Hit the Spot

by J. Daniels

  I wanted to stay angry. And for the first three or four days, I did. I was pissed. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to talk to him. I couldn’t believe how heartless he had been. How cold and unapologetic. Not caring how I felt about that interview. Not giving a damn how hurt I was. That didn’t matter to Jamie. He wasn’t sorry. In his eyes, I was overreacting and getting emotional over something stupid.

  He didn’t get it. He didn’t get what being claimed by him meant to me.

  Everything. God, it meant everything.

  I’m not crazy. I understood his point—Jamie didn’t like getting personal in those interviews. He was there to talk about surfing. That was it.

  I got that.

  But I really thought he would at least mention something about us, anything about us, when prompted, and when I saw that he hadn’t, I wasn’t just surprised, I was hurt. Deep in my heart, I felt that.

  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.

  “He didn’t,” Brian informed me. “Didn’t even break top ten.”

  I felt my eyes go round. Jamie didn’t even break top ten? What? That couldn’t be right. He always broke top ten. He was number one. He couldn’t be beat.

  “Yeah,” Brian mumbled, seeing my reaction. His brows lifted. “That’s never happened before. Even when Jamie was first starting out, he always placed. His head isn’t in it.”

  I stared at Brian as a knot formed in my stomach. I could feel myself getting upset. Was he trying to make me feel bad? Like I was to blame for Jamie not placing? Why was this all my fault?

  “So you know what happened then,” I said to verify.

  “Yep.”

  “He told you everything.”

  Brian shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  “Did he tell you he’s the one who acted like he didn’t care?” My voice grew louder, hiding my pain. “That when I told Jamie how I felt about that interview, about him not mentioning anything about me or us, he made me feel stupid for feeling that way? I was hurt, Brian. I was hurt and he didn’t give a damn about it. I may have walked out, but he hasn’t done anything to try and fix this. He hasn’t called. He hasn’t come here.”

  “What have you been doing?” he asked.

  My lips pressed tightly together. Brian cocked his head, eyes all-knowing.

  Damn it.

  “He didn’t claim me,” I argued. My face was hot. I could feel my flush creeping down my neck. “I was upset! I’ve been upset.”

  “What’d he tell you about those intervi
ews?” Brian asked. “He say anything?”

  “Yeah. He said he didn’t answer personal questions. And maybe that’s true, but—”

  “Not maybe,” Brian interrupted. His voice was somber. I watched him reach into his back pocket and produce folded-up pages that looked to be torn out of a magazine. He held them out for me to take. “Here.”

  Brow furrowed, I hesitated briefly, letting my hand hover in the air before reaching out and taking them. I unfolded the pages and pulled them apart. There were three. Different issues of the same magazine. Rail. These were Jamie’s interviews.

  “He never said anything different, Tori,” Brian said as I found the question and word-for-word answer he was referring to. The same ‘no comment’ answer I read nine days ago. “Jamie does those interviews ’cause he knows it’ll draw attention to Wax. It’s not about him. Yeah, he talks about what surfing means to him, why he loves it, but if you read those articles, Jamie is always putting emphasis on the sport, not him. And he name-drops Wax every chance he gets. That’s the kinda guy he is. He could be like everybody else and talk all kinds of shit about himself, brag, do it for the attention, but he doesn’t. And those dickheads at Rail and every other magazine that’s interviewed him, they tell him, flat out, the questions are gonna be geared toward surfing. They know not to ask him personal shit. He makes that clear before he even sits down. So when they go there, every fuckin’ time he gives them the only answer he can give without telling them to fuck off. He’s never said anything different. He never will.”

  I look up then, lips parting, my breaths coming out short and quick.

  “It’s not about you and him. Not in those interviews,” Brian continued, holding my gaze. “Jamie’s told you how he feels. That’s what matters to him. You knowin’. Your friends, your family, the people you care about. All of us. Christ, we all sure as fuck know. His family. Mine. Everybody in his life, babe. He’s never been quiet about it. And to the people that matter, he never fuckin’ will be. You just gotta decide if that’s enough for you.”

  A dull pain shot through my chest.

  It was enough. I was never Jamie’s secret. All of the people we cared about knew. Everyone in my life and in his. Jamie’s family, he’d told them all about me. His sister and his brother. He claimed me to them before I was even allowing myself to admit I wanted this as much as he did. They mattered. And Brian and Syd, my family, they were who mattered and God, I was so, so stupid.

  I blinked several times as tears filled my eyes.

  “He knows you were hurtin’, babe,” Brian shared, keeping his voice gentle now. “He wasn’t gettin’ it at the time, but you women gotta give us a break. We can be pretty fuckin’ stupid when it comes to you.”

  A laugh bubbled in my throat. I brought my fingers to my lips.

  “You gotta know, this is killing him. He’s hurtin’, too. I probably wouldn’t be stepping in if it wasn’t for him not placing, but Jamie’s always had my back. Always will. Never need to ask him to have it, he just does. He’s a good man, Tori.”

  “I know that,” I whispered, letting my hand skim my throat as my tears started to fall.

  He was the best man. The best. And he was mine. I had him.

  “I messed up, Brian,” I whispered. “I…I shouldn’t have left him. I shouldn’t have blown up like that.”

  “Yeah, well…” Brian drew his arms across his chest again. “His ass shouldn’t have let you leave. And he should’ve been comin’ over here already, but he’s stubborn as shit. Swear to God, he’s fuckin’ miserable, though. I can’t take it.”

  I didn’t want Jamie miserable. I couldn’t even imagine it. He was always smiling. Whenever I saw him, he was sweet dimples and mischief behind the smuggest, most perfect grin I’d ever seen.

  And I was woman enough to admit when enough was enough. We were both at fault in this. I didn’t need him to come to me. He always came to me. Maybe it was my turn…

  “Is he home right now? Or is he at the shop?” My voice raced with a nervous energy. I pressed the torn pages against my chest and stepped closer, nearly begging, “Do you know where is?”

  Brian’s mouth lifted in the corner after hearing me, which I thought was a little strange but I didn’t have a chance to tell him that.

  “It’s Sunday. Where do you think he is?” Brian asked, shoulders lifting casually. Then the other half of his mouth curled up and he gave me that before turning around and stepping outside. The door shut behind him.

  I blinked, sniffled, and wiped at my face.

  It was Sunday. Sunday was family dinner. I knew that. And Jamie never missed one of those, not unless he was away and Brian would have told me if he was.

  My stomach tensed and warmed all over. My skin tingled. I was so close to making this right. To getting my guy back. I couldn’t help it, I smiled. My first smile in nine days.

  I knew it. We weren’t going to make it to ten.

  Realizing where I was headed, I folded those torn pages back up, set them on the table Jamie had replaced for me, and immediately got to work in the kitchen.

  Never in my life would I ever show up to family dinner without a dish.

  * * *

  Using my elbow since my hands were full, I rang the doorbell at Brian and Syd’s place and stood on the porch, waiting. The November air cooled my cheeks.

  I needed that. I was nervous. Freaking out, if I was being honest. My smile was long gone. I had no idea how Jamie was going to receive me. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t done everything in my power to appear ready for this.

  I was completely dolled up, wearing full makeup, my hair curled more than usual and styled in a twist so it was half pulled back, and one of my cutest outfits—an oversized cable knit sweater, leggings, which weren’t cute but I knew how Jamie felt about them, and my brown knee-high boots that had a substantial heel.

  I never dressed this fancy coming over here. It was Sunday dinner. We were all just hanging out. I’d even wear my uniform sometimes if I was coming straight from work.

  But it had been nine days. Nine. Days.

  Nine days called for fancy.

  I had parked behind Jamie’s Jeep, so I knew he was here, and being this close to him, this close to possibly fixing things and making things right, was causing my stomach to flip-flop and my heart to batter and the pulse point in my throat to pound.

  I was fine back at the house getting ready and on the drive over here, but now, all of a sudden, standing on this porch, I was terrified. What if I couldn’t fix this? What if it was too late? It had been nine days. Nine days of me not going to him. What if Jamie didn’t want to hear me out now? Brian said he was miserable, but what if he was angry, too?

  The door swung open just as panic soaked into my bones and settled.

  Syd filled the doorway. She tilted her head with a soft smile and reached out her hand.

  “Hey, sweetie. Come on in. You’re just in time,” She pulled me inside the house and reached around me to close the door. I looked around.

  We were the only ones in the living room. Voices were coming from the kitchen. I assumed dinner had either started already or was just about to start.

  Stepping closer, her fingers wrapped around my elbow. “He’s going to be so happy to see you,” Syd leaned in to say.

  I felt my stomach clench as a lump formed in my throat. “I don’t know,” I whispered my worry, looking into my best girl’s eyes as I felt that panic sink deeper and deeper until it folded in around my heart and saturated it. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if it’s too late?”

  She gave my elbow a squeeze. Her eyes were gentle.

  “It won’t be. He loves you,” she stated. “He’s loved you forever.”

  Instantly, in that second, I broke down. My head fell forward and I began quietly sobbing, mindful of the pie in my hands.

  It had been nearly a year, not forever, and I knew Jamie hadn’t loved me for the whole thing, but hearing forever got me thinking about h
ow long I’d fought him. How much time I’d wasted and how much of it I’d ruined and those nine stupid days.

  Our love felt like a forever’s worth. A lifetime.

  And I couldn’t stop overreacting and messing things up.

  “Shh, Tori, it’s okay,” Syd tried to sooth me, moving her hand to my back and rubbing there. “That pie looks really good. Is it strawberry rhubarb?”

  I nodded as my shoulders quaked, keeping my head down and my eyes shut. “I think Jamie really likes it,” I whimpered. “He ate a lot of it before.”

  “Yeah? I think he does, too,” she replied, a smile in her voice. “Right, Jamie? You like strawberry rhubarb, don’t you?”

  A sob caught in my throat. I trapped it there along with my breath, then I peeked my eyes open and slowly lifted my head to see everyone standing in the living room now, everyone except Shay, who had to work tonight. Our typical Sunday night crowd was here. They’d heard me and walked in from the kitchen.

  Brian and Jenna and her adorable twins, Oliver and Olivia. Kali and Cole, who was holding her son, Cameron, and looking really comfortable doing that, which I wanted to ask about but couldn’t think on at the moment. And Jamie. He was standing in front of me with his too-long hair and bright blue eyes and more shadow on his face than usual. He hadn’t shaved in days. Maybe nine. I wasn’t sure. And he was wearing dark layered Henley thermals and faded jeans, just like the first day I saw him.

  They were all looking at me with concern and curiosity, all except Jamie, who held questions in his eyes and that anger I feared, it was there. I could see it. And I was standing in front of him sobbing with a pie in my hand and half of my makeup running down my face.

  “Right. Let’s eat before the lasagna gets cold,” Brian suggested, his deep voice giving off a tone that said this wasn’t a suggestion. It needed to happen.

  “Momma, why is Ms. Tori crying?” Olivia asked her mother.

  “Liv, now. Let’s go,” Brian insisted.

  “She almost dropped her pie. Wouldn’t that have been terrible?” Syd threw out as an answer, walking toward the group and leaving me where I stood.

  Olivia’s eyes bugged out. She nodded quickly while everyone else wore faces saying they knew that wasn’t the reason. Everyone except Oliver, who had his eyes on the game in his hands, and Cameron, who was too little to pick up on that kind of stuff.