Page 39 of Old Habits

“Which is housed on private property.”

“Still better than a park bench.”

I scoff. “Jesus, Jove…”

She frowns. “Why are you being such a tool about this?”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You?”

“Yes, me.”

“Why would I call you when I have casa de la Ford here?” She pats the back of the seat. “It’s suited me plenty before.”

I pause, my mind once again hammered with unaskable questions as to where the hell she’s been for four damn years.

I pop the door open. “Come on.”

“Really, Will. I’m fine. I’ll get another few hours here and then I’ll sneak out before Marv opens in the morning. Easy peasy.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Come on.”

She heaves a sigh but shuts up and grabs her bag. We weave through the dark garage, moving in total silence as I lock up the shop behind us and hit the sidewalk.

I turn off the square onto First Street and Jovie finally speaks again.

“Where are we going?”

“My place,” I answer.

"You live on First Street?”

“Yes.”

She chuckles. “Remember how we used to TP this entire street every Halloween?”

“Yes.” I smile. “And the kids still do that, by the way.”

“Really?” Her smirk widens.

“They call it a Jovie, as a matter of fact.”

She pauses her stride. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“They named a delinquent holiday tradition after me?” she asks, clenching her chest.

“You certainly left an interesting legacy behind ya, Jove,” I say.

“Wow.” She picks up her pace to catch up with me. “This pleases me.”

We reach my house and Jovie follows me inside. She hovers in the living room, her eyes calmly scanning everything as I gesture around.