#joshifersource

Berkeley, California, December 1969

 “Oh my GAWWWWWWWWWD!!!!!” Brenda squealed as Jen emerged from the airport and streaked toward her college roommate. “It’s been so long. You look so good!”

 “You look so good, too!” Jen cried as she enveloped the other girl. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so much, honey.”

 “You don’t miss me. I’m nobody. Unlike my former roommate who’s the toast of the networks. I’m so proud of you, Jennifer!”

 “Well, my professional life is great anyway,” Jen offered wryly and swallowed against the anger and pain that always lingered just below the surface since Josh’s disappearance over a year ago. “I’m happy about that.”

 “You really haven’t heard from him at all? No phone call? Not even another letter explaining anything?”

 Jen chuckled as she imagined Josh sitting down to write to her. The last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t been very interested in the written word. She couldn’t imagine that had changed much in the past twelve months, no matter how badly she wanted to hold onto the image of her former whatever-he’d-been as the guy she’d met in college and fallen in love with despite her best intentions. And now look where that had gotten her.

 “Nothing. Besides, I don’t live in Chicago anymore, remember? New York City’s a better fit, and my coverage of Stonewall made my career. He knows how to find me if he wants to hear from me again.”

 “But Jen—”

 “I looked for him, you know,” she admitted. “When I was in the Village and the protestors were marching in the streets. I saw Andre, Josh’s college roommate. He’s been part of the gay underground for years, and I thought maybe he might be there. Still an activist. Still fighting for change. To make the world better, but he wasn’t. None of his friends have heard from him since Nixon was elected, and I’m damn sure not going to call his family. They don’t know me, and I’m not going to beg him to be part of my life anymore. I’ve sacrificed enough for him.”

 Jen’s pronouncement hung in the air, and Brenda had enough grace to pretend she believed her. The silence stretched between the two women until Brenda shook her head and suggested they make their way to the cab line and head to their hotel. After all, they had a limited amount of time to get reacquainted before the alumni event they were supposed to attend.

 Jen blinked away tears as they drove through town and by campus. Memories assailed her at every corner, and she suddenly felt very old for someone who’d only graduated from college a few years prior. She wanted to kick herself for running out on Josh the night they’d first slept together, and she regretted not working through their problems when they lived together in Chicago. It had just been so easy to run or to seduce him instead. Sex had always been good between the two of them, and she liked it. She’d felt empowered when he lost himself in her or when he’d turned to her body for comfort. The problem was that he’d stopped looking to her and started hiding, too. When they’d both ignored their problems, they’d lost each other.

 A year later hadn’t dulled the ache of his absence. She’d been grieving since the election, but Josh had been for far longer. If she was fortunate—no, lucky—enough to find him again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice or however many times it was now. It would have to be pure luck to run into him again after all the ways fate had brought them together in the past, and she’d never been one to find four-leaf clovers. Unfortunately, last November seemed to be the end of their love story, no matter how much she wanted it to be another way.

 “You know there’s a big Stones concert tomorrow not far from here. Some of my friends are going.” Jen jumped when Brenda’s words broke through her reverie.

 “Really? I love them.”

 “I know,” her old roommate said with a grin. “Want to go?”

 “Absolutely! Wait, is this at Altamont? Woodstock West?”

 “I knew you’d know what I was talking about. Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re in the news business and have your ear to the ground more than us mere mortals.”

 “Please,” Jen scoffed, but the wheels in her brain started turning. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick phone call.”

 With that she made a beeline for the payphones on the far side of the hotel lobby. If she could pull a few strings, she could tie this to her job and make her friend really happy. What use was working herself to death and making her way up the ladder, slapping away the roving hands, working ten times harder than her male colleagues only to get a third as far—what use was any of that if she couldn’t sometimes cash in her success for press passes at a major counterculture event? None, that’s what, so she was damn well going to call her affiliate and let them know where she was.

 After she completed her call, she made her way back to Brenda and they retired to their room to get ready for the alumni event. Jen made it through with as much grace and class as she could while attempting to stymie the rush of emotions that hit her every time she turned her head. She drank a little too much and laughed louder than she would have if she’d been acting completely like herself, but she survived. More than anything, she held onto the promise of seeing her favorite band in concert the next day. If she managed to score the press passes, even better.

 “We need to make a stop on the way to the speedway. Can you be ready to go in 30?” Jen asked when they woke the next morning.

 “What’s going on?”

 “I need to stop by the local NBC affiliate to pick up some papers. My boss is being a real stickler about my time off while I’m out here. Something about an assignment. I want to make sure we have plenty of time to get to Altamont before the big names go onstage.”

 “Why?”

 “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but… Because I got us press passes. We’ll be able to get anywhere with them—including backstage.”

 Brenda squealed and hugged her friend, which made Jen smile. It felt good that her hard work could help make someone else feel so good.

 “Altamont, here we come!”

 ****

 “This is a gas!” Brenda yelled into Jen’s ear. “These passes are the best.”

 Smiling, Jennifer nodded and then pointed to the crowd indicating she was headed into the fray for a little bit. Brenda indicated her approval, and Jen headed off by herself for a few minutes. There were so many people at the racetrack. The music was loud, and she needed a break. Besides, she wanted to check out the crowd in case she could use the information she gathered for a news story later. After all, she was a journalist, a damn good one, at that, and her career came first. Now that her love life was dead, something had to.

 Experiencing Altamont made her regret not taking her boss up on his suggestion she cover Woodstock. She’d considered it for a second, but she’d been exhausted from coverage of the Stonewall riots and then traveled home for a family function. At the time, she hadn’t wanted to take off on another assignment when there was plenty of news to cover in the city itself. If she had, though, she’d be able to compare the two music festivals.

 The crowd at Altamont seemed perfectly content, albeit jittery. The lower the sun dropped in the sky, the more unrest she felt. She stepped around a shirtless, bearded man on the edge of the mosh pit in front of the stage and froze. There, not even ten feet from her, was Josh Hutcherson, alive and in the flesh. The man who’d haunted her dreams and had made her weep far too often over the past year was there, cheering and whooping as the Rolling Stones shifted into another song.

 People surged around her. Frozen in place, she couldn’t drop her gaze from his face. Josh’s face. She’d imagined reuniting with him a million times, but now that the opportunity existed, she had no idea what to do or how to act or what to say. Stunned and breathless, she tried to smile, but she was positive her face held more of a grimace than anything else. And then he turned slightly, and she could tell the exact moment when he saw her. His handsome face went slack in shock, and he took a tentative, hobbled step toward her.

 It took a minute for her to realize something had shifted. Someone pushed while another shoved back, and the concertgoers pressed closer together. Squeezed between two large men, she fought for space and scrambled frantically to keep Josh in her sights.

 All hell erupted around her as men in black leather infiltrated the crowd. She saw a person fall and then another. Panicked fans stepped over the bodies on the ground, and she had to fight to stay upright at people swarmed around her. She struggled against the tightening noose, but she was losing ground.

 “Jennifer!”

 Suddenly, he was in front of her, pulling and tugging her free from the throng. He grabbed her hand and bulled his way toward the perimeter where it seemed there wasn’t quite so much danger.

 “What are you doing here?” he shouted over the noise. “I thought you were in New York?”

 She gaped at him. “How did you know that? Why are you here? Where have you been? And why the fuck did you leave me in Chicago, you shitless bastard?”

 Josh opened and closed his mouth a few times before his face broke into a wide grin. “God, I missed you,” he laughed and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could shake him off, he leaned forward and kissed her.

 Stunned, she stiffened under the onslaught, but she gradually melted into him. She’d forgotten how good he was at this, how his lips and tongue and teeth combined to weaken her knees and shatter her resolve. Then, she was kissing him back, passionate and frantic as he held her to him. She was seconds from tearing his shirt over his head when someone slammed into them. Hard.

 He broke away and glanced around them to assess the situation. “We need to get out of here,” he shouted and grabbed her hand to pull her along.

 “Wait! Brenda’s here. She’s backstage. I can’t leave her.”

 “Jen! I want you safe.”

 She shook her head and twisted to look at the stage. Everything was in chaos, but she glimpsed her roommate briefly. She waved and ducked away under the arm of one of the workers who’d been flocking around them when they’d first arrived. If the wide grin on her face was any indication, Brenda would be absolutely fine.

 “Let’s go!” she yelled but allowed him to pull her behind him through the rioting crowd and into a clear area near the parking lot.

 “Are you okay?” he asked, his hands running over her shoulders and arms and then back up to her face. “Are you hurt?”

 “I’m fine. I’m okay. Josh…”

 His lips were on hers again, warm and comforting and more than a little urgent. She wanted to lose herself in him, find comfort in a way she hadn’t been able to for so long. More than anything, she craved his skin against hers. More than she wanted to know why he’d gone or where he’d been or what his future plans were. She just needed him in a way she couldn’t explain. She only knew that she felt like she’d come home when she was with him. After all this time, he was still the person that made her feel more herself than anyone else.

 It felt like seconds and decades at the same time, but finally, their frantic make out session ended and they could look at each other more fully. She had a million questions, but the most important was the one she managed to blurt as he studied her with his hazel gaze.

 “Do you love me?”

 He raised his hand to her left cheek and traced her cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes flickered over her, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Of course, I love you,” he laughed. “I always have. I’ve been an idiot—worse, I’ve been a complete ass—but I’ve been in love with you for a decade.”

 “I live in New York. I’m not moving.”

 “I’ve already got my plane ticket back there. I was just staying with Connor through the holidays.”

 “I don’t trust you.”

 “I don’t blame you. I haven’t been very trustworthy, and I’m sorry.”

 She glared at him, but she couldn’t find her anger. His presence was a balm she hadn’t even known she’d needed. When he’d left, she’d thought it was the end of their love, but maybe tonight was really the beginning. If the last decade had taught her nothing else, everything was a gamble. Maybe she had another big one left in her.

 “Hey, Hutch.”

 “Yeah?” It felt like the world around them was holding its breath.

 “Take me home.”

 When he reached for her hand, she took it.

 ****

 The drive to his brother’s apartment seemed to take forever and not nearly long enough. She wasn’t nervous, exactly, but it had been over a year since he’d left. How would it feel to be with him again after all this time and so much pain between them?

 “Connor’s out with friends tonight. Spending the night with his boyfriend,” Josh announced as they pulled into a parking spot.

 “Okay,” she replied and sucked in a breath to hold. At least they wouldn’t have an audience for their reunion.

 “We don’t have to do anything,” he said, and she raised her eyes to his. Vulnerability poured from him, and she suddenly wanted to soothe him. She had the ability to provide him comfort, and that’s what she wanted more than anything else in that moment.

 “I want to do everything,” she answered firmly.

 He led her up the stairs to his brother’s apartment and unlocked the door. When they were inside, he tossed his keys on the table and turned to her. She went to him, and he pulled her close. His arms wrapped around her back to nestle her against his chest. Slowly, he lifted her chin and pressed his lips against hers.

 It was a chaste kiss, but it lit a fire inside her. She deepened the kiss by tilting her head and opening her mouth. Her tongue begged for attention, and he slid his against hers. His muffled grunt was matched by her lusty moan, and the thin veil of control they clung to snapped.

 “Jennifer,” he sighed. Their hands grappled with their clothing as it fell piece by piece. Frantic, she hopped onto the kitchen table and tucked him between her legs. He rubbed her quickly, just a tiny bit of prep, and then he was inside her, thrusting with his head thrown back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as he rammed into her. The table creaked under them, and she gripped him inside her tighter and tighter as he plunged erratically into her depths.

 “Fuck!” he shouted to the ceiling when his body tensed. He sank into her, and she felt a wet heat pulsing inside her when he came.

 She cradled him to her, grateful for his warmth in the chilling apartment, until he came back to himself. His mouth sought hers in a lazy journey across her cheek until they were kissing and kissing and then kissing more and more and more. She couldn’t get enough of him. He surrounded her, made her feel like she’d found everything she needed, and grounded her to the present.

 “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

 She whimpered, both at his words, and him pulling out of her, but that turned to a forceful howl when he sank to his knees in front of her. She spread her legs further, and he leaned forward. Falling back on the table, she pressed her eyes closed and allowed herself to float. His tongue and fingers and lips and facial hair all worked to drive her over the edge, and she gripped the edge of the table as an orgasm rushed through her. Panting, she begged him to keep going.

 He took his time, nuzzling against her until she writhed under him. He prodded her legs into different positions, interspersed sucking on her clit with shoving his fingers inside her until she was wailing. She couldn’t control the sounds that poured from her any more than she could stop from climaxing multiple times as he took her apart.

 She lost track of time, of her name, of her roles and responsibilities. Nothing mattered but him on her, connected and intertwined in a way she always wanted them to be, that they’d never quite managed when they held back from each other. For the first time in ages, she felt he was completely open to her, and she responded in kind. Any inhibitions she still held fell away, and she ground against his face harder and harder.

 “Josh, I need more,” she whined, desperate for him to be inside her again.

 He stumbled to his feet and scooped her from the table. Half-carrying, half-supporting her, he walked them across the room to the ratty couch in the living room. Woozily, she glanced at the rumpled blankets and sheets where he’d obviously been sleeping and sank onto his lap when he sat.

 “You deserve so much better than a shitty couch in a rundown apartment. I’m sorry—”

 “Stop apologizing,” she slurred and kissed him. “I forgive you. I love you, too. Now, fuck me.”

 Josh buried his face in her neck and guided her thighs to the outside of his. She sank onto him and rocked her hips, meeting his stroke with hers. She rode him, then, bouncing and moaning his name, clutching his hair and raking her nails down his back as they raced to the finish. They reached it together, clinging to each other as they panted each other’s names. Her back bowed, and she dove over the edge, reaching for him, clinging to the man she’d met so many years ago, who’d helped her discover who she really was, what she believed in, and how she could fight for those principles. She didn’t want anyone else to take his place, and this time she’d battle for him as long as she needed to keep him by her side.

 When they finished, they lay together, hearts beating rapidly, and caressed every inch of bare skin they could reach. They made promises and plans, both grandiose and mundane, but most importantly, they made a pledge.

New York City, New York, June 1969

 “Where’s your friend’s place?” Connor asked as he and Josh exited the subway and onto Seventh Avenue. “I’m ready to put this bag down and get to the bar.”

 Josh grinned at his younger brother as they hoofed it south to Andre’s apartment. It had been much too long since Josh had experienced all the city had to offer, and he was looking forward to trying to forget his broken heart in booze and weed and meaningless sex. As if any of that actually dulled the pain he felt every time he thought about Jennifer. Which was every second of every single day.

 “Quit being so impatient. We’ve got nothing else to do besides party for days. Happy graduation, bro,” he said with a clap on Connor’s shoulder. “And we’re here.”

 Andre buzzed them up, and Josh tried to hide his happiness at being reunited with his friend. They hadn’t seen each other since the concert in New Haven before… Before he went back to Chicago and fell into domestic bliss with Jennifer and lost himself in the process. If he could figure out how to go back and do it over, he would, but the fact was that he wasn’t a good boyfriend. Monogamy wasn’t his thing, and nothing about the months he’d spent in the Midwest made him think he could balance his personal life with activism. He wasn’t good at splitting his attention between two things, especially when one was a leggy blonde whose pussy made him want to worship between her legs for days. Besides that, he was in love with her, and it scared the shit out of him.

 “Good to see you, man,” Andre huffed through their hug. “I need a catch up on everything since we last talked. Been out in Cali with your bro, huh?”

 “Yeah, Andre you remember Connor. Connor, Andre. Out at Stanford with him. Just trying to find my way back.”

 “Back to what?”

 “Let’s smoke a bowl first. Then I’ll tell you. It’s too much right now.”

 An hour later, the three were sprawled across the living room as smoke hung heavy in the air. Josh felt his bones dissolve and his head float into a happy space, one where he wasn’t a fuck up or a failure. Instead, he was that idealistic kid from Kentucky who genuinely believed he could change the world, shape it into something that was just for everyone, including Andre and his own  brother, who’d come out since Josh joined him in Stanford. He hadn’t wasted 1968 in bed with Jenn. He hadn’t failed to help change the minds of those who looked down on others as inferior.

 “I went to Chicago. You know that,” he spoke into the haze swirling above his head. “I found her. She was beautiful. Is beautiful, and she’s so talented. So much more herself than she was at Berkeley. I’m so proud of her. She’s a reporter on the local NBC station. Reported on the DNC protests and made a name for herself, but me… Things didn’t go so well for me. Chicago chewed me up and spit me out and ruined me. She ruined me. Except she didn’t. She saved me. I lost myself, and I was dragging her down with me. I couldn’t do that to her. I had to leave, to give her space to really shine, and to figure out how the fuck to find myself again because I’m so lost. I don’t know how to fight anymore. How to stand up for what’s right when I know I’m not doing that for her. I don’t deserve her, man. I don’t, and I couldn’t drag her down anymore. So, I left. I wrote a note, and I ran. Haven’t talked to her since.”

 His voice trailed into silence, but the music continued to pulse. Andre nodded, clearly working through the information, and Connor closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side. Nothing Josh had said made him feel any better. All he’d done was be honest about his actions. He wasn’t looking for approval, and he wasn’t looking for advice. The best thing he could do was leave her alone to succeed and thrive on her own.

 He told himself that later that night when he picked up a woman in the bar and fucked her in the bathroom. He repeated that mantra when his brother decided to return to California and leave him in New York to find a job. He insisted he was being honest with himself when he switched on the local news and realized Jen had transferred to New York. And then he reiterated it when he agreed to join Andre for drinks at the Stonewall Inn.

 ****

 Josh swept his dark hair out of his eyes and pulled it back into a ponytail. He chuckled at the thought of what his dad would say if he saw his elder son’s hairstyle. Chris had always been loving and supportive outside of his frustration over his injury, but that didn’t mean he thought men should wear long hair. It was shaggier than Josh was used to. At some point, he needed a haircut, but he couldn’t seem to justify paying for something so mundane when there were a million other things that were more important. He was itching for a cause to support in a meaningful way, and it felt like something was coming.

 The air itself was heavy. New York City in the summer was often full of heat and humidity and that day was no different. The temperatures hung in the mid-90s well into the later afternoon as he made his way south through Greenwich Village toward the gay bar Andre frequented.

 It felt good to be in the city. Even though he’d never lived there, it felt right somehow to be in the cradle of counterculture, even if he’d gotten a little too comfortable with the status quo during his months in Chicago.

 Seven months since he’d seen her in person. He still couldn’t think about what she’d felt when she found his note, how she’d crumbled when she realized he wasn’t coming back. He knew she’d been waiting for it. Despite his irresponsible actions and inability to commit, he understood Jen better than he did himself. She’d known he was going to run, had been preparing for it the entire time they’d spent together, and he’d proven her right.

 Being without her was terrible for him, but it was everything she deserved. She was too good for him, always had been. Even when she was spoiled and selfish, she’d had class and an innate kindness that he’d never be able to emulate. Josh strolled the last short distance with a wry grin gracing his face. He allowed himself the length of the block to beat himself up, and then he plastered on a smile and waltzed through the door of the Stonewall Inn.

 The bar was dark with bulky furniture and a long row of stools framing the shiny wooden counter. Bartenders pulled beer and mixed drinks quickly and served them with flirtatious smirks that elicited copious tips. Andre called his name from the back, and Josh twisted his way through laughing groups of men who were finally able to relax in a world that wasn’t ready to accept them.

 “My man,” he said as he tugged Andre into a hug and was then introduced to the rest of the group. He tried to remember their names, but the words were lost in the din of the club. He ordered a beer and sat back to listen as his friend interacted with the other men.

 “Things are worse,” Andre insisted. “There hasn’t been a raid in a while, but it’s only a matter of time before the pigs show up again.”

 “It’s shit,” another man agreed and tucked his blonde hair behind his ears. “Sometimes I wonder if we ought to do something about it. Fight back next time or take it to the streets.”

 Andre seemed more relaxed than Josh had ever seen him as the group discussed the political climate of the nation. Advances in equal rights for a number of groups hinted that change could be in the near future for gays and lesbians, too, but it was understandable that the bar’s patrons didn’t trust the nation’s power structures. And why would they? There’d been so little progress for the gay community since McCarthyism and the oppression of the decade before.

 Josh lost track of time as he drank and listened. He contributed when he felt like he had something to say, but he mostly enjoyed hearing about the movement from insiders instead of trying to insert himself. Despite his close friendship with Andre and his own brother’s coming out a few months prior, he didn’t have a lot of contact with men who were attracted to other men. He’d always loved the female form, although he’d considered sexual attraction to the same sex. Somehow, it had never happened, and he didn’t feel like forcing something would do any good. He’d rather be supportive of those who had those feelings that try to be someone he wasn’t.

 A tussle by the door caught his attention. Andre and the others at the table tensed, and Josh felt the hair on his arms rise. Something was happening, although he wasn’t sure what.

 “It’s a raid,” Andre muttered as he rose and pushed Josh behind him.

 “What do you mean?”

 “I mean, it’s a raid. The pigs are here.”

 Josh watched in disbelief as police swarmed into the bar and yelled at the patrons. Drinks spilled, and men scrambled as police batons emerged and landed on those sitting at the bar. Time seemed to slow down, and he watched in disbelief as a brawl broke out in front of him. He’d drunk too much; that much was clear, but he felt like he was in a dream. Drifting along beside Andre, he joined the protest, raising his voice next to his friend and others he didn’t know. He yelled and marched and raised his fist as the streets became a battleground. He watched as those around him sparked with pride and celebrated their liberation.

 He hadn’t felt the rush of working for something that mattered for so long, and it felt amazing. This wasn’t his personal fight, but it also was. What could be more personal than standing against police brutality and for the rights of everyone?

 As the sun rose over the horizon, Andre and he stumbled home and slept for a few hours before rejoining the fray. For the next three days, he felt himself coming alive. When the police beat him, he curled in on himself and ignored the pain, and when it was all over, he lay in Andre’s apartment and realized he had to stop running. He’d left Chicago because he wasn’t worthy of Jen’s love, and he’d done nothing in the seven months since to change that. He needed a purpose, and he had to stop waiting for one to come to him. Instead, he had to go find it.

 ****

 But then suddenly she was there on his television—Andre’s television—and he forgot everything except how much he missed her. He gaped at the screen as she talked and tried to quell the ache in his gut.

 “…today’s remnants of the riots from Greenwich Village. A reminder, thousands of young men and women homosexuals from all over the Northeast marched from the Village to the Sheep Meadow in Central Park three days ago, proclaiming ‘the new strength of pride of the gay people.’ This movement, which some are calling gay pride, rejects the oppression of gay men and women and demands equal treatment and respect in society and under the law.

 Thousands have taken to the streets, marching and protesting against police brutality and raids of gay bars and clubs. I’ve spoken to a number of protestors, and each reminds me that this movement has been long in the making. Stay tuned for further coverage. In the Village, I’m Jennifer Lawrence for WNBC, Channel 4.”

 “That a girl,” he murmured as the screen faded from her to the anchor in the studio.

 She looked amazing. A little more mature and stylish than she’d been in Chicago but also happy and confident. The slightly nervous energy she’d always portrayed on the screen in the Midwest seemed to have evaporated on the East Coast, and it was a good look on her.

 “Was that her?” Andre asked lazily, his grin visible from the dim corner. “That’s your chick?”

 “Yeah, that’s her,” he breathed.

 Andre took a hit and passed a bud to him, and Josh inhaled twice sharply. It took a few minutes, but the marijuana did exactly what he wanted, which was to loosen him up and relax. He couldn’t believe they were in the same city again, and he wondered briefly if they were drawn to each other unintentionally or if there were cosmic forces at work to reunite them. How could he explain to anyone that two people who lived in Kentucky ended up halfway across the country together at college in California, reunited and lived together in the Midwest, and then landed in the same city on the East Coast?

 Well, now he needed to get his shit together. The only problem was he had no idea how other than following his calling. He was an activist. That was part of him down to the marrow in his bones, and she was still a reporter. How was he ever going to reconcile that restless, never satisfied portion of him when Jenn was a part of the system? How could he fight “the man” when the woman he loved was part of it?

 “I can see the wheels turning, Hutch. What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

 Josh sighed and swiveled his head to face his friend. “I’ve never been good enough for her. I don’t know what to do except leave her alone, but I can’t stand being without her.”

 “You know, you don’t have to give up everything for a cause, especially when it’s not your own.”

 “They’re all my causes,” Josh protested. “Just because I’m not oppressed doesn’t mean I shouldn’t work for change.”

 “Just because oppression exists doesn’t mean you should martyr yourself.”

 Josh started to retort but snapped his jaw shut. The words hit hard and low in his stomach. His friend was right. Denying himself happiness wasn’t helping anyone else, and it certainly hadn’t made his or Jennifer’s lives any better. He’d broken both their hearts for far too long, and he had to figure out how to make it right.

 “You’re right, man. I know you are, but I’m just not there yet,” Josh sighed. “I think, though, that I might need to move here once I am.”

 “Always a spot here for you, Hutch.” After a few minutes of silence, Andre added, “There’s talk of an event here in a few months. Think you could stick around and facilitate planning? Might help you get your mind right, and then you can head back to California to see your brother and get the rest of your stuff.”

 “Yeah, I can do that, I guess. What is it?”

 “A concert. Somewhere upstate.”

 “A concert?”

 “Not just a concert. It’s a movement. Days of music, and all of us communing with nature.”

 Josh rolled it around in his mind for a few minutes. It sounded like something to occupy his time while he got himself together. The next day he met with the planners of an event they affectionately referred to as Woodstock.

 ****

 “Josh, I can’t tell you how much of a help you’ve been during this,” his boss said as they moved a stack of flyers into a crate. “I wasn’t sold when Andre asked me to take you on, but your creative ideas have been stellar.”

 “Just trying to help out however I can,” he responded. “Glad to have something to do that might help the cause.”

 “Every little thing helps. Now, you’re off for the week. Go enjoy some good music upstate. I’ll see you behind the scenes.”

 Josh gave a two-fingered salute and made his way back to Andre’s apartment. They were hitching a ride with some other friends and making their way north to the festival, and he still had to pack before they could leave. He was almost there when he decided to pop into the corner bodega and grab some food. Who knew what kind of opportunities there would be to eat with however many people showed up in Bethel? They’d had to change locations not long ago and they’d tried to plan for all eventualities, but that didn’t mean Josh couldn’t bring some extra sustenance.

 “Always be prepared,” he said to himself with a laugh and turned the corner. He stopped dead in his tracks. Not a hundred feet away was a woman with long blonde wavy hair. “Jennifer?”

 He chased after her, but he quickly realized it wasn’t her. The same thing happened at the festival several times. Woodstock was a gas, a writhing throng of bodies with music that transcended him and made him fly with happiness. For the first time in a while, he felt like he knew himself. He’d helped plan it. He’d thought ahead to bring food when so many others wasted time searching for dinner. He was surrounded by friends and people of like mind. The lack of restrooms and facilities to bathe didn’t bother him. That could all wait until he returned to the city, which came much too soon.

 Back at Andre’s, he smoked weed while he took a long, soothing bath. He jacked off lazily and let his mind drift to a slew of different times he’d been with Jen. He fantasized and planned and finally came to the realization that he needed to head back to California to tie up loose ends and spend time with his brother. Connor would help him focus. Being back where he and Jennifer had first met and fallen in love seemed like a good idea.

Chicago, Illinois, August 1968

 “Jen, are you working again today?” Amy shouted through the closed bedroom door. When there was no answer, she rapped loudly on the wood.

 Half asleep, Jennifer stretched and rubbed sleep from her eyes.  She rolled over and slipped her arm over Josh’s naked torso and yelled in a sleep-choked voice, “Yeah, I have to be there at noon.  Sleeping in.”

 “I’ll be home late tonight. Be careful.”

 “Thanks, Amy,” she replied and nestled her head into Josh’s shoulder.

 “Yeah, be careful,” he grunted and shifted onto his side.  “Someone might try to take advantage of you or something.”

 “Mmm…  Good morning,” she breathed as he traced her collar bone with the tip of his tongue.

 “Good morning to you. Signs point to it being very, very good.”

 Jen spread her legs and sighed as he settled between them.  His mouth greeted her as if they’d been separated for months, even though they’d spent the majority of the night before high and trying new positions from the Kama Sutra he’d scored from one of his friends at work.

 “I’m not going to be able to walk today if you don’t stop that,” she teased in between sharp intakes of breath.  She twisted her fingers in his hair as she approached her climax and tugged hard.

 “Don’t gripe, doll,” he said as he tore his mouth from her.  “You know you love this.”

 Wrapping her arms around him, she tugged him against her and welcomed him inside.  His long strokes drove her over the edge quickly, and he plunged into her as she gripped and rippled around him.

 When they were finished, he tugged on a pair of bellbottoms with frayed denim hems and walked to the bathroom.  He returned a few minutes later, dropped a kiss on her forehead, and left with only a brief farewell tossed over his shoulder as he walked down the hall. Stunned, she sat up and stared after him, but he didn’t return.

 “Something’s still off,” she muttered before shrugging and dressing for work.

 She’d only been at her new job for a few weeks.  Once she’d decided to take Jack’s advice, things had moved quickly.  She interviewed and got the job within a few days, allowing her to leave her job at the Tribune and take a reporter position at the local NBC affiliate.  It had taken a bit to readjust to reporting news on camera instead of typing it, but she had no regrets.  Her boss at the TV station was a saint compared to Mr. Murrow, and she enjoyed the new relationships she’d developed with her co-workers, most of whom were incredibly good-looking and closer to her age.  The field was an entirely different world than the newsroom, and Josh seemed amused by her stories.

 “Not sure what’s wrong with him today,” she mused as she made her way to work to receive her assignment and camera operator for the day.

 “Jennifer,” her boss called from his office and motioned her inside.  “I want you on the DNC this week.  I know you usually work weekends, but Chicago doesn’t get the convention every year.  You’ve got today and tomorrow to prep, and then you’re on until Thursday.  I need you at the top of your game.  These things are notoriously dull, so you’ll need to create some interest through interviews.  Get people’s ideas.”

 “On the convention floor?”

 “No, you’re outside. I’ve got another team inside the convention itself,” he explained.  “I need you to report on the mood outside the event.”

 “Is anybody going to be hanging around outside?  If people can’t get in, why would they be there?”

 “I put in a call Daley’s office.  The good mayor seems to think there might be trouble.  Police are expecting some more radical groups to be in the streets.”

 “Radical groups,” she murmured.  She’d ask Josh what he’d heard when she got home.  He knew more than she did about who would be there.

 ****

 But Josh wasn’t at home when she got there. She stayed up late, studying and prepping for her assignment, but he didn’t come back.  His clothes still hung in her closet, so she knew he hadn’t bailed on her and would return eventually. Still, his absence grated on her, especially when he didn’t return the next day either.

 She woke early on Wednesday to featherlight kisses on her forehead. Josh settled onto her, pressing her into the mattress and winding his fingers in her hair.

 “I missed you,” he whispered and wiggled his crotch between her legs.

 Grouchy from lack of sleep and even more frustrated he’d been missing for the past two days without any sort of explanation, she snapped, “Where have you been, asshole?”

 She almost smacked him when he chuckled, but she forgave him quickly enough when he explained he’d been planning a demonstration for the day at the DNC. He kissed her softly, lovingly, and she relented. She closed her eyes, let him inside, and moaned when he moved inside her. His political pillow talk excited him more than anything else lately, and he eventually came with a long, guttural growl in her ear. He pulled out quickly and dropped his head between her legs. His mouth worked magic on her. When he kissed her afterwards, she tasted both of them in his mouth. She wasn’t sure why that turned her on so much, but it drove her to beg for another round before she left for her shift.

 ****

 Jen was met by a throng of protestors and twice as many police as she stationed herself outside the convention and attempted to interview as many people in the crowd as would talk to her. She wrangled a conversation with a woman named Katie, who proudly proclaimed herself a member of the Youth International Party.

 “Katie, can you tell us a little bit about why you’re protesting today?” Jen yelled into the microphone and turned it toward the other woman. She bumped into the other woman when someone jostled her, and she strained to hear the answer.

 Katie screamed at the top of her lungs, “Fuck the pigs! The Yippies are here to show how corrupt the police and government are. They support the military industrial complex, sending our boys to die in ’Nam while they wallow in filth in D.C. We’re here to nominate our own candidate, Pigasus the Immortal, because even a pig could run this country better than that asshole in the White House.”

 Jen’s eyes widened imperceptibly, but she schooled her features as best she could. No matter what her interviewees said, she needed to remain neutral and report the news. No matter how radical or extreme, no matter if she agreed with the sentiment or not, her job was to present the facts and share what was unfolding in Grant Park to the rest of the nation.

 As the crowd around her shouted, “Pigs are whores,” she marveled at the irony of nominating a pig for president while simultaneously slandering the police as whores. Tension crackled in the air, and she wondered briefly if Josh was actually somewhere in the crowd like he was supposed to be. Admittedly, while her political bent was less radical than his, she still agreed with a lot of his ideas. This, though, seemed more like it could burst into a riot immediately and not stay just a protest.

 Hours passed, and she kept interviewing, kept side-stepping potential problems, and kept doing her job. As darkness fell, the crowd’s energy ticked higher. Something was going to happen. She could feel it. Thousands of police and national guard and military surrounded the protestors, and all it would take was one spark for the area to erupt.

 Three minutes later it did. Someone threw a rock, the police retaliated, and a full-scale riot broke out in front of her. A Molotov cocktail whizzed over her head, and she motioned to her cameraman to start rolling. She had no idea if the station would pick up her report, but she wasn’t letting this opportunity go. This was a career-maker.

 “As you can see, violence has broken out at the protests outside the Democratic National Convention here in Chicago. It’s 11:00 pm, and city ordinance says that all public parks must be closed at this hour. That hasn’t fazed the protestors, mainly members of the Youth International Party and others of the New Left, who demand an end to American involvement in Vietnam and a rehauling of the federal government.

 “Chicago mayor, Richard Daley, has consistently declared that he will see law and order maintained, and he’s backed up that assertion with over 12,000 police, 5,000 national guard members, and 12,000 regular army troops, according to reports from the mayor’s office itself.

 “Earlier today, Yippies, members of the Youth International Party, nominated a pig for president as a statement about the state of the government. Tonight, the establishment is fighting back. Expect more—”

 Something struck her in the side of the head, and she saw stars. She focused enough to see her cameraman swivel the camera to capture the events, so she could gather herself.

 “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, careful to keep her voice low in case her microphone was broadcasting. She pressed her fingers to her forehead and grunted at the pain. When she pulled her hand back, she was stunned to find it covered in blood.

 The crowd jostled her, and she realized she needed to get out of harm’s way. Her head hurt, and she swayed when she tried to take a step. Dizzy and confused, she staggered to her left. A few seconds later, she collapsed.

 ****

 “Wake up, Jennifer.”

 The voice was insistent and familiar, and she tried to listen. It hurt too much. Too tired to care, she slid back into darkness.

 “Jennifer Shrader Lawrence. Wake up!”

 “No. Ow. Sleep. Sleep now.”

 “Come on, doll. Wake up. Right now.”

 With a growl, she nudged into the hand cupping her jaw and opened her eyes. The light from a single lamp made her head explode, and she whimpered in pain. It took several seconds for her to focus. When she did, she sighed, “Josh.”

 “You know, you shouldn’t get a bottle thrown at your head. You’re too pretty to carry off a scar on your forehead.” His eyes were filled with concern and a hint of anger, but his lips curved into a gentle smile that made her want to kiss him.

 “Good thing I have bangs,” she joked quietly in an attempt to keep her head from swirling. “How’d we get back here? What time is it?”

 “A buddy of mine gave us a ride. I saw you get hit, and I managed to pick you up before you got trampled. Also, don’t black out in the middle of a riot. That’s just common knowledge.”

 She frowned. “I was working.”

 “You were,” he agreed before adding forcefully. “Now, you’re not. You take a bottle to the head and bleed all over yourself, you’re in no shape to be on TV. And it’s almost 4:00 am. You’ve been out for a while.”

 “I took you away from the protest.”

 Josh didn’t answer. Instead, he put a bag of ice on her forehead where the bottle had hit her right over her right temple. Indicating she should take it from him, he grabbed a bottle of aspirin off the bedside table, popped three into his hand, and put them on her tongue when she opened her mouth.

 “You’re going to be laid up for a few days. You should call your boss when it’s a reasonable hour. He can call in a replacement.”

 “Josh, I need to work.”

 “What you need to do,” he snapped, “is get well. I’m going to sleep. I have to be back out there tomorrow.”

 “You’re going back?” she yelped. “Why? So you can get hurt? There are thousands of police out there and the army and Daley doesn’t give a shit about any of you.”

 “Which is exactly why we’re protesting, Jennifer.”

 “Doesn’t make it smart.”

 “I never said I was smart.”

 Before she could say another word, he flipped off the light and headed to the living room.

 “Where are you going?” she demanded, her anger barely contained.

 “I’ll be on the couch tonight. Go to sleep.”

 “Jackass,” she muttered, but she wasn’t in any shape to drag him back to bed. Instead, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. When she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

 ****

“There you are. I thought you weren’t going to make it home before I left.”

 Josh stood in the hallway, his expression unreadable, and Jen zipped her suitcase closed. She rose and crossed to him, but he didn’t reach out for her or return her tentative smile. She really shouldn’t be leaving town when their relationship was on the rocks, but her boss insisted they needed her presence in Atlantic City, that her coverage of the riots not quite two weeks prior had shot her to superstardom—at least as much as a local news correspondent could be. She was the trusted face of news in Chicago and covering the Miss USA pageant would give her a softer side that would solidify her image of being able to report everything in the news cycle. She thought it was bullshit, but she wasn’t really in the position to argue.

 “This isn’t exactly the farewell I was hoping for when I asked you to make sure to say goodbye to me.”

 “You shouldn’t be going,” Josh grumbled, and anger flooded through her.

 “I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?” she snapped. “Not if I want to keep my job. Besides, it’s a beauty pageant. It’s not like I’m going to get hurt again. I’m not covering a riot.”

 “Jennifer, there are consciousness raising groups all over the country headed to Atlantic City. They’re planning all sorts of protests against this—this—this travesty that likens females to cattle. I can’t believe you’re willing to cover something that makes other women look like pieces of meat.”

 He threw up his hands, and she pursed her lips. “It’s my job.”

 “Get a new one, then. You’re supporting the establishment. I thought you were against all the shit—”

 “I’m a journalist, Josh. A journalist, not an activist. That’s your job.”

 He glared at her before whispering, “Maybe you’re not who I thought you were.”

 “The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility,” she said, her voice frigid. “I’m leaving. I have a flight to catch.”

 He didn’t stop her when she grabbed her suitcase and stalked past him. She was down the stairs and into the cab before tears spilled over and wet her cheeks.

 ****

 Atlantic City proved to be a lot more than Jennifer expected, and it made her furious that Josh was right. Of course, she was always mad when Josh was right and she’d argued against him. He liked to gloat, and she had no desire to go back to Chicago and hear him snicker.

 Worse than that, she had an aching fear in her gut that she’d fly home, and he’d be gone. She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t been able to shake that he was planning to leave for months. It seemed only a matter of time. How could she tame Josh Hutcherson, activist and rebel and total playboy?

 Why hadn’t they managed to have a discussion about their relationship in the year they’d been living together? They’d never promised to be exclusive, never had the conversation, and Jen had a sinking feeling that he was just biding time until he went back to his former life—floating from place to place and woman to woman, following the fight for the causes he supported and relationships be damned. Andre and Jackson were his only close friends, and he hadn’t seen either of them in months either.

 Something wasn’t right, and she was terrified of eventually discovering what it was.

 She shook herself as her mind drifted to Josh for the hundredth time in fifteen minutes. The action behind her on the pier ramped up as the pre-pageant sessions dragged on. She’d interviewed dozens of protestors, asking them their views on the women’s movement and women’s liberation. Several members of the New York Radical Women were there leading the protests, and Jen thought she’d go insane if she heard the words “consciousness raising” again.

 Jen directed her attention to what she thought would provide the clearest portrayal of what the protestors were attempting to accomplish. She interviewed women carrying signs of females marked up as cuts of meat; she directed her crew to record the Freedom Trash Can as women threw in high heels and tweezers and bras and pantyhose; she heard the term bra burner and twirled to spot a fire until the woman she was interviewing explained that they’d decided not to set the trash can on fire because they feared the wooden boardwalk would go up in flames. Finally, she took copious notes during the pageant itself until protestors in the balcony unfurled a large banner and simultaneously set off a smoke bomb that drove everyone from the auditorium.

 In short, she realized later when she was back in her hotel room and reviewing her notes, she’d done everything she could possibly do to both keep her job and work against the establishment Josh seemed to want to insist she supported. If she was honest, her work that day was a giant middle finger to both her boss and her whatever-the-hell he was to her because Josh sure hadn’t promised her anything.

 She was fuming by the time she landed in Chicago the following evening, ready to return to her apartment and find him and his belongings missing. If she could stay mad until she found out for sure that he was gone, maybe she’d be able to survive the loss.

 When she walked in the door, she had a string of curse words waiting on the tip of her tongue to fall, to distract her from the pain she knew was coming.

 “Hey, doll.  I missed you.”

 Tears pricked her eyes, and she dropped her suitcase. She took three giant steps and threw herself into his arms. He tried to ask her what was wrong a million times, but she shut him up with her mouth every time.

Chicago, Illinois, June 1968

 Josh woke to Jen’s mouth moving down his torso. Something had happened since their frantic coupling the day King was assassinated, and Jen had become much more aggressive with him in bed.

 “Good morning,” he mumbled sleepily, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she sucked him into her mouth and bit gently until he yelped at the sensation of her teeth scraping the skin of his morning wood. He cursed, but he couldn’t help but admit it felt amazing.  He gripped her hair in his fists and groaned encouragement.

 Jen sucked harder and jerked her hand up and down his shaft as her lips and tongue ran over his head and around his girth. Josh arched his back and pressed into the pillow as his hips bucked upward.

 “I’m gonna blow, Jen. Fuck, yes,” he moaned as thick ropes of fluid spurted over his abdomen. Jen watched, a satisfied smirk on her lips, as he stopped shaking from his release.

 “Good morning. I’m going to take a bath. You’ll have to wait to clean up until I’m done. It should be nice and dry by then.” She winked at him and slipped from her bedroom, her waist long blonde waves brushing just above the curve of her firm ass.

 He heard the water running in the bathtub and imagined Jen slipping into the warm wetness. He thought about her long legs covered in soap and her tits just breaking the surface of the water as she shampooed her hair. He was pondering how her fingers would fan over her flat abdomen when he was jarred from his reverie by the ring of the telephone.

 “Josh, can you grab that? It’s early, so it’s probably my mom.”

 “Sure, hon. I’ll just mosey into your kitchen with dried cum all over my stomach,” he teased and slipped a pair of boxers and a white undershirt on before hurrying to the other room and ripping the phone from the base.

 “Lawrence residence. Josh speaking,” he answered and was shocked to hear his mother on the other end of the line. She was sobbing into the phone, and her words slurred into a garbled mess. It took several minutes before he could calm her enough to understand what she was trying to tell him.

 “He’s dead, Josh! He’s gone,” his frantic mother wept into the receiver, and Josh’s heart clutched.

 “Who? Is Dad okay? Is it Connor? Mom, tell me!” he begged with his heart in his throat.

 “Bobby. Bobby’s dead.”

 Josh’s knees folded, and he sank to the floor. The phone hung loosely and worthless from the wall as the world whirled around him. He blinked a few times as his vision darkened until he could hardly see. He slumped sideways and closed his eyes as he concentrated on breathing in and out through his nose.

 “Josh?” Jen called, but he didn’t have the energy to answer. “Josh! Oh my god! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 “He’s gone,” Josh whispered, too in shock to say anything else.

 “What?” she asked as her eyes tore over him. “Who’s gone? Is it Jackson? Talk to me, Josh!”

 The room spun around him, and Jen’s face blurred into a murky smudge of color. A rushing sound filled his ears, and his vision darkened. He’d said and heard those words too many times in the past few years. He didn’t want to face anymore loss. It was too much. Too much for him to handle. He wasn’t that strong.

 “Josh!” Jennifer screamed as he closed his eyes and slipped into darkness.

 ****

 Jennifer howled and pulled Josh to her. His chest rose and fell gently, and his face settled into a relaxed, peaceful expression. She rocked him back and forth as she cried, but she was frozen to the floor. She couldn’t think of anything but keeping him in her arms, safe and protected from whatever he’d heard on the phone.

 It seemed like hours before he stirred, but it was likely only a few minutes. His hazel eyes blinked open, and she gasped at the pain she saw there.

 “Tell me what’s wrong,” she begged as she stroked his dark hair back from his forehead. He squeezed his eyes closed and swallowed hard. She could hear the phone beeping as it swung from the wall, but she didn’t care. He was more important than any call from her mother.

 “It was my mom,” he gasped and struggled to sit up. He choked and heaved for several moments before he blathered. “Bobby Kennedy was assassinated last night.”

 Laughter burst from her before she could stop it. What he’d said was too preposterous for her to fathom. That wasn’t possible. They’d stayed up late to watch the election returns on the news the night before, and Kennedy had narrowly won the California primary. Josh celebrated the news, convinced that the victory meant the former Attorney General would be the next Democratic candidate for President in November’s election, since Johnson had declared he wouldn’t run for re-election.

 “No, he wasn’t,” she guffawed, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “I would have gotten called in if… Shit. I’m on vacation. Why am I on vacation?”

 “I keep thinking things can’t get any worse,” he mumbled, “but then they do. I don’t think things are going to get better, Jen. I think worse is coming, and no one’s there to stem the tide anymore. Bobby’s gone. King’s gone. I— It’s just hopeless.”

 “It’s not hopeless,” she insisted. “Not when people like you are out there fighting.”

 “But I’m not out there fighting, am I, Jen?” he retorted. “I’m playing house with you in Chicago while Jackson’s slogging through the jungle and Andre’s in New York working.”

 “I’m not asking you not to fight.”

 “No, you just asked me not to leave.”

 She shook her head so hard the towel she’d wrapped around her hair came loose and wet curls tumbled onto her shoulders to soak the top of her thin summer robe. “That’s not fair! I asked you not to go, but I’m not holding you hostage. I can’t stop you now any more than I could two years ago when you graduated. That’s why I left that night at Berkeley. I knew I couldn’t win. I knew I wouldn’t be first. If you’d stayed, you’d resent me, and I think what you’re trying to accomplish is too important to want you to stop.”

 Scared and vulnerable, she pulled her robe closed over her chest. No matter what she said, she wanted her words to carry more meaning than her naked breasts.

 “Choosing my work doesn’t mean I didn’t choose you.”

 “I don’t believe you,” she whispered and rose. Trembling, she squared her shoulders and walked back to her bedroom. Closing the door, she sat on the bed and studied her hands. She knew she was in shock, but she didn’t seem to be able to snap out of it. News of the former president’s brother’s death hurt as much as learning her own grandfather had passed last year. What was different was the political implications of losing the candidate best suited to beating the Republicans and continuing to work for change for minorities and the poor.

 She knew all of those worries were at the root of Josh’s tears and anger. They were at hers too, but so were her own personal fears that she’d lose him again. She loved him, and she didn’t want to live without him.

 Unfortunately, she was positive she couldn’t win. His beliefs ranked higher than her—especially when he wouldn’t even admit they were dating, despite them living together. If she pressed him, she guessed he’d say they were roommates and celebrating free love. She didn’t want an open relationship, but she had no idea how to convince him to make it official between them.

 “Jennifer?”

 She looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. She wiped tears from her cheeks she didn’t know she’d shed, and he entered the room to sit next to her on the bed. He didn’t speak for several minutes. Finally, he broke the silence.

 “Please don’t cry, doll.”

 “I didn’t know I was until you walked in,” she admitted.

 “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

 “I might have deserved it a little,” she teased listlessly.

 “Or you might deserve this.”

 Josh lifted her chin and pulled her lips to his. With just a breath between them, he leaned forward and kissed her so sweetly it tasted like candy. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her as his tongue traced and explored her mouth. She moaned softly and threaded her fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

 He leaned her back onto the bed and hovered over her. As her chest heaved, he tugged at the tie on her robe and brushed it open to reveal her pebbled skin. He dropped his mouth to her stomach and kissed her until she thought she’d pass out. When she whimpered, he moved upward to her breasts and sucked her right nipple into his mouth. She arched under him, but he refused to do anything other than suckle her into a rigid peak before moving to the other side.

 She concentrated on steadying her breath and the grunts he released as his mouth laved and sucked and nuzzled her. She ran her hands over his shoulders and through his hair. He moved slowly, unhurried, intentionally as he covered her body and wound her tighter.

 He bit her earlobe and hissed in her ear, “You’re so beautiful, Jennifer.”

 “Josh,” she breathed in response. “Josh, I need you.”

 “What do you need?” he teased and slid down to her waist.

 “You. I need you.”

 He nudged her legs open and blew on her inner thighs. “Your voice is trembling, sweetheart.”

 “Please…”

 The first brush of his mouth against her swollen lips forced a deep moan from her. She grasped the sheets as he guided her right leg over his shoulder and angled his head to bury his tongue inside her. She squirmed, but he held her down as he feasted on her.

 Heat built within her, and she stopped struggling. She trusted him, and there was no reason to believe he’d do anything other than make her feel amazing. It was too early to have received such horrible news, and she knew this was a way for both of them to gain comfort from the other. She needed him, and he was there. She decided to trust him and enjoy it.

 The wave built inside her, and he pulled back just as she was about to crest. When she moaned her disappointment, he returned and began again, slower and with more attention to her clit. He drove her to the edge and retreated several times before he slid his fingers inside her and sucked until she arched and came.

 It took forever. Waves of pleasure rolled through her one after the other, which gave him time to settle himself between her legs and push into her. Her walls continued to spasm as he pumped into her. He chanted her name as he filled her, hard and rigid from the length of their foreplay. He buried his face in her neck, and she tugged at his t-shirt. She wanted his skin against hers, but the thin cotton was in the way.

 “Jen, I’m so close.”

 She tightened her grip on him as his movements grew more erratic. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

 “I can’t… Jen, I can’t.”

 “You can’t what, baby?”

 He cursed and bit her shoulder as he stilled and spilled into her. He lifted his head and kissed her before curling onto his side and pulling her against him. They lay together for hours, both scared to admit things between them had to change. Neither knew what to say, so they remained silent as they drifted in and out of sleep. The summer breeze wafted through the open window and caressed their skin. It was late afternoon before Josh finally washed his chest clean.

 ****

 “If that jackass calls me sweet cheeks one more time,” Jen fumed, “I’ll—”

 “Walk out the door and never come back,” Jack guessed while he continued to type furiously.

 She groaned as she sank into her chair and placed her head in her hands. “I would, but then I’d be unemployed and broke and on the streets.”

 “The offer still stands to give you my friend’s number. You could make the move to television easily. You’ve got the looks.”

 “Thanks, old man,” she joked, “but I like it here with you.”

 “I’m not going to be here much longer, Jen. You might want to reconsider.”

 Jen snapped her head to stare at her colleague, but he continued writing. It took several minutes for her to work through her confusion to ask him for clarification.

 “I’m retiring in a few months, sweetheart. I’ve been doing this for a while, and my kids have been begging me to get out of the business and come live near them. I’ve got grandchildren to spoil, you know. Can’t work forever.”

 “But Jack!” she sputtered.

 Finally, he stopped pounding on his keyboard and turned to face her. “Jennifer Lawrence, it’s time to take the next step. Mr. Murrow isn’t ever going to stop making comments about your legs, no matter how many times you threaten him with the EEOC. Take the interview, Jen. Go report for the local affiliate. You’re so talented. You’ll move up there just as quickly as you have here, and you won’t have to deal with that buffoon anymore.”

 She sat quietly for several moments, but the idea didn’t become any less strange to her. She didn’t know how to do television. She had no experience. Her training was in newspaper. She’d have to disguise her southern accent. She’d have different hours than she did at the Tribune.

 Then again, maybe that would be a benefit. Things were strained at home. They had been since she’d gone back to work after her vacation in early June. Josh was unhappy in Chicago, but that’s where she was. He stayed for her, but she knew he wouldn’t for too much longer. It was a miracle he’d remained with her as long as he had while the world swirled around them.

  Maybe this new career move would be good for them, give her a new purpose that would make him leaving easier. Because he was going to. She’d seen it before when he was preparing to graduate from Berkeley, and he was behaving much the same way. She woke every morning expecting his side of the bed to be empty. So far it hadn’t been, but it was only a matter of time.

 “Maybe I will take that number, Jack.”

 He grinned at her and scribbled a name and series of numbers on a slip of paper and handed it to her.

 “Good luck, Jen. You won’t need it, but you deserve well-wishes anyway.”

 “Thanks, old man. I’m going to miss you.”

 “Missing people is one of life’s greatest sufferings and privileges.”

 “That it is, friend. That it is.”

 ****

 “Right there, baby. Right there,” she whimpered as she moved over Josh’s face. He gripped her hips as she rode his mouth, her long legs doubled against his shoulders and flexing every time she rocked against him.

 He grunted and sucked harder on her clit causing her to lose her rhythm and buck against his nose. He inhaled her musky scent and reached up to cup her tits and pinch her nipples until she yelped in pain.

 “Make me come, Josh,” she begged. “Please. I need… Dammit, yes!”

 He licked and sucked harder causing her to grab the headboard and grind onto his chin until tremors raked through her and she climaxed. Her mewls filled the air as his face grew wetter. He didn’t stop until she fell off him and into a heap on the bed. He reached over to kiss her as he grabbed his cock and tugged. He was so hard and ready to burst, but she was in no condition to assist.

 “Let me help,” she slurred, but he shook his head and gripped himself harder.

 “I’ll be done in a minute. It’s fine, doll.”

 Her hand closed over his, and the feel of her skin on his made his groan. Together they pumped him faster. His hips bucked upward, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Jen scooted closer and whispered dirty phrases to him that made him jerk and spasm. When she nibbled his ear, he bit his lip and ejaculated. The fluid covered their hands, and he slid his fingers against hers.

 “This is so filthy,” she grunted and wrapped her legs around his thigh.

 “I like filthy. It looks good on you.”

 “Good enough for the newest female reporter at WMAQ Channel 5 to take Chicago by storm?”

 He flipped her onto her back and nudged her legs apart. With his eyes open, he kissed her hard and circled her clit with the pad of his thumb. Her lips parted when he pulled back to watch her reaction, and he alternately pressed and circled for several minutes. He grinned when she nudged his neck and lazily licked along his jaw.

 “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he buried his middle finger in her pussy.

 “I’m an investigative reporter, you know,” she gasped and raked her fingernails up his back. “I’ll find you if you leave me.”

 “Creepy,” he teased as he stroked her.

 “I know.” It came out as a moan, but she smiled as he continued to work her.

 “I’m not leaving,” he insisted.

 “Yes, you are.”

 “I don’t want to.”

 “I know you don’t.”

 Her eyes remained closed, and he watched as her back arched and her forehead scrunched.

 “You’re close again,” he marveled. “I’m jealous.”

 “Multiple orgasms. Best part of being a woman.”

 He bent to bite her nipple and sighed as she broke around him. Her legs clamped shut over his hand, and she pulled his hair for several seconds before relaxing her fist. He sought her mouth with his, and they kissed until they fell asleep together. Josh woke in the middle of the night when Jen got up to use the bathroom. As he lay alone in the dark, he realized she was right. He was preparing to leave. He’d been mentally packing for weeks. He craved her, but he needed more.

“Who? Is Dad okay? Is it Connor? Mom, tell me!” he begged with his heart in his throat.

 “Bobby. Bobby’s dead.”

 Josh’s knees folded, and he sank to the floor. The phone hung loosely and worthless from the wall as the world whirled around him. He blinked a few times as his vision darkened until he could hardly see. He slumped sideways and closed his eyes as he concentrated on breathing in and out through his nose.

 “Josh?” Jen called, but he didn’t have the energy to answer. “Josh! Oh my god! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 “He’s gone,” Josh whispered, too in shock to say anything else.

 “What?” she asked as her eyes tore over him. “Who’s gone? Is it Jackson? Talk to me, Josh!”

 The room spun around him and Jen’s face blurred into a murky smudge of color. A rushing sound filled his ears, and his vision darkened. He’d said and heard those words too many times in the past few years. He didn’t want to face anymore loss. It was too much. Too much for him to handle. He wasn’t that strong.

Chicago, Illinois, April 1968

“Tell me there’s coffee.”

 Josh turned over his shoulder and grinned. “Good morning, sleepy head. You’re going to be late to work if you don’t get a move on.”

 “Mmmm,” Jen mumbled as she took the mug of coffee he extended to her. She couldn’t stop staring at his broad, muscled back and the cut of his hips above his cotton boxers. “I could be late if you wanted to distract me.”

 “Tempting, tempting,” he murmured and pulled her into a side hug before kissing her on the cheek. “Wish I could, honey. I have an early meeting and need to get out of here pretty soon.”

 “Fine,” she grumbled and took a sip of her drink. “If you want to go save the world instead of having sex with your…whatever I am, then go ahead.”

 His eyes flashed, and he retorted, “What I’d rather do is not get shipped off to fucking ’Nam and get killed, so if I have to go to work at Big Brothers to do it, I’m gonna go every god damned day, Jen. Jackson’s already over there. Do you want me to die?”

 She gripped her coffee mug and stared at him with wide eyes. She’d meant her words as a joke, but she realized now he hadn’t taken them that way at all.

 “No, I don’t want you to die, Josh,” she whispered in a trembling rasp.

 He turned his back and pressed his palms flat on the countertop. “I’m sorry. I had a nightmare last night about it. I’m a little on edge.”

 She crossed to him, set her mug on the table, and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek to his back and then kissed him in the dip of his spine right between his shoulder blades. “Jackson’s going to be okay, and so are you. So is Andre if his draft number gets called. We both need to go to work, but when I get home tonight, be ready.”

 “For what?” he asked, a tinge of humor lacing his words.

 “Good stuff. That’s all I’ll say. Go get ready. Besides, it’s Thursday. The week’s almost over. Maybe we could go see that movie you want to see. Monkeys or something?” She quirked her eyebrow at him.

 “Planet of the Apes. I’m free tomorrow night. It’s a da— Uh, yeah, we could go.”

 She swallowed her frustration at his refusal to admit going to the movies together was a date and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She chugged the rest of her coffee as quickly as she could down the hot liquid and returned to her bedroom to get ready for work.

 “This war has to end,” she grumbled as she slipped from her building and hailed a cab. She didn’t have the patience to brave the bus system in her frame of mind.

 The past few months had flown by, and Jen was grateful every day for Josh coming back into her life. The day after the Tet Offensive, once they’d satisfied themselves physically after their time apart, Josh insisted they discuss what had happened back in California. The conversation stalled after a few minutes since she was unwilling to admit anything beyond what she already had. She’d slipped from his bed because the depth of feeling and pleasure he’d stoked in her that night had terrified her. Josh was too passionate and too intent on social change to commit to a full-fledged relationship. That hadn’t changed over the past two years, and she cared about him too much to admit how she felt when she knew he’d not respond in kind—even though she was convinced his feelings for her were every bit as intense.

 She hadn’t asked him how many women he’d been with during the time they were apart. She knew there were some and forced herself not to care. She’d enjoyed herself during her senior year in college too, but no one else had driven her as far over the peak as Josh had. She craved him, but she also recognized the need to focus on and develop her career. Married women didn’t last long in the field of journalism, so that wasn’t something she could entertain at this point anyway. As the cab pulled up to the Tribune building, she shook her head to clear it. She needed all her faculties today if she was going to deal with her misogynistic pig of an editor.

 Jack waved at her as she entered the office, and she stopped by his desk to check in. He greeted her with his gruff smile and informed her, “Headlines of the day: the president’s in Hawaii trying to make peace with the Vietnamese. Everyone’s a flutter about the Mountaintop speech King gave last night. We’re working every angle—civil rights leaders, everyone who was part of the Chicago Freedom Movement two years ago, people who might have run into him on the street once.”

 She snorted with laughter at his droll commentary. “Thanks for the update. I thought I was going to get here early today, but I should have known you’d beat me into the office.”

 He studied her thoughtfully for a few minutes before asking, “Have you ever thought about television reporting?”

 “Are you trying to get rid of me, old man?” she teased. Jack was one of the few people in the office she really liked. He was talented and conscientious, and she’d learned a lot from him in the ten months she’d been at the paper.

 “Never. I just think you could be happier than you are here with Mr. Murrow leering at your legs. Just keep it in mind in case you want to get out of here. Or in case he ever becomes completely unbearable. I’m lucky. He doesn’t like my legs.”

 “Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate it,” Jen said with a soft smile and chuckle. She crossed to her desk and picked up the manila folder with her day’s assignment. She heaved a deep sigh and got to work.

 The day flew by as she worked on a follow up article to the day’s front page news about President Johnson in Honolulu and his attempts to bring the situation in Vietnam to a peaceful conclusion. As she typed her story, she forced herself to remain calm. Thoughts of Josh being drafted and shipping out scared her enough that her hands shook as she typed. She tried to ignore the list of names that came down the wire every day and prayed every time she perused it until she made sure Jackson’s name wasn’t on it.

 “Jennifer, where’s your story? Your deadline was ten minutes ago.”

 Shaking from a work-induced haze, she glanced at her watch and gasped when she realized it was almost 6:00 in the evening. Her brief lunch break had been almost over six hours ago.

 “I’m so sorry, Mr. Murrow! I didn’t realize how late it was.” She glanced at his stern expression, but he seemed appeased when he handed her the sheet from her typewriter. “Here’s what I have. I think it’ll work without any editing. Because of the deadline, I mean.”

 “I’ll be the judge of that,” her editor barked. Glancing over her words, he nodded and waved a copy editor over to make the necessary corrections.

 Jen swallowed a scowl and straightened the papers on her desk. She was just about to gather her belongings and head out the door when another reporter shrieked from the corner of the room. “What’s happening now?” she grumbled and shut her purse back in her drawer. The television screen showed a crowd of people milling outside what looked to be a hotel.

 Her editor bellowed across the newsroom, “Everybody to their desks. We’re going to have to work up a different front page in the next few hours. Call home if you need to, but I need everyone ready to go in five minutes.”

 “What’s happening? Jack, what’s happening?” she begged desperately as he rushed by her.

 He whipped around to face her, his eyes wild, and explained in a dazed voice, “Dr. King’s been shot.”

 Ice flooded her veins, and she shook her head in disbelief. “But he just gave a speech last night! He was in Memphis working with the sanitation workers! How could they shoot him? He’s got to be all right! He’s got to be!”

 As she sank into her chair, it quickly became apparent that the civil rights leader was not okay. The wire pumped out report after report from Memphis. None of them seemed to have any answers or a report of his condition for almost an hour. Just as she felt as if she must surely be experiencing a terrible dream, the news broke that the assassination attempt had worked. Dr. King was dead.

 Jen sat stunned, unable to move until a fellow reporter barked at her to pass him a folder she’d been holding listlessly. She closed it carefully and extended it toward him. When he took it, she sprinted from her desk to the nearest bathroom and vomited into the toilet until her stomach ached. Gasping for air, she rose from the concrete floor and splashed water on her face in the sink. She gulped handfuls of liquid in a futile attempt to dispel the foul taste. After several minutes, she stumbled back to her desk and waited for further instructions.

 “Lawrence!” Mr. Murrow barked from his office. “You can go, sweet cheeks. Be here early tomorrow. It’s going to be a huge day. I need my best tits and ass on the beat.”

 Jen resisted the urge to flip him the finger. Instead, she calmly gathered her belongings and bolted for her apartment.

 “Josh?” she called as soon as she stepped through the door. “Josh, where are you?” Frantic, she threw down her purse and jacket and entered the small living room. The overhead fixture was off, and the lamps remained dark.  He sat on the couch, facing the television. Flashes of light streaked across his face from the images on the screen. The volume was turned down so low, she could barely hear it as she stood next to it.

 “Josh?” she asked softly.

 He raised his red-rimmed eyes to her, and her heart broke at the pain reflected in them. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and she took a step toward him. He didn’t move or speak as she crossed the room and sat next to him on the couch. When she reached over to grab his hand, she was shocked to find it was ice cold.

 “He’s gone,” he mumbled, and she nodded.

 “I know. I’m so sorry, hon.”

 He crumpled then, bending over onto himself and releasing a howling scream that echoed through her bones. He pounded his hands against his knees and unleashed a stream of profanity. She sat helpless, terrified of his reaction, and unsure how to help.

 “They fucking murdered him, Jen. They shot him down like a dog.”

 Tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart breaking for him and all those who felt a connection to King and the work he’d done during his lifetime. She knew Josh was horrified by the act every bit as much as he worried about Jackson’s reaction once he heard the news. She knew Josh would insist that he spend time with Jackson’s family as soon as he could. Most of all, she feared that King’s assassination would be the catalyst for him to leave Chicago and become more heavily involved in the protest movement. He’d been semi-idle for months, and she wasn’t sure their relationship—whatever it was—would be enough to keep him from rejoining his friends as they fought to change the system.

 After several minutes of bellowed rage, he finally turned to her and crushed her to him. He sobbed into her neck as she held his quaking body firmly in her arms. His mouth sought hers desperately, and before she knew what was happening, he pressed her backward onto the cushions and was grinding hard against her. He grunted as he thrust his hips, and she shimmied her skirt upwards to free her legs. He broke from her briefly to fumble with the button on his jeans while she pulled off her panties, but his mouth returned to hers almost immediately.

 “I fucking need you,” he gasped as his fingers slipped into her folds, and she arched her back at the contact.

 “Whatever you need. I’m here,” she panted. She squealed her surprise when he flipped her over and pulled her hips up to rest above her bent knees before nudging in between her legs. Without warning, he slammed into her, and she cried out as he filled her.

 “Jennifer,” he groaned into the darkened room. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

 She braced her hands on the arm of the couch and reared back against him. As his hips slapped against her bare ass, she yelped his name as he stretched her. Her cries grew louder and more erratic as his pace increased. Within seconds, he bucked against her frantically, practically lifting her off her knees as he fucked her from behind.

 “Josh! Josh, slow down! I can’t—” She broke off as he pounded her and bit her lower lip before releasing a prolonged wail. What he was doing to her was painful, but it also felt amazing to bear the brunt of such frantic passion. She knew he needed her, even if he was lost within himself.

 Josh cursed as he drove into her, practically incoherent as he released his frustrations. He smacked her bare right cheek twice as he neared his climax and grunted her name repeatedly. When he began to chant a warning of his impending climax, Jen braced herself on one forearm and reached down to rub her clit furiously.

 “Holy fucking hell,” she howled as her walls pulsed. Josh cried out his release and poured into her as she expelled a gush of fluid. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest as he stroked her several more times. Their skin dripped with sweat as they collapsed in a ruined heap on the brown plaid sofa.

 His body shook behind her, and her heart broke when she realized he was still sobbing. She pulled from him gently and grimaced as he slid out of her and a gush of his ejaculate streamed down her inner thigh. She swiped at the mess with her discarded panties, but it didn’t help. Instead, she turned her attention to the broken man she desperately wanted to help feel better.

 Jen tried to kiss him, but he pulled away from her. Stung, she slapped at his chest and struggled to disentangle herself from him. When she finally freed herself, she ran to the bathroom where she caught a glimpse of her image in the bathroom mirror.

 Startled, she studied her tear streaked face and the mascara that had bled to black half-moons under each eye. Her lipstick was smeared across her left cheek, and her hair stuck up in several directions. She looked like she’d just been bedded by a paying customer, and a rush of shame flooded her. Josh had never been so rough with her, and it scared her that she liked it as much as every other time they’d been intimate in more gentle ways.

 After cleaning Josh’s semen from her legs, she swallowed her pill and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for reliable birth control. Josh had made no secret of his belief in free love, so condoms weren’t something she wanted to push. She simply prayed that he’d been careful during the time they’d been apart.

 When she’d finally regained her composure, she returned to the living room to see Josh sitting lifeless on the couch, his fly still unzipped, and his flaccid dick hanging loosely out of his pants. His eyes were vacant as he lifted them to hers. He blinked slowly several times before rising and stumbling to her bedroom. Once there, he stripped and fell into her bed. He curled his body into the fetal position until she slid in next to him. She kissed his bare skin until he unwound enough to pull her against him.

 “Don’t leave me again,” she whispered against his chest as they lay together in the dark. “I know you’re hurting right now and that you feel like you need to make a difference, but don’t go.”

 He barked a wry laugh and argued pointedly, “I didn’t walk out on you, Jennifer. If I remember correctly, you snuck out in the middle of the night so I woke up to an empty bed the next morning.”

 “You were leaving Berkeley. You weren’t going to be sticking around for more than a few days, and I didn’t think I could stand to say goodbye to you after…”

 “After what? After you let me get you off? After I helped you realize Nick was a jerk who didn’t care about whether or not you enjoyed yourself? I tried to find you every day between graduation and the day I left. I wasn’t the one who wanted to say goodbye.”

 Wincing at the bitterness in his words, she knew she needed to word her next statement carefully. She couldn’t risk driving him from her when he was hurting so badly. “I know that now, and I’m sorry. My only excuse is the one I’ve told you—that you were already leaving and I didn’t want to beg you to stay. I didn’t want to ask when I knew you felt the call to go. Jackson needed you then, but I need you right now, and I think you need me too. Please stay in Chicago—at least for a little while longer.”

 “I can’t promise that, Jen. You know I can’t.” She trailed her fingers over his chest and grinned as his skin twitched under her light touch. His physical reaction to her made her feel much more powerful than she ever had.

 “I know, but please stay until you can’t any longer. Don’t choose to go.”

 He didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled her over and kissed her deeply. Her mouth opened under his, and she felt the beginnings of another erection poking against her inner thigh. Realizing there wasn’t anything else to be said that could alter the situation, she lost herself in the feel of him.

 “More,” she begged as he teased her with just the tip of his shaft.

 “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he murmured into her ear as he sank in another two inches before pulling out. When she moaned her disapproval at his absence, he stroked her deeper. “Forgive me.”

 “Forgive me too,” she begged. When he breathed his surrender into her neck, she shuddered and conceded to him and the orgasm he’d stoked inside her.

 They came together repeatedly throughout the night, clinging to each other as he woke from nightmares of burning jungles, maimed bodies, and pools of blood. His anguished cries haunted their bed for weeks, and Jen lost track of the number of times she woke with bruises from him thrashing against her in the throes of panicked, restless sleep. The time together was hard, but she kept reminding herself that it was better than being without him again.

 Chicago, Illinois, January 1968

“Hey, sweet cheeks! I need you in here now.”

 “I have a name. It’s Jennifer,” she snapped at her editor.

 “Use your name on your byline, baby cakes. Right now I need you on a story.” Mr. Murrow barely glanced up from his desk as he handed her a manila folder. “This is coming in on the wire, and I need your take on it. For some reason, people think you know what you’re talking about, and your stories sell papers. Get on it.”

 “What is it?” she asked as she flipped through the papers and tried to get a sense of the information she was supposed to compile and turn into some semblance of a story.

 “An attack in Saigon. They’re calling it the Tet Offensive or something like that.”

 “Tet?”

 “Vietnamese New Year. They attacked us on their god damned holiday. Nobody was expecting it. They took the embassy,” he barked.

 “They did what?!” she shrieked.

 Mr. Murrow snapped his head up and drawled, “You know for a reporter, you don’t seem to be too smart. Get yourself together, and write me a damn column. All the information we have is there. Turn on the television, and watch the wire. Information’s probably going to be pouring in all day. I need something good.”

 She spun and exited his office in a near sprint. News flooded the wire and television throughout the day, and it got worse and worse. Live images interspersed with newsreels that brought the horror of war into the Tribune building in Chicago. Bombs exploded in the streets and troops scrambled to secure the embassy. She searched every American face she saw to make sure it wasn’t Josh. Somehow she scraped together a summary of the attack that she hoped provided a coherent explanation of the significance of the event. She’d thought the nation was winning the fight against communism in Vietnam until the surprise attack, and she was sure she wasn’t the only one.

 By the end of the day, she was exhausted and sick with worry. She’d spent almost two years beating herself up over sneaking from the bed the night Josh had helped her reach her first orgasm, and she was reminded again of the gulf between her and her former friend. She missed him, and she gulped down her disappointment that he hadn’t called her after Jackson had promised to pass along the message that she was in Chicago. Apparently, he was over her—if he’d ever really been into her in the first place—or he wasn’t able to contact her. She hoped it wasn’t because he was overseas fighting. With a frustrated grunt, she gathered her belongings and rose to leave. As she neared the door, she tossed a friendly farewell to a fellow reporter.

 “Jennifer, can you wait for a second?” Jack requested in his gruff tone. She stifled a groan and shifted from one foot to another with more than a hint of impatience. Jack reminded her of her oldest brother, which was the only reason she hadn’t bolted. He hung up the phone and held out a small piece of paper to her.

 “What’s this?” she asked in genuine confusion. “It’s not a source, is it? I’m going home.”

 “I’m sorry, Jen. I just found this in a pile of papers on my desk. I hope it’s not from a source because it’s dated a few weeks ago. I’m really sorry if it cost you a story.” He looked so sincere she decided not to make a big deal about it until she saw the name on the paper.

 “Josh Hutchinson? Who’s Josh—?” She stopped abruptly as the realization hit her so hard she almost doubled over. “Josh Hutcherson? Josh called me three weeks ago, and you’re just now giving me the message? What were you thinking?” she cried. She couldn’t figure out if she was thrilled or furious, but she streaked back to her desk and grabbed her phone.

 She dialed two numbers before she froze. She didn’t want to have this conversation at the office. She needed time to prepare, time to think, and she wanted peace and quiet. Her roommate would probably be home tonight unless she was out with her boyfriend, but her apartment still sounded like a much better place to contact the man who’d haunted her dreams since she stupidly left him in the middle of the night.

 By the time she made it to her place, she’d convinced herself not to call him back. It had been so long, and it didn’t seem as if he’d worked too hard to get in touch with her since she’d left him. As she threw her purse on her bed, she changed her mind again and decided to call him as soon as she’d changed. After she was in comfortable clothing, she was faced with the reality of talking to him and decided to sleep on it before she dialed his number. She flipped on the television, adjusted the knob to tune to CBS, and sank onto the couch. Within thirty seconds of war coverage, Jen knew she couldn’t wait until the next day. She needed reassurance that he wasn’t calling to tell her goodbye before he shipped off to Vietnam.

 She pulled the paper from her pocket and traced the numbers one by one. With a shaky sigh, she slipped her finger into the dial and twirled it to eight. “Just keep going. Five more numbers. Four more numbers. You’re okay. He’s going to be thrilled to hear from you. I hope. Relax.” The phone rang, and she held her breath until she heard the line crackle as someone picked up on the other end.

 “Hello?”

 “I-is Josh there?” She practically garbled the words.

 “He’s not back from work yet. Do you want me to take a message?”

 She nodded before remembering the woman on the other end of the line couldn’t see her. “Yes, please. Can you tell him Jennifer called?”

 “Jennifer? Do you have a last name, honey?”

 “Lawrence. I’m his friend from college.”

 “Oh, Jen! You must know my son, Jackson. Jackson, get over here. Talk to your friend.” Jen held the phone from her ear when the receiver banged against what she assumed was a table. Within a few seconds, she heard Jackson’s voice.

 “Jen Lawrence? It’s about time you called him back.”

 She grinned at the sound of his familiar tones and teased, “Just trying to help him remember how to miss me.”

 “Well, he’s doing that. Been moping around here for weeks.”

 “I just got the message tonight. One of my co-workers lost his number in a pile on his desk.” She paused to inhale before asking quietly, “Will you please ask him to call me tonight? It doesn’t matter what time. I really want to talk to him.”

 “Right on. I’ll tell him. He had a late meeting, but he’ll be back soon.”

 Time passed much too slowly after she bade Jackson goodbye. Her roommate returned by 7:30, and they ate dinner together and tried to distract themselves from the horror of Tet by watching the night’s episode of The Beverly Hillbillies in between special reports that interrupted regular broadcasting. It was almost 9:00 when the phone rang, and Jen nearly jumped out of her skin at the noise. She froze momentarily and then leapt from the couch to run into the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall.

 “Hello?” she gasped, breathless from her quick dash down the hall.

 His voice rumbled across the phone line and straight to her core. “Jen?”

 “Josh? Is that you?”

 “It’s me. Damn, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you, sweetheart?” The timbre in his voice deepened, and Jen was transported back in time and to the West Coast. Memories of their time together, the way he laughed, the feel of him against her, the smell of his musky cologne in the crook of his neck… All it took was a 45 second phone conversation, and she felt like she’d die without him.

 She burst into tears and sobbed into the receiver, “I m-missed you s-so much. I’m so s-sorry I ran out on you. I— I don’t—”

 “Shhhhh. It’s okay. It’s all right. Everything’s aces, Jen.” She clutched the phone and wept while he reassured her everything would be okay.

 “Can you come over?” she implored. “Please.”

 “What’s the address?”

 Thirty minutes later a knock sounded on her door, and she ripped it open to greet him. Her eyes swept over his face and down his body. He was leaner than she remembered, but his frame was still muscled with a wiry strength. His dark hair was longer and curled just above his collar. The same green eyes flashed with intelligence and insight as well as hints of appreciation and mirth. The dark stubble on his jaw and the wisp of a mustache made him look more like a man than the undergrad she’d known in California.

 “Hi…” she managed to huff but could only stand frozen in her doorway.

 “You’re a sight for sore eyes, beautiful,” he observed softly, and she launched herself at him. His strong arms wrapped around her and held her tightly against his chest. Her mouth sought his, and he groaned as her eager tongue rubbed against his. Her lips nipped at him, and she pressed into his length.

 Amy, Jen’s roommate, cleared her throat loudly, and Jen flushed as she broke away from Josh. “Do you want to come inside?” she asked, and he nodded. Jen started to introduce him to her roommate, but Amy simply waved away her words.

 “I’m heading over to Jake’s for the night. Have fun, you two. I’ll call before I bother to come home again.”

 As soon as the door closed, he was on her again, his fingers twisted in her hair and his body pressing hers against the wall. She moaned into his mouth and bucked her hips forward in an invitation.

 “Now?” he asked, clearly impatient and bordering on desperate.

 She didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she cupped his growing erection and squeezed heartily. He dragged his hands up her bare thighs and tugged her dark blue miniskirt up to rest above her hips. He jerked her panties down quickly and rammed his middle finger inside her. She keened at the sudden, welcome intrusion and fumbled with his belt and zipper. She freed him quickly, and he swiped her slickness over his shaft in a half-hearted attempt to prime himself for her.

 “I’m not going to last long,” he panted into her neck and grimaced when she huffed that she didn’t give a fuck. His worries assuaged, he slammed into her and roared her name. She threw her head back and hitched her right leg over his hip. She clung to him as he pounded into her relentlessly. She called his name and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of his hard cock ramming in and out from between her legs. He was strong, and it felt like a cannon booming in staccato rhythm that made her want to explode.

 “Jen! Oh my fuck! Jen!” His voice escalated in pitch as he spasmed and jerked against her. She shifted slightly to increase the friction and gritted her teeth as heat flooded her.

 “Harder! Harder, harder, harder!” she cried, and he pounded into her so roughly she was sure she’d have bruises the next day. “I’m gonna…oh! Yes!”

 “I have to pull out. I’m gonna come. Shit!” he yelped as he slipped from her. She pressed him tightly to her and felt the warm fluid seep through her polyester shirt. He grunted and huffed in an attempt to gain control, but his body shook so hard, she worried he’d fall.

 “Are you okay?” she asked as he trembled against her. “Come to the bedroom, honey.”

 As she led him down the hall, he grumbled, “We need to talk at some point.”

 “We will, but later. I can’t think until after.”

 He chuckled and wondered, “After what, Jennifer?”

 “After you remind me what an orgasm feels like when it’s not self-inflicted.”

 She shimmied her skirt down her legs and pulled the soiled shirt over her head. A few seconds later, she dropped her bra to the floor and crawled onto the bed. He shed his pants, tossed his sticky shirt into a heap, and climbed in next to her.

 “Let me look at you,” he murmured as he perched on his knees and swept his eyes across her bare form. He licked his lips at what he saw and admitted, “You’re just as beautiful as you were the last time we, uh… At my graduation. Close your eyes. Just feel.”

 When she did, he concentrated on running his hands over every inch of her body and followed closely behind with the tip of his tongue. He sucked her nipples into his mouth and worried them between his teeth. He massaged her limbs and lower back until she whimpered, and then he rained butterfly kisses across her face while driving his fingers into her. She twisted and turned under him as he stroked her deliberately, and he grinned when she opened wider for him. When he’d slipped three fingers into her heat, he worked to stoke a fire inside her.

 “Oh, Christ,” she released in a cross between a moan and a whimper. “I forgot how fucking amazing this feels.”

 “Remember? Did I finger fuck you last time?” He racked his brain quickly. He thought he’d remembered every part of what they’d done together. When she arched her back to push against him harder, he realized he didn’t care about the last time. He wanted to be completely present in the scent and look and feel of her at this very moment.

 “Don’t know. Don’t care. Just keep doing it now,” she begged and released a stream of profanity.

 “Jesus, it’s hot when you swear, dirty mouthed girl,” he teased and slid down her body. His lips brushed across her slit, and he lapped at her with the flat of his tongue until she mewled. He pulled his fingers from her and delved his tongue into her heat as she thrashed her head from side to side.

 “I’m gonna…” she grunted, but he stopped just as she was about to fall over the edge.

 “Turn over,” he growled and flipped her onto her stomach.

 “What are you doing?” she panted, suddenly wary of him, but he didn’t let her worry for long before he rendered her speechless.

 Leaning over her back, he pulled her up against him till she was on her knees and grunted into her ear, “Hold on to the headboard. We’re gonna fuck hard.”

 She grasped the wooden frame and panted, “How does that even—? Oh, shit.”

 He slammed into her, and she cried out, surprised and slightly in pain. He felt huge entering her that way, and she gritted her teeth and settled onto her elbows to anchor herself while he hammered into her. It took only a few thrusts before she adjusted to him, and then she wanted nothing other than for him to keep going. She rocked back against him and was rewarded with his approving grunt and a deeper thrust. The sound of their skin slapping together reverberated throughout the room, and Jen tightened her grip on the slats of the headboard. Her eyes widened as her arousal seeped down her thighs.

 “I’m almost—” Her words slurred into a high pitched wail as her body seized and she climaxed. She arched her back and slammed back against him. Josh swore as he continued to fuck her, and she marveled at how differently her two experiences with him were. He’d been gentle, almost loving, on the night of his graduation, but tonight he seemed to be driven by desperation and a hint of anger. He didn’t slow down as she rode the wave of her orgasm that seemed to last for several minutes.

 He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged as he straightened and tensed. “Fucking hell,” he grunted as he pulled from her and came. Jen moaned as his warm cum spurted over her bare back and ass. She reared and rubbed against his abdomen until they were both sticky, filthy, and gratified.

 “Don’t you ever fucking walk out on me again,” he grumbled as he collapsed against the mattress. “I’m so mad at you.”

 She couldn’t answer. She could barely breathe, and she felt like she was floating. She gasped several times before rolling onto her side and stretching like a cat. Her eyes drooped as she cleaned her back on the sheet before scooting over against Josh’s trembling body and rubbing her leg over his.

 After several moments of ragged breathing and rapid heartbeats, she finally mumbled, “I think I like you mad.”

 Josh chuckled and rolled onto his back. He pulled her with him and settled her into a tight embrace with her head on his chest. She watched in fascination as her breath fluttered the patch of chest hair between his pectorals and wondered how quickly they could go at it again.

 “Why?” he asked quietly.

 There it was—the question she’d been dreading having to answer for almost two years. She still didn’t have a good answer.

 “I don’t know. I just know that I was terrified, and I knew you were leaving anyway.” When he didn’t answer, she added in a near-whisper, “I’m sorry.”

 “This conversation isn’t over,” he warned, and she nodded into the crook of his neck.

 “I wouldn’t expect it to be, but I wouldn’t be upset if we focused on other things for the rest of the night. I’m so happy you’re here.”

 “I bet you’d be happier if I was between your legs,” he teased.