Chapter 2Joakim leads me through my apartment as though he’s the one living here, bypassing the couch, continuing into the bedroom, and stopping by the bed. After a squeeze of my hand, he lets go, grabs the neck of his sweater, and pulls it over his head.
“What’s up with the lutefisk?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at the ugly Santa-hatted fish.
He doesn’t look at me as he carefully folds it and puts it away. “It’s my lucky sweater. I haven’t washed it since that night. When I got home, I stashed it in a drawer and forgot about it. When I…when the need to see you grew overwhelming, I dug it out, telling myself I could still smell you on it. I…” He clears his throat. “I needed the extra courage.”
A memory flashes before my eyes, of me, scrubbing red wine off white walls while cursing him unde
