ABBY locked her front door, still incredulous. She wasn’t sure what she had said to make him rush off. He seemed to lose it, and then he left. How could he be certain she knew anything at all from the few words she had said? She slumped down in the chair and picked up her glass of wine. She wasn’t hungry anymore, and she could barely manage a couple of sips.

She sent him two short texts after his limousine drove off, hopeful he would calm down and come back. He didn’t reply. He didn’t come back. What on earth did she say? All she said was she knew about the articles. She was honest. She told him she hadn’t read them. It didn’t make sense. None of his behavior made sense. But then again, why did she expect anything different?

She had suspected at one point he might have a mild case of PTSD. Adding that to the equation, and to the tidbits she had about his past, his erratic behavior made perfect sense. The PTSD patients she had worked with at the veterans’ hospital were like this sometimes. Little things would set them off, and often no one around them knew their triggers, which made it more difficult to understand the cause of their outbursts. They also had very little patience explaining themselves, or rehashing anything that remotely related to their traumatic events.

Andrew had not lost his temper tonight, but he was clearly upset. The way he got up and paced the floor, and repeatedly asked her if she knew… Knew what? For the life of her, she still didn’t know. She was tempted to turn on her laptop and check Becky’s messages. It was late. She was tired, and she still did not want to learn about Andrew that way.

Abby decided not to beat herself up about it anymore. She had not done anything wrong. It was his problem. It was his life story. The onus was on him to do the telling. She didn’t have any clue what she had said to make him leave that way. And he still hasn’t told me anything! Maybe when he calmed down, he would understand that all he needed to do was talk to her.

Sighing, she took the half-empty wine glasses to the kitchen and emptied them. She washed them, covered the casserole dish and put it in the fridge. They’d have to figure this out in the morning, or whenever he came around. She returned to her room, changed into her pajamas and crawled in between the sheets. She set her alarm and closed her eyes. Immediately, she remembered how handsome he looked when he had walked in. And he had smelled so good when he leaned down to kiss her. Her body ached for him. She hoped he would come around soon.

* * *

Abby woke up in the morning. She checked her phone right away. There were no messages from Andrew. He was probably still upset. She got out of bed and got dressed for her morning run. She had seminars on campus. It was a nice break from the long day at the hospital. Her seminars and weekly meetings with her independent project supervisor were on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. She was pleased she had been able to fit the hospital placement into her schedule by working Mondays and Thursdays. It left her Fridays and weekends free.

She let out a painful sigh. The pain hurt all the way to her stomach. She had been looking forward to being with Andrew that weekend. If he didn’t reach out to her soon, she would forget about it and make other plans—and these days, other plans meant staying home alone, or going on campus to do her readings.

She slipped on her running shoes, grabbed her keys and phone. The run this morning would do her good. She locked up and was on her way.

* * *

Abby returned from her extra-long run. She had gone for an entire hour. She did her stretches on the steps outside. This felt better. Her mind was more settled, her muscles ached, and she was drenched in sweat. It was perfect. The run also helped to calm her sexual need for Andrew. She had a shower and got ready to start the day. She wondered how he was doing when she locked up, hoping he would call soon.

All day long, she could think of little else. As she sat in her seminar, she found herself distracted, but only in moments. It was because of the subject matter. This week, there was a long discussion on the initial findings of the cancer immune targeting project. She and Andrew had talked about it not two weeks before. Her professor asked the small group of students for their impressions on the project, and what questions they might add to the scope. The group discussed the project’s potential, how it could extend the literature and improve treatment plans, both in theory and practice.

Normally she would be the first one to engage and offer some suggestions. Today she was hesitant. Today she wanted to listen more than to share. She was not herself. She couldn’t claim to be as excited as she would normally be. At the end of the session, she packed up quickly and went home.

Her father phoned later that evening.

“Abby, sweetheart. How are you doing?”

“Hi Dad. Doing well.” She kept it to casual conversation. “I started my new placement at the hospital yesterday.”

“That’s great, honey. How did it go?”

“I enjoyed it a lot. Exactly what I see myself doing.”

“I’m happy to hear, love.”

“Is everything okay, Dad?”

“Yes, love. All is well here. I phoned to tell you about the car. The insurance company has approved your replacement vehicle.”

“That’s good. Do I need to come back to Sparks for it?”

“No, honey. I made arrangements for you to pick it up at a dealership close to you. You can take the rental back anytime this week. Just get there before five in the evening.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. Probably on my day off on Friday.”

“Great, honey.” Her father paused, listening to the silence. “Are you sure everything is okay with you? You sound a little down compared to the last time we spoke.”

“Things are fine, Dad. I shouldn’t complain. School is going well. I’m enjoying my hospital placement. Everything’s good.”

“Okay honey.”

“Can I ask you something, Dad?”

“Of course. Go ahead. What would you like to know?”

“Have you met someone? During the blizzard? ”

Her father laughed softly into the phone. “You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Yes I did. I met a nice lady from the Tupperware group. She happens to live a few towns east of here.”

“That’s great, Dad. I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s very early, though, Abby. We’re getting to know each other. We’re not like you young folks. Everything takes more time with us. So far, she’s nice. I promise I’ll let you know if things get serious.”

“I hope it works out for you, Dad. Do you mind if I ask what her name is?”

“Carol. Carol Barts.”

“I hope it works out for you and Carol, Dad.”

“We’ll see, honey. Give it some time, and I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good. Glad to hear your voice. I’ll pick up the car by Friday. Love you, Dad.”

“I love you, Abby. Keep that chin up. Talk to you soon, love.”

Abby hung up. She was pleased her father had found someone. He deserved to be happy. She went to bed, hopeful for him, and tried her best not to dwell on Andrew.