“This is Jake Anders. Don’t bother leaving a message because the likelihood I call you back is slim to none.”

​

Beeeeeeeep.

​

“So what I’m hearing is there’s a chance. The actual definition of slim is very small, meaning it is possible.” She paused after saying the same thing every time she got his voicemail.

​

In the past month, it was every single time.

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“If you don’t want people to think there is a slim chance, you should change your voicemail. And what you have now is rude and uncalled for.”

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Ugh.

​

She was letting her irritation and anger shine through.

​

“I would like to retract that last sentence. Please strike it from the record. It is your choice how you manage your voicemail.”

​

She held in a short laugh, but felt better adding a bit of humor only he would understand. A little inside joke between the two of them. He’d dated a lawyer one time. It lasted all of two months, and she had way too much fun teasing him about it, especially when everyone warned him not to date a lawyer.

​

“Did you know that beavers are the second-largest living rodents, after the capybaras, and they can weigh up to one hundred and ten pounds?”

​

Commence awkwardness by throwing out a random fact—her specialty.

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“Well, let’s chat later. Call me.”

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She ended the message and set her phone on the counter.

​

“What the hell is a capybaras?”

​

Jo turned around from the island counter to see her roommate, Ivy.

​

Ivy waved her hand frivolously in the air, shaking her head. “I take it back. I don’t want to know. You’ll give me a full history of the dumb animal, and I don’t care.”

​

At least she didn’t think she’d made up the animal. Because some people thought half the things she said were fabricated. Why would she lie? It made no sense.

​

“How is Detective Anders?”

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Jo frowned.

​

“Oh, he didn’t answer. Again. Why do you keep trying with that man?”

​

“Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

​

Ivy rolled her eyes. “I bet if I asked you, you’d know the exact number of days it took to build.”

​

“Actually—”

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“Nope. I don’t care.” Ivy wrapped an arm around her, squeezing. “But I care about you. Stop calling him. Stop doing this to yourself.”

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“He’s grieving. I won’t stop being there for someone in a time of need.”

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“Jo, you’re grieving too.”

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Yes, well, everyone grieved in different ways. She poured herself into her work, and Jake did the exact opposite. He removed himself from the world. From life itself.

​

Ivy kissed her on the cheek, then rounded the counter. “Don’t wait up for me tonight. I have a hot date.”

​

“Okay.” She giggled because she never waited up for her roommate. Because she always had a hot date.

​

“You know what you need,” Ivy said, pointing a finger at her with the milk jug in her other hand. “You need to get laid. It would relax you and de-stress you.” She bobbed her head up and down. “And we both know it’s been way too long.”

​

Whereas her friend got laid too much. She wouldn’t call Ivy loose—ever—but she wasn’t cautious with who she gave herself to. Jo was much more cautious.

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So much more.

​

Maybe too cautious.

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But she’d never done well with dating. Or men. Or flirting. She was hopeless. They both knew it.

​

“I know a guy—”

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“Did you know that speed dating was invented by Rabbi Yaacov Deyo in the 1990s. He wanted to make it easier for single Jewish people in Los Angeles to meet each other.”

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“Fine. I hear you. You don’t want me to set you up with this cute guy I work with.” Ivy drank her glass of milk, a wicked smile on her face after finishing it. “I could find a speed dating night for us. I would totally do it with you. If that’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

​

Well, that random fact blew up in her face.

​

“On that note,” Jo said, standing up, “I have to get to work. You have fun on your date and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

​

Ivy hollered at her back. “That’s everything. You’re Mrs. I-hate-fun!”

​

Jo shut the door, breathing out a long breath. She loved her roommate to pieces, but she could be a handful at times. Honestly, Ivy was one of the rare few who could put up with her odd tendencies and weird behavior.

She couldn’t help herself. When she got nervous or uncomfortable, she spouted facts. All kinds of facts. Random ones. Useless ones. Interesting ones. Most people found her odd, which created problems making friends. When she moved to New York two years ago, she’d moved in with a complete stranger—Ivy—to save money on rent. It had been touch and go at first, but they’d looked past each other’s faults—because they both had them—and became more than roommates. They were friends. Jo hated admitting it, but Ivy was about the only friend she had in New York. Her co-workers didn’t count. She might go out for a drink or two with them on occasion, but they didn’t ask her to join them often. Even at work, she was the odd one out.

​

But she was used to it. All her life she’d been the oddball, the weird one. It was nothing new and she couldn’t change who she was. Nor did she want to. If people couldn’t like her for her, they weren’t worth her time. Something her brother had told her all the time.

​

She shook loose any thoughts of her brother and headed for the subway.

​

The precinct was bustling with activity when she arrived. As usual. She waved and smiled on her way to her desk, though she received grunts and half-hearted grins in return.

​

No big deal.

​

Just because people couldn’t return a kindness when receiving one didn’t mean she would stop doing it herself. She worked hard on putting herself out there more. On making the first move, making the first greeting. It wasn’t easy. Some days she wanted to glower and glare as much as the rest of them.

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Especially in the last two months.

​

But if she didn’t maintain a sunny disposition, she’d fall down the same rabbit hole Jake had fallen in. Then who would save them? She was here to pull him out. To save them both. Sort of. It was kind of difficult to be there for him when she lived in New York and he resided in Minnesota.

​

“Yo, Jo. Hit me with a fact.”

​

She looked up from her desk to Sterling, one of the detectives in her division—violent crimes—staring at her with anticipation from across the room. Sometimes, people would request this of her—a random fact. It didn’t always happen and she hadn’t quite figured out if they were making fun of her or not. Or if they enjoyed the weird things she knew.

​

“Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words.” Then she returned her focus to the case files on her desk.

​

She heard snickers from across the room.

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That was why she could never figure out if they were teasing her or not. The laughter that always accompanied after she word-vomited facts without hesitating. Why not spread her knowledge? One of these days, they would appreciate her wide variety of information.

​

“Damn. I’m impressed.”

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Jo looked up to see Detective Tate Powell standing next to her desk.

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“You even pronounced that long ass word without jumbling it up once.”

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Well, she’d never admit it, but she had practiced saying it when she came across it. When one spouts facts all the time, one needs to say it clearly and without incident.

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“What’s the fear of working with idiots?” Tate drawled.

​

Jo chuckled. Most people didn’t like Tate, considering him too brash and insensitive. Maybe she liked him because he didn’t pull any punches. He didn’t tell lies or pretend to be someone he wasn’t. She found him refreshing, when everyone else seemed to hide who they were.

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And most importantly, he didn’t keep his distance from her. He didn’t think she was odd.

​

“I’m afraid there is no actual phobia of that.”

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“That’s too bad because if I had a phobia, it would be that. I’m surrounded by them.” He flashed her a genuine smile. “Have a great day, Jo.”

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Then he was walking away and she didn’t have time to thank him for lifting her spirits.

​

Because, yes. She was going to have a great day.

​