You can’t help how you react to things. And that was my reaction. I wasn’t about to keep that from Jamie. He wanted all of my truths, and I wanted him to have them. I didn’t want anything between us. So I shared.
I thought he would understand. I wanted him to understand. To talk to me about it and not make me feel stupid for reacting the way I did. But he couldn’t do that.
In his eyes, I was wrong. That’s all he was seeing. He became mean. Callous. He brushed off my reaction as if it meant nothing. And that hurt me more than anything.
But I didn’t show him that. I stayed angry, and I held on to that anger for as long as I could.
I worked and I slept and I avoided. Even going as far as to take my house off the market so I could keep up with this plan. I refused to see Jamie, and being in the same house would make that a challenge. I couldn’t be around him. I was too angry. I refused to talk about him. I refused to think about him. For days, I kept this up. But when you care about someone as much as I cared about him, when you loved someone the way I loved Jamie, whole heart, down-the-road kind of love, it was impossible to keep that pain out.
I started missing him. A little at first. Just for a second, and then in a single breath it became all I felt. At home and at night and at work. I missed him everywhere. I cried when he didn’t come in to Whitecaps to claim a booth, and later into sheets that wrapped around me and smelled like summer. I ate takeout on my couch and gave up all use of my dining room table. I doodled Jamie’s name while I listened for him, the sound of his bike or his key in the lock, and it killed me on days seven and eight and now when I still didn’t hear it.
My heart wanted me to go to Jamie, but it needed him to come to me. And I was over wanting a sorry from him. I just wanted him. Jamie wouldn’t need to say a word.
Just come here, my heart begged. Hold me. We won’t make it to day ten.
A knock on the front door sounded.
I gasped, eyes widening in hope-filled panic as my heart lifted its tear-stricken face. Jamie.
I pushed up and quickly stood from the couch, crossing the room in a sprint. “Please please please please,” I whisper begged, reaching the door with clammy hands and pulse racing. I twisted the knob and swung it open, mouth readying to greet Jamie with a “sorry” for both of us.
The word never left me.
“Oh.” I blinked, jerking back at the sight of Brian standing on my porch. I shifted my weight on my feet, looking up at him.
He was tall, built like Jamie, but you wouldn’t know he was a surfer just by looking at him. He didn’t have the sun on his skin the way Jamie did. His hair was buzzed short, not falling into his eyes and damp from the ocean. He wasn’t summer in November.
Brian was gorgeous all the same, though. Even right now, dark eyebrows drawn together, eyes heavy with something and jaw more chiseled than usual, meaning he was clenching it.
Crap. Was he angry at me?
“Hey. What’s up?” I greeted him, keeping my voice unknowing just in case I was reading him wrong, which could’ve been the case. I hadn’t known Brian all that long. I didn’t know all of his tells. “Is Syd okay?”
Brian jerked his chin, indicating she was fine. “Got a sec?” he asked.
What in the heck was this?
“Uh … sure, yeah, of course.” I stepped back and held the door open for him, letting go and backing into the living room as Brian entered the house.
My heart was back to pouting, head lowered as it kicked at the ground.
I really thought it was Jamie.
I pulled my shirt down so the hem touched the front of my thighs over my leggings. My fingers curled under the well-loved material and glued there. I didn’t want to fidget, but I knew if I let go, I would.
This was weird. Really weird. Brian never came over without Syd.
“What’s going on?” I asked him.
Arms crossed over his wide chest as he stood inside my entryway, Brian stared at me. His face was serious. His eyes were hard. His chest was heaving slowly as he kept staring and not speaking for another breath, then another …
“Brian, you’re seriously freaking me out,” I told him. “What is it?”
“You and Jamie,” he began gruffly, and I felt my stomach drop out.
Oh, God …
I should’ve taken that box of Pop-Tarts upstairs, crawled into bed, and hibernated for the winter.
“The two of you, that ain’t my business,” he went on. “Don’t want it to be my business. Don’t ask about it. What you got going on, that’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Um, okay,” I replied hesitantly.
I had no idea where this was going.
“That being said, Jamie’s like my brother. If he gets with his girl and he’s happy, I’m happy for him. If something happens with his girl and that shit starts affecting him unlike anything I’ve ever seen, causing him to slip up and stop performing at the level of talent that idiot was fucking born with, I’m gonna ask about it. I asked. That’s why I’m here.”
“Um.” I squinted, hearing his words and tilting my head. “What do you mean, causing him to slip up?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
“San Diego last weekend. Did you hear how he placed?”
I shook my head.
I knew Jamie had a competition in San Diego. I was wanting to go with him, but with my dad’s health and the fact that he wasn’t one hundred percent out of the woods yet, I felt that this wasn’t the right time to leave the state. I wanted to be close.