Page 135 of On His Mind

She’s watching my mouth. Her smile goes slow.

“Wanna know something crazy?” she says quietly.

“What?” I lean back against the counter.

She takes her time, blinking slow, spoon paused. “I miss you.”

I shake my head before I’ve decided to. “That’s not crazy.”

“No?”

“No.” I have to look down at the floor to get the rest out. “I miss you too.”

“You do?”

“Of course.” I make myself look up at her. “How could I not miss you, Penelope?” There’s a pressure building behind my ribs now.

“You never texted me,” she says. The softness has gone out of her voice. “You never reached out. Not once.”

“You left.”

She laughs, but there’s nothing funny under it.

“You didn’t come back,” I say.

She goes quiet. “Yeah. I didn’t.”

I scratch at my jaw, hunting for something to do with my hands. “So. How’ve you been?”

“I don’t know,” she says.

The honesty of it lands somewhere tender. A few beats pass before I try again. “You’ve had a few tonight.”

“I have.” She nods down at the empty container. “It was needed.”

“Why’s that?”

She sets the spoon in the sink carefully, like it’s the one thing in this room she gets to control. “It’s better than crying.”

Shit.I drag a hand down my face. There’s no good place to put a sentence like that. It just sits between us, and I can’t find a single word big enough to answer it with.

“Do you even care?” she says, so low I almost lose it under the hum of the fridge. “Do you ever even think about me?”

“Yes.” It comes out rough. “Penelope. I care. You’re — you’re always there. On my mind. You don’t leave.”

“Then what is it?” She won’t turn around. Both hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring out the black window over it. “What is it, Percy?”

I push off the counter and cross to her. I don’t touch her. I just come to stand at her shoulder and look out the same dark glass she’s looking out of, our reflections faint in it.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“I think you do.”

I shrug, and my shoulder brushes hers. “I’m not good at this.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “At what?”

“At talking.” The word comes hard. “I don’t know what to say. Most of the time I’ve got nothing, and by the time I’ve found the thing I should’ve said, everyone’s already moved on.”