by A. J. Pine
Jamie shrugged. “It’s not like I was some big pothead. And you for sure weren’t, so…I don’t know. No biggie.” He paused. “It’s something we don’t do together now, so why does this matter?”
Brynn’s lips pursed into a small pout. Why did it matter?
“It doesn’t,” she said. “I guess I’m just learning there’s stuff I don’t know about you, James. I never took you for a man of mystery, but maybe I was wrong.”
Jamie adjusted his hat, pulling the bill down lower, but it did nothing to hide his raised brows, and Brynn wondered if he liked the idea of her seeing him like this—a man with a secret or two up his sleeve. And though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, the answer was yes. She kind of did like seeing him this way, like a part of the lens she looked through had always been smudged, and only now was she starting to clean it off and see what had been blocked from view.
Right now it was not-a-pothead Jamie, but who knew what else lurked beneath that lowered bill? She had several days to find out.
…
Shit, Jamie thought. He should have told her about Liz, well, that there was no Liz. Maybe he should right now. She was already being all weird about the smoking in college thing. He reasoned she’d move beyond weird if she found out he was flat-out lying to her about something. He never lied to Brynn—unless he counted that whole year in high school he was punch-drunk in love with her but never said a word. Or when he finally had the balls to kiss her and then told her he couldn’t be with her after his parents split. But that wasn’t really a lie—at the time he needed her friendship to get through it all, and he couldn’t chance losing her. The full truth was he feared loving her and watching whatever ate away at his parents’ relationship do the same to them. He kissed Brynn and awakened something in her he couldn’t believe was there, and then he ended things before they had a chance to start. He loved her more than air that day he shut her down, but he never let her know.
Maybe he hadn’t thought this through the right way—what it would do if she didn’t pick him. The bravado he had when he proposed the trip to Brynn was starting to be overshadowed by the voice inside his head that began asking what the hell he thought he was doing.
You’re bringing her to another guy, dipshit. Some grand plan you put together.
“Fuck off,” Jamie said to himself under his breath.
“What?” Brynn asked.
“Huh? Oh, nothing. I think this is where we get off…our exit, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “You wanted to see the arch, right?”
Her eyes lit up, and suddenly that asshole voice of reason was squashed like a bug. How could he question what he was doing when he was going to be the one to experience this with her? No one else. Whatever happened at the end of this trip, they’d have these days together, an experience that couldn’t be replicated. It was all just a matter of timing now. Walking in on the girl he loved straddling another guy? Epically bad timing. But somewhere in these next several days, he’d get it right. If he didn’t, then he deserved what waited for him at the end of this trip—letting her go. But it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. Not this time.
Chapter Eight
Maybe it was the fact that they were a few hours south, or maybe it was just the mood of the early afternoon, but the sun was warm on Brynn’s face when she stepped out of the truck. Eyes closed, she tilted her head up to the sky and let the heat soak into her skin. She took off her coat but kept the scarf. Jamie, who never seemed to get cold, wore only the hoodie and a T-shirt underneath, so he left that on. He met her on her side of the vehicle and smiled.
“What?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I like seeing you excited about something.”
Could he feel the energy brimming inside her? Because she was excited. She could have let her chance with Spencer pass her by—thrown her hands in the air and said Forget it—again. She could have stayed mad, blamed that night on Jamie. But that wasn’t fair. After all, it was his office, and Jamie was never one for big parties. Of course he’d want to hide out at some point that evening. Maybe if she’d had a little less to drink, she would have taken Spencer someplace less likely to be invaded. But she’d been tipsy, so she hadn’t been logical, and what happened, happened. This time she wasn’t going to make excuses. She was going after what she wanted, like she used to, before rejection by the person she trusted most took away her confidence to do so.
Spencer hadn’t rejected her. They just had bad timing. Twice. And really, it all worked out in the end. She still had her best friend, and now she had not a second but a third chance to see, once and for all, if Spencer was the guy—the one that got away.
Yeah. Brynn was excited about something.
Then she looked up, and her smile quickly faded.
“B?” Jamie asked, but she didn’t answer.
It wasn’t that she didn’t hear him, but her palms grew as sweaty as her mouth was dry. She cleared her throat and tried to swallow. Were her tonsils swelling?
“B?” This time he waved his hand in front of her face. She blinked and focused on him rather than the monstrosity they were about to approach.
“It’s—high,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
Jamie laughed. “Uh, yeah. Pretty sure I read it’s the highest man-made monument in the nation. Six hundred thirty feet at the top.”
She lost her footing and staggered back until she bumped the passenger door. So much for smooth sailing.
Jamie shook his head. “Uh-uh. You are not afraid of heights, Brynn Chandler. Your family went to Florida every winter throughout middle school and high school. You’ve been on a plane more times than I can count.”
She nodded. He was right, so she could understand his logic. But he’d never been with her on one of those planes.
“Dramamine,” she said, finding her voice again.
Jamie’s gaze went from the Arch back to her. “What?”
“Dramamine,” she said again, this time louder and more insistent. “I took Dramamine before every single flight.”
“Since when do you get motion sickness?”
She shook her head.
“I took Dramamine because it made me drowsy. I always fell asleep before takeoff.”
Jamie flipped his baseball hat backward and crossed his arms over his chest. God he looked so young like that, like the guy who dragged her to countless Sox games when they were teens, when his dad had season tickets. After his parents split, Jamie stopped going to the ballpark, but he never stopped loving his team.
“Are you going to lecture me?” she asked, trying to reconcile his boyish look with his authoritative stance.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You’ve never actually experienced a flight. You slept through them all?”
She nodded.
“Because you’re afraid of heights.”
Brynn nodded again.
“But how do you know you’re afraid of heights if you’ve never been conscious in the air?”
Well, putting it that way, it did sound a little ridiculous, and she hated sounding ridiculous.
“See? This is why you never knew. You can’t logic your way out of a fear, Jamie. It’s not like it kept me from living my life. I found my way around it through simple, over-the-counter medication. Problem solved.”
He raised his brows.
“What about that?” He pointed to the Arch, and Brynn’s gaze followed his outstretched arm.
Her knees buckled, but she righted herself just as Jamie reached for her.
“Forget it,” he said. “We’re not going up.”
“Yes we are,” she countered, her voice emitting the hint of a tremble.
Jamie was holding her now. Somehow she hadn’t realized this.
“Told you I’d always catch you,” he whispered in her ear. “You don’t have to do this. We came. We saw. We can get back on the road.”
But Brynn pushed him away. She brushed out nonexistent wrinkles from her jeans and mustered up as muc
h conviction as she could.
I don’t need saving. She could save herself from her fear.
“You’re right,” she said. “I never experienced those flights because I let the fear win. I let the possibility of Spencer slip away senior year because I was scared that missing the party meant I missed my chance.” She stepped away from the truck and passed Jamie. Then she turned to face him. “I need to stop using fear as an excuse.”
She’d played it safe for ten years. When she applied and got into her safety school, she went without question. When Annie opened the store and offered her a job, Brynn didn’t care that she could make more money working for a big firm. The bookstore was safe. Working with Annie was safe. And when she needed a plus-one for a wedding, she always brought Jamie rather than going it alone. Enough was enough already. She could take this step, stare down one of her fears all by herself. Or with Jamie by her side, but it would still be her doing. Not his.
“Don’t you get it?” she asked. “If I can do this, without the help of over-the-counter drugs, I might add, I’m that much closer to doing—other things.”
She let out a long, slow exhale. Maybe she had inadvertently kept this little phobia from him. But it wasn’t her fear of heights taking center stage. This was all a prelude to a kiss, one she’d convinced herself would make all the difference.
Jamie took a step toward her, his exasperation melting into something softer.
“You’re scared,” he said, realization in his voice, and Brynn knew he understood. “This trip scares you.”
She sighed, relief washing over her.
“God, yes.” She laughed now, grateful that she wouldn’t have to hold this in all week. “I’m driving across the country because of a kiss. One that didn’t even happen. Twice. That’s insane. But doing nothing would be worse. I don’t want to wonder what might have happened or to regret not finding out. Even if this trip doesn’t end how I want it to, I won’t have to wonder anymore.”
She twisted a curl around her finger, and Jamie smiled. He tugged at one of her spirals, too, making her laugh. Then he turned, walked back to the truck, and reached into his bag. When he returned he was holding something silver in his hand.
“What’s a beer man doing with a flask?” she asked.
“Best man gift from Ben’s wedding.”
Ah, yes. Now she remembered. Both of Jamie’s brothers were married now, leaving the baby of the family the last bachelor standing.
“Still doesn’t answer my question.”
He unscrewed the top. “Well, I figured we might need to toast something at some point. Didn’t realize it would be this early, but here goes.” Jamie held up the flask. “To saying fuck you to fear and going after what we want.” He took a swig and handed it to her.
Brynn smiled. Leave it to Jamie to know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it.
“Fuck you, fear!” She brought the flask to her lips, knowing what was inside. The Jack Daniels burned hot as it traveled down her throat, but she welcomed the sensation. “Wait,” she said, handing the flask back to him. “You drove with this? Isn’t that…?”
Jamie cut her off, producing a miniature bottle of the whiskey from his pocket. An empty miniature bottle.
“No open alcohol in the vehicle.” He smiled. “I work in a brewery. I know my alcohol laws. Missouri, by the way, not so strict. Not that it will matter because I’m assuming we just finished what little we had.”
Brynn shook the flask and confirmed his guess.
“You’re full of surprises today, Mr. Kingston.”
He took the flask from her, capped it, and tossed it back in the truck.
“Maybe I’m just prepared,” he said when he was by her side again.
“Such a boy scout.”
He raised a brow. “Not sure they give badges for bringing alcohol on a road trip.”
Brynn laughed, the adrenaline mixed with the shot making her feel light and giddy and ready to take on a six-hundred-thirty-foot monument. Maybe. She hoped.
“Thank you,” she said, then kissed her friend on the cheek. She may have lingered for an extra second or two, taking in his scent. “David Beckham?” she asked, her Christmas gift to him in 2012.
He shook his head.
“Justin Bieber?”
He laughed. “Wrong again.”
“Which one is it?” She couldn’t place the celebrity scent, but whoever it was—Antonio Banderas, maybe—suited him. He smelled good…and somehow familiar. Even after four-plus hours on the road.
The alcohol must have been getting to her. One shot could do that, right?
“It’s just me,” he said. “Showered, shaved, and out the door. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Huh,” she said as they started walking. “Just you. Me, too,” she added. “Just me.”
Brynn watched the smile move along Jamie’s profile. And though she didn’t say it out loud, she allowed herself the thought.
No need to apologize. I’m not disappointed at all.
Chapter Nine
Fuck you, fear. How about, Fuck you, Jamie the hypocrite? Because toasting to their fears—or to staring them in the face, that would be the perfect time to throw in, By the way, I broke up with Liz because I’ve loved you since I was sixteen.
But he didn’t say that. He let Brynn think the moment was all about her, and maybe that was okay. She needed this, and she needed him to help her through it. To drop the bomb on her now would be to steal her thunder. There was no rush. Heck, he’d been holding it in for eleven years. He would find a way to ease into telling her how he felt. After all, hadn’t he learned his lesson from the reunion? Surprising Brynn when she was drunk was not the way to go. Not that she was actually drunk right now, but the speed with which she walked—and talked—made it clear that Brynn was under the influence of something. Blame it on the alcohol, the setting, the adrenaline most definitely coursing through her veins, but she was on a mission, and he was not about to derail said mission for his own selfish gain.
Besides, didn’t he want her to choose him of her own free will? Placing his cards on the table now would only put her on the spot, and that wasn’t how this was supposed to go down.
“You’re totally right,” she was saying as they trekked toward the entrance. “I slept through my fear. Like, literally. And you know how much I hate when people use the word literally…but, Jamie…” She shook her purse, a large bag slung cross-body down her torso.
He had to focus on what she was saying and not on how the strap bisected her, pressing firm in the spot between her breasts, accenting both as her sweater pulled against them. God, couldn’t she adjust her scarf or something?
“I’ve got some right here. Literally!” she continued, and he forcibly cleared his throat, then shook his head so he focused on the right here of the purse she was shaking and not the right here of the place where his eyes were naturally drawn. “If I popped one of these suckers, I’d be out in twenty minutes. Tops. In fact…” She stopped midstride, unzipped the bag, and rummaged through it until her hand emerged with a small cylinder of the motion-sickness pills. “I’m entrusting these to you, in case I want to bail on the whole experience before we’re halfway up. Even if I freak out, don’t let me have one of these unless you want to carry me to the truck afterward.”
Jamie laughed, but Brynn’s face was intent, brows raised in earnest. She was dead serious.
“Are you going to have a panic attack or something? Maybe we should rethink this. I mean, I’m all for conquering your fears, but this seems like a giant leap where you maybe should take baby steps.”
She grabbed his wrist and placed the tube of pills in his palm, curling his fingers tight around it. Her hand was warm, fever hot, even, and he knew what this was—Brynn on fire. Determined and headstrong, even if she was about to do something incredibly stupid. It brought him back ten years to when she was ready to attend that end-of-year party with a fever and glands so swollen she couldn’t swallow without
tears spilling from her eyes. And then he’d kissed her and messed everything up, almost ruining their friendship when he needed her most. It was hard not to feel like he was to blame for some of the fire going out of her, and damn if he didn’t love seeing it now. Even if it meant he risked being trapped with her, and a couple of strangers, six hundred thirty feet above the ground with the possibility of a major freak-out.
“I’m twenty-seven, Jamie. Twenty-seven and stuck. I need something bigger than baby steps.”
He nodded because, whether she knew it or not, she was talking about both of them. Jamie thought he’d moved on these past ten years. He’d dated plenty, and a couple of times he came really close to falling in love. But close wasn’t a step in the right direction. He hadn’t moved forward at all. Only sideways. And now his path intersected with hers again.
“Bigger than baby steps.” He echoed her words and slid the Dramamine into his pocket. “If things get ugly up there, just remember that I’m with you. I will never let you fall.”
Brynn took in a long breath, then let it out, slow and controlled. He knew she was preparing herself for the giant leap she was about to take.
“I know,” she said, her voice soft with recognition. “I know.”
Then she bounced onto her toes, spun his baseball hat around, and tugged the bill down over his eyes. There was something intimate as well as silly about the gesture, but it meant she was standing close enough for him to catch her scent. Among the dewy grass and earthy aroma of wet, fallen leaves, there it was. A mixture of coconut from her hair and the eucalyptus body wash he knew she loved. He loved it, too. No celebrity scent to cover what didn’t need covering. Just her, Brynn, his Sleepy Jean.
But she was wide awake and ready to take on the world, and he let the sweet smell of her wake up his senses, too.