I left it on the desk, so he’d see it immediately. It wasn’t long. I’d thanked him for offering me the room. I’d thanked him for reassuring me on the roof, for making sure I was okay. But I had to go back to my old life, and that meant no Jordan, no Kian, and certainly no history that could harm either of us.

I had wanted to sign it as Jo, but I’d signed it with my real name. It’d been so long since I had written Jordan, and it felt right, but like Kian, I had to let that go, too. That also included seeing Snark since I wasn’t technically in the Witness Protection Program. He’d used his resources to help me get a new life. I needed to not see him again and stand firm in who Jo Keen was, not who Jordan Emory had been.

Avoiding the elevators, I left the hotel by going down the stairs. When I got to the lobby, one of the newspaper people was there. He was the guy who had given me a hard time, Bob, and he was scanning the entire lobby. I was guessing that Erica had sent him to look for me, but I didn’t want to hear any message she might’ve sent with him. Erica thought her life was going to die if I wasn’t there just because Susan would find some way to stab her in the back. It was a lie. Erica would do just fine. Their interview would do wonderfully. Erica didn’t need me to hold her hand to make that happen.

When Bob went to the restroom, I slipped through the lobby. I didn’t see an approaching bus, and I didn’t want to wait, so I grabbed a cab. Once I gave him the address, I sent Erica a quick text.

I’m okay. Panic attack. Going home to feel better.

I hit Send and then added another one.

You’ll do great! Kick interview butt!

I was a few blocks from my apartment when I got a text back. Expecting a response from Erica, I saw it was Jake instead.

You okay? Went to your job earlier. They said you were sick.

Jake.

Good Jake.

Normal Jake.

The Jake who ran away from a bunch of thirty-year-olds.

Jo’s Jake, not Jordan’s Jake.

I changed my mind and sent a quick text to him.

Where are you?

My place.

I leaned forward and told the cab driver, “I need to go somewhere else.”

After giving him the new address, I texted Jake.

I’m coming over.

I expected a text back but never got one.

When the car pulled up to the house Jake shared with a bunch of guys, I saw why. Ten cars were lined down the street, and another six were squashed in the driveway.

Jake was having a party.

Once the cab left and I headed to the front door, I had doubts. Maybe I should leave? He hadn’t texted back.

Hearing loud music and shouts from inside, I opened it and bypassed the doorbell. I doubted anyone could hear it anyway.

It’d been so long since I was at Jake’s house. He had four other roommates. I’d met two of them during our brief fling but not the others. Jake hadn’t been close to them, only the two I’d met. Stepping into the living room, I didn’t recognize anyone here. A baseball game was on the television, but only three guys were paying attention. They lounged on the couch while others in the room were talking among themselves. A group stood in one corner, and another stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen. I glimpsed a full kitchen and then stepped aside as four more guys ran down the stairs behind me and went around into the kitchen, through the kitchen, and out the back door.

This was a full party, like a real party. It wasn’t a shindig or a gathering.

I moved into the kitchen, grabbed a mini bottle of wine, and headed out to the backyard. Was Jake going to invite me to this? Was that why he’d stopped by at my job? I doubted it. I still didn’t see anyone I recognized.

I noticed Jake was in front of his garage. A basketball hoop was nailed to the top of it, and he lined up for a shot. The ball went through the net and bounced, and then it was caught by a guy and passed right back to Jake. He hadn’t texted back because he was shooting hoops.

But then I saw Tara standing on the sidelines, watching him.

I stood there, just staring.

I should leave, but he’d see my text whenever he checked his phone. He’d know that I was there—or at least that I was going to head to his house.

Seriously, what was I even doing here in the first place?

I came so I wouldn’t think about Kian, the interview, or angry Erica. That was why. I was using Jake, and remembering the last time I saw him, shame flooded me.

I needed to go. I shouldn’t be here.

Before I could though, Jake turned and spotted me. His eyes got big, and he caught the ball, freezing in position.

Another guy came up, hit the ball out of his hands, and dribbled to make a layup. He pointed at Jake. “In your face, Monroe!”

Jake wasn’t paying attention. He started for me, lifting his hand, as if to touch me. “Jo.”

Tara’s head whipped around. An instant glare formed in her eyes, and she crossed her arms over her chest. The two girls with her looked, too. They all seemed confused until she leaned over, and her lips moved. I was sure my name was uttered, and the other two adopted similar glares. All three stood as if they were facing off against me.

“Hey.” Jake raised his arms, as if to hug me. A second’s hesitation, and then he did. Stepping back, he glanced over his shoulder and then touched my arm. “Want to get a drink?”

I lifted my little wine bottle in the air.

“Ah. Uh…” He flashed me a grin, moving me back toward the house. “Want to come with me while I get a drink?”