you seeing her again?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s not what I heard.”

I frown. “What have you heard?”

“That you two made quite the scene at Lucky’s bar last night,” she says, smiling.

“Who did you hear that from?”

“Sara.”

I scoff. “And where did she get that from?”

Mom pauses to think. “She said that Drew Warner’s fiancée told her that her roommate’s little sister was tending bar and caught a front row seat to the entire spat.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, that traveled fast.”

“William, nothing travels faster in this town than tales of you and Jovie Ross.” She smirks. “What’d you make a scene about?”

“We didn’t make a scene,” I say. “We just had a very… animated conversation.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know…” I rise off the floor. “How you been, Jove? Why’d you take off? What are you doing back? Where the hell have you been this whole time?”

“Did she answer any of those?”

“Not really, no.”

“That might be for the best.” She shifts into a comforting tone. “Jovie was a lot of things. Independent, spontaneous—”

“Infuriating.”

“And smart,” she finishes. “If she doesn’t want to tell you where she’s been, she probably has a good reason for it.”

“I know.” I exhale hard. “It’s not my business but it is my business if the answer to any of those questions is me.”

“Give her time, Will.”

“I gave her time, Mom. I gave her four years.”

“Then, you give her more time. You give her all the time in the world because you’re right — it’s not any of your business. Even if you’re the one who pushed her away in the first place. Even if you’re the one who brought her crawling back here after all this time. It’s not your business until Jovie decides to make it your business and you need to come to terms with the fact that that may never happen.”

The pang in my chest travels through my toes and back. “Damn,” I say. “That’s some tough love, Mom. Thanks a bunch.”

She smiles. “Tough is my favorite kind of love. It always ends in comfort food.” She rises off the bed. “Come on. Your dad doesn’t know that I know where he hides the good Oreos.”

“No, you should get back to work. I’m fine.”

“I’m sure Beverly Trin won’t mind waiting an extra ten minutes on Novocain before I yank her molar out. Now, come on.”

I follow behind her, feeling that note burning a hole in my pocket all the way to the kitchen.

Don’t wait for me.

It was right there on torn paper this whole time.

That night, Jovie packed a bag. She got in her car to leave town but she stopped by my parents’ house first. Usually, her notes would be perfectly slid into place between the window and the sill, trapped there so nothing could accidentally pull it out. This one was tossed inside.

She was in a hurry.

What the hell were you running from, Jovie?