Archive of Our Own ^beta

If Jo wasn't the best with words, she sure knew how to say fuck you and missed you with her body. The last two Christmases spent cold and lonely had left her bitter, and she was determined to take it all out on him.

It was different this time, somehow. Stupid romance novels might've been onto something after all. Knowing him, really knowing him, having met his family, seeing him around people who loved him, it messed with her. Made him more human, more worthy of her affection. And she despised it.

Despised how she wanted to squish his face in her hands sometimes just because it was there. Despised how her heart jumped whenever he kissed her, even if it was just a peck on the cheek. Despised how much harder it was to stay silent whenever they fucked.

She hated every goddamn second of it.

But the sex was great. And the greasy pizza they ordered after was even better. They ate half of it sprawled on his couch, Jo occasionally tossing sausage pieces into Brick's mouth like she was training a very lazy dog.

She had to work the next day, though, which was hell. When her alarm went off early as usual, the last thing she wanted was to get up, much less go back to pretending to be a functioning member of society.

Jo quietly pulled her bag together, tugged on her clothes, made sure she hadn't left anything lying around. But halfway to the door, she hesitated. The bedroom door was cracked open, and Brick was still snoring, starfished across the bed. 

He'd never know.

She hovered there for a second too long, annoyed at herself. Then she padded back across the room, leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, and sprinted the hell out of there before she could start hating herself even more.

Still, Jo kept herself in check. She couldn't morph into one of those people she'd always despised, all love no brain. She did her run, went home, put everything back where it belonged, showered, went to work.

Repeat. Pretend. Survive until December 31st.

That's when she saw him again.

Bundled in her winter armor, Jo stomped toward his car, the "presentable" pants Tom had bullied her into buying itching at her legs. She felt stiff, overdressed, and underprepared all at once. This time, though, she did bring the Christmas gift she'd bought him. Even if her gut twisted, whispering that he was going to hate it.

She shoved the little bag at him the second she slid into his car, cutting him off mid-lean when he tried to kiss her. "Here," she muttered, defensive already.

Inside was a black leather wallet. Good quality, real stuff. Still, she felt twitchy, like she'd done something wrong. "This wasn't cheap either," she clarified. "Real leather and everything."

Brick opened it slowly, smiling like he already knew it was perfect. "I did need a new one."

"Yeah, that's why I got it," she grumbled, arms folded tight.

Traffic was a nightmare, but Brick managed to weave them through it, heading downtown to where the crowds were already thick with people strolling, eating food off carts and staking out spots for the fireworks.

Jo ate like she was making up for lost time, sampling everything she could get her hands on. Brick bought one too big sandwich and they took turns biting into it, making a mess and pretending they weren't. And Jo had to admit it... they had a good time.

Her 5:30 a.m. alarm was already a death sentence looming in the back of her mind. She rarely stayed up past 11, but here she was, sitting on the grass with him, the cold biting at her bones. Brick's nose was red like some oversized Rudolph, and Jo was sure her own face wasn't any better.

She pressed her gloved hands against her cheeks, blowing warm air into them and cursing the universe for making her so vulnerable to basic human needs like not freezing to death.

Without warning, Brick slung an arm around her, tugging her close. 

Jo scoffed. "You're stealing my body heat."

"Don't be stingy."

She didn't lean in, but she didn't pull away either, balanced somewhere stupidly in-between.

He talked. About what, she wasn't really paying attention. His hand was heavy on her shoulder, warm even through the layers. Annoyed at him and her brain, she knocked his hat off as payback, chuckling under her breath. 

The fireworks eventually started; first one, then a hundred more blooming over the water. Everyone else cheered, but Jo just stared up at the sky, indifferent. Seen one, seen them all.

She felt more disconnected than anything. New Year's Eve, a reminder that time was passing whether you liked it or not.

What did make her chest squeeze was the way Brick's arm tightened around her.

She didn't look at him. Didn't dare. But their heads were pressed together, warm through the layers of wool, and she felt it before she heard him say it. Casually, like it wasn't a nuke he was dropping.

"Love you."

Jo didn't move, just stared up at the fireworks bursting overhead, feeling a heavy knot twist in her stomach.

Thankfully, Brick had to leave soon after. Two weeks away on some exercise, barely any time for his phone, swallowed up by whatever hell the military cooked up for guys like him.

Yeah, maybe it was a little annoying having him gone. Maybe she caught herself reaching for her phone like a dumbass once or twice. But if Jo was being honest, she needed the space. She needed to think, and thinking wasn't something she usually enjoyed.

She knew what he was doing. Brick wasn't some clueless boy she could shove around when it suited her. He was smart enough to say those words right before vanishing, smart enough to leave her stuck with them. He wanted her to think about it. Reflect. Feel something, maybe.

But Jo wasn't built for that kind of introspection. She didn't know what love was supposed to feel like.

Did Brick know? She doubted it. Maybe he had some stories tucked away somewhere, but from what little she pried out of him, he hadn't exactly been out there writing sonnets for anyone. He wasn't a virgin when they'd reconnected, sure, but Jo knew better than most that you didn't need love for that.

Maybe he was just caught up in it. The sex, the comfort, the dumb magnetic pull that had been dragging them into each other's orbit since the damn show.

There was no way he loved her. Brick was probably still stuck on the idea of her, the version of Jo he built in his head when they'd first met, when everything had felt charged, when it was just mean nicknames and side-eyes and tension.

That had to be it. He wasn't in love with her, he was in love with the memory of something that never existed.

Jo threw herself into training, like that was going to burn the confusion out of her. For a few blessed moments, there was always nothing but the burn. No stupid words echoing in her ears. But it never lasted. The second she stopped moving, it all came rushing back.

What now?

Any normal person would've figured it out by now. Made a neat little list, weighed the pros and cons, picked a side and stuck to it. But Jo wasn't normal, she never had been.

She liked the way things were, liked the simplicity of it. Sex, time spent, easy comfort without the messy bullshit that came with definitions. No labels, no promises, no expectations to live up to.

Sure, she'd met his family and all, but it didn't have to mean anything. It wasn't supposed to mean anything.

And now he'd gone and blown it all to hell. Dropped that tiny bomb right before leaving like it didn't feel like someone had reached inside her ribcage and given her heart a good squeeze.

She could've ignored it, should've pretended she never heard it and kept moving. That was what she did best, usually.

But she didn't. The words clung to her, sticky and annoying and impossible to peel away, and she hated him for it. Or maybe she just hated that somewhere, deep down in the parts of herself she usually ignored, something wasn't telling her to run. 

Still, life kept moving whether she wanted it to or not. The alarm punched her awake at 5:30 a.m., no mercy. She ran, she showered under water so hot it turned her skin pink, ate whatever she could shovel down without thinking, worked, trained, slept. Did it again and again.

If she moved fast enough, nothing could catch her. Especially not her own thoughts, but they always found a way. Creeping in during the ride back from work, especially when the bus was too quiet and her brain started pulling tricks.

And some part of her, buried deep enough that it only surfaced when she was half-dead from exhaustion, wondered if it would really be so bad to try. 

But the thought made her stomach turn, because she knew better. Jo wasn't built for that kind of life, never had been. She didn't dream about slow mornings with coffee and kisses. She didn't fantasize about wedding rings or about brats calling her mama.

There was nothing inside her that ached for it the way it seemed to ache in some other women. She barely managed to keep herself stitched together most days, there was no space for anyone else inside this wreckage.

Even if she wanted it, and she wasn't sure she did, it didn't matter. She wasn't lovable. Not the way she was; sharp where she should've been soft, cold where she should've been warm. People like Jo didn't get loved. Not by parents, not by friends, not by anyone who had stuck around long enough to know what they were dealing with.

Brick didn't get that yet. He still thought he did, but he didn't.

And maybe she could've let him have it, maybe she could've lied to both of them and played house for a while. Sometimes, when the day dragged long and the silence got too thick, she almost wanted to. Almost.

She'd picture it. She'd imagine Brick coming home, herself standing in a kitchen that didn't feel like a stranger's, pulling food from the fridge for him to cook, bitching about work, sitting too close on the couch.

But it never lasted. The anger always rose up first, drowning everything else out, reminding her exactly why it would never work. Because she'd screw it up. She always did.

Push too hard, say too little or too much, fuck it all sideways because she didn't know how to be anything other than herself.

And deep down, she knew Brick deserved better than what she could give, knew he was setting himself up to drown trying to hold on to someone who didn't know how to be held.

She didn't even know if he realized it yet. Probably not. The worst part was, she could almost see it, the day he figured it out. Jo shuddered just thinking about it. She would rather he hate her than stand there and watch him get tired of her, tired of waiting for her to be something she could never be.

Hope was a goddamn trap, Jo had spent her whole life learning that. She wasn't going to start falling for it now. Not when she knew exactly how this story ended.