“Ethan,” I sat then, both of my hands reaching out for his. He held them tight, his teeth hard on his bottom lip as he stared at where our fingers met. “You are more than enough for me. Hell, I’m the lucky one trying to figure out what the hell it is you see in me.” I laughed and Ethan forced a smile, but it fell quickly. “I’m serious. Ethan, Jamie and I, we’re just friends.”
He nodded, sniffing, and I watched the cloud of air escape his lips with his next question. “Promise?”
A knife twisted in my heart, and I fought against it to smile. “I promise. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Ethan traced the skin of my palm with his thumb before pulling me closer. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head as he exhaled slowly. “Can you… I know you guys have a lot in common. But, I need you to just put me first a little more, okay? I need to feel more important than him. I know it sounds juvenile and needy but I don’t care. I can’t keep comparing myself to him in my head. I just want to look at you and see more in your eyes than I see when you look at him.”
I physically cringed then, shaking my head against his chest and tangling my hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “God, Ethan, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, you’re not doing anything wrong.” He pulled back then, his dark eyes finding mine. It was complete silence around us, a late Tuesday night on campus, a cold night that called for snuggling on couches, not on benches. “I just need a little reassurance sometimes. I—” he paused, as if he caught himself about to say something he’d regret. “You just mean a lot to me, okay? And I want to know if you feel the same.”
I smiled, framing his face with my hands and pulling his lips to mine. “I do.”
It occurred to me then that it didn’t matter that Jamie and I had made a promise to stay friends or that we’d kept it, not if our friendship was still strong enough to make my boyfriend feel like our relationship wasn’t.
When Ethan pulled me against his chest again, his fingers lazily running through my hair, I stared across campus toward the apartment where I knew Jamie was lying in bed. I didn’t know if he was alone. I didn’t know what he was thinking. I didn’t know if he was waxing his board or breathing seductive words against the neck of a girl he’d just met. I had no idea if he still thought about our kiss or if he’d hate the new lines I was about to draw in our friendship.
All I knew was that I couldn’t enjoy the spicy sweetness of rum if I was drinking it while still staring at a neat glass of Whiskey.
And so, I did what I needed to do.
I poured that last glass down the drain, twisted the cap on the bottle, and put it back on the shelf, locking the doors to the liquor cabinet up tight.
When I peeked back up at Ethan, he moved my hair aside before kissing me, soft and sweet, like coconut and strawberry. He was my Miami Vice, and he had my full attention.
For now.
Jamie didn’t really seem to notice me pulling away — at least, not at first. We just hung out a lot less and my texts were few and far between. But it worked out because I was busy with Ethan, and Jamie was busy with his flavors of the week.
What I started to discover as I spent more time with Ethan was that he really was serious about his political life plan. He was in full-on campaign mode, running for SGA Vice President since he was about to go into his junior year. And even though most of our newfound time together was spent designing and printing posters, running over speeches, and building a website complete with a booming social media campaign, I was enjoying it. I even helped run a few of his pizza stops on campus. He would hand out free pizza to hungry college students passing us between classes and I would talk to them about their vote, promising he was the best candidate and knowing in my heart it was true.
That’s what I loved most about Ethan — he was solid in his decisions. He had already made so many changes on campus in the year he’d been a class senator, and I knew if he did get the vice presidency, he would bring even more to the table. The girl he was running under as the presidential candidate was amazing, too. Her name was Shayla Hart and together they were the first black president and vice president nominee team. I wanted this win for them, and I could feel it — our campus did, too.
I was handing out the last of our HART|HAMILTON stickers on a Thursday afternoon when I got a text from Jamie that made my stomach drop.
— Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up. —
It was the first time since I’d pulled back that he didn’t ask me to hang out — he told me. And I knew before my fingers even moved over the keys on my phone that something was wrong.
— I’m with Ethan doing campaign stuff. Rain check? —
I shook my head, shoving my phone in my back pocket and slapping on my smile to hand out more stickers. The last one left my fingers just as my phone buzzed again. I tried to ignore it, asking Ethan if there was anything else he needed me to do, but he was deep in discussion with Amelia and simply kissed my forehead, saying I’d worked hard enough for the day and I should go home and get some rest. We were going to a bonfire that weekend, and I was definitely looking forward to a long night of sleep to recover from the campaign craziness.
Giving in, I grabbed my backpack from behind our booth and started the trek across campus to my dorm. I made it all of ten steps before my phone practically burned a hole in my pocket.
— Aren’t you almost done for the day? I can wait. Just take a drive with me. —
I thumbed out three different responses — all of them excuses, none of them strong enough to send — before I tucked my phone away again without responding at all. Maybe I could just ignore him. Maybe if I didn’t answer, he’d just let it go and find someone else to ride around with.
Even as I thought the words, I didn’t believe them.
I dropped my bag on my bed as soon as I got home and stripped my clothes off, aching for a shower. It was late February and I’d been told we were almost out of the “cold season”, but after standing outside in the mid-fifties with a pretty stiff windchill, I was ready for a hot shower.
I took my time, letting the water rush over my skin while trying not to think of how much I’d rather be soaking in a bath. When I made my way back to my room, towel wrapped around my body and my hair still tied in a shower wrap, my phone buzzed from inside my bag.
I had six missed calls, all from Jamie, and one lone text that changed my plans for the evening.
— I need you, B. Please. —
My gut wrenched so violently I bent at the waist, bracing myself with my hand before taking a seat on my bed, not really caring that my damp towel was surely leaving a mark.
I told myself not to respond, fake that I fell asleep, but I knew Jamie, and he’d never say he needed me when he truly didn’t. Something was wrong, and it was that feeling alone that let me not even think twice before sending a text back.
— See you in twenty. Lot G. —
Did you know whiskey in Gaelic means Water of Life?
I didn’t learn that little fact until later in life, but I remember thinking how magical whiskey must have been the first time those monks tasted it that they coined it with that terminology. It must have been life-altering. It must have made them pause, gasp, and declare that they could no longer live without it. After all, we can’t live without water, right?
I wish I would have known that before that night. Before I dressed in simple sweat pants and an oversized sweater, foregoing makeup and sneaking across campus to where I knew Jamie would be waiting. If I would have known, if someone had warned me, I might have been able to save myself from the precise moment my true addiction started.
Maybe.
I watched my breath in little puffs of white as I made my way toward Lot G. The lot was full, yet still I spotted Jamie immediately. He was leaned up against his Jeep, hood up and hands stuffed in the pocket of his navy blue Alder hoodie. He had gray sweat pants on, too, and I couldn’t deny the surge of comfort I felt when
I saw him.
He waited until I’d nearly reached him to lift his head, and the pain behind his eyes made me stop in place. Something was wrong, really wrong. I opened my mouth to say the first word, but was at a loss, so I closed it again. I stood there, waiting for his cue.
Jamie’s brows bent together as his eyes scanned me slowly. Then, he pushed off his Jeep in one swift move and his arms were around me. He dropped his head to mine, grip crushing, like he was gripping onto me as his last lifeline. My arms snaked around him hesitantly and I squeezed him in return, letting him feel that I was here. Jamie held me like that for what felt like hours. He didn’t speak, didn’t cry, just kept readjusting his grip around me, pulling me as close as he possibly could. I breathed in the scent of his cologne against his chest, smelling fall in Florida with a spicy mix of cedar.
“Jamie,” I breathed after a while, trying to pull back.
He sighed, the force of his breath moving my hair around it. “Not yet, okay?”
I nodded, face still against his chest, and he quickly pressed a kiss to my forehead before letting me go and motioning to the Jeep. He climbed in first, but my skin was burning from where his lips had touched it. My fingers rubbed the spot as I circled the Jeep before sliding into the passenger seat and buckling my seatbelt.
Jamie turned on his playlist and shot the volume up to seventeen before even putting us in drive. Andre Gagnon started off the soundtrack for the night, Like the First Day serving as a beautiful backdrop to a not-so-beautiful feeling building in my stomach.
It was different being in Jamie’s Jeep without the top down. All the windows were up and the heat was on low, making the music sound even louder than usual. But there were some things that never changed, like the way Jamie’s thumb just barely slid up and down the steering wheel, giving him away. Or how he cracked his neck quickly and quietly, just like he had in high school.
At first I sat rigid, waiting for Jamie to tell me what had happened, but after twenty minutes had passed without a word, I knew he needed time. So, I kicked off my boots and propped my sock-covered feet up on his dash. Jamie didn’t smile or turn down the music to talk, but he let out a long, slow exhale, and I knew in that moment that just me being beside him was setting him at ease.
That knowledge made my chest tingle.
It wouldn’t be much longer until the weather would even out again. Southern California was mild practically year-round, but I actually kind of enjoyed the cold front we were having. It was nice to cozy up, even if just for a few weeks.
We drove in that same pleasant silence we always found when we were together, enjoying his playlist and avoiding real life for a while. After an hour, I thought about reaching for the volume knob, but I didn’t have a cat joke this time. I didn’t have the right words to tackle what Jamie had on his mind. This time, I’d have to wait for him, and I was okay with waiting all night if he needed me to. I guess I should have been thinking about Ethan, wondering if he would find out, if he would be mad — and in a way I did worry about those things. But it wasn’t enough to keep me from Jamie when I knew he needed me.
Two hours passed faster than I thought they could. It was easy with great music and new sights. Jamie didn’t seem to have any destination in mind as he cruised the streets of San Diego. We drove slowly through Mission Valley and Pacific Beach before winding up through Bird Rock toward La Jolla. Eventually we both rolled our windows down, me hanging my hand out the window and surfing the air waves as the heat still blasted high enough to keep me from freezing.
I was in a daze, lulled by the music and the steady hum of the engine when I realized we were slowing down. Jamie pulled into a parking space on the side of a street and I could smell the salt of the ocean. He didn’t speak, just cut the engine before hopping out and grabbing a large bag from the back. I rolled out after him, following his steps without a word.
He wound us through a few small houses and a grove before walking onto a secluded little beach. It couldn’t have been more than two-hundred feet in length, half that in width between the grove and the water. There were a few lights on in the houses off in the distance, but nothing on the beach itself. It was just us, the sand, the water, and the moon.
Jamie dropped the bag he had in the sand and pulled out a thick woven blanket, spreading it out on the beach. He sat down without hesitating and looked up at me, pulling a second blanket out and patting the spot next to him. I tugged my boots off again, falling down next to him, and he covered us both with the spare blanket. It had to be in the low fifties now, maybe high forties, but with the layers of clothes we were wearing and the blankets, it wasn’t so bad.
I leaned back on my palms, watching as the gentle waves rolled in and waiting for Jamie to speak. He seemed to be waiting for something, too — a sign, maybe — but eventually, he sighed, long and slow, and broke the silence.
“What would you do if everything you had planned for your future went up in flames and there was nothing you could do about it?”
I shifted on my hands, uneasy at the loaded question. “Find a new future, I suppose.”
“What if there wasn’t one?”
Leaning up, I hugged my thighs to my chest and leaned my cheek on my knees. “What’s going on, Jamie?”
He swallowed, the motion visible in the shadow the moon was casting off his jaw. I couldn’t shake how tired his eyes looked, how sad, how defeated. Jamie was sitting there, right beside me, yet he seemed so far away.
“Things have been hard, you know? I mean, we’re in college, but we’re not too dumb to see how the economy is suffering right now. But I never thought it would directly affect me. I think we’re at that age where we just feel invincible, like nothing can touch us, but it can.” He shook his head, picking at the strings on the edge of our blanket. “My dad’s firm is going under. It’s going fast. And I’m here, in California, in fucking college, powerless to do anything to save it and yet depending on it all the same.”
My hand moved of its own accord, reaching out for his. He turned his palm up to meet me and the moment my hand slid into his, he gripped it tight, just like he’d held me in the parking lot. Jamie held onto everything fiercely and unapologetically that night.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad,” he croaked. His hand squeezed and I moved closer, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“But is there a chance it’ll be okay?”
He shrugged. “I guess there’s always a chance.”
“So focus on that,” I said, my eyes on the waves as I breathed in his scent. “Jamie, your father built that firm. It’s been a part of him since he was twenty-six years old. He’s put blood, sweat, and tears into it. Do you think a little recession is going to kill his dream? His baby?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “No way. Because the Shaw’s are fighters. When you see something you want — truly want — you go after it. All of you. And your dad is going to find a way to keep the firm alive. There is no other option for him.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jamie argued, free hand still picking at the blanket. “There’s less of a need for high-end accountants when businesses are tanking. The few clients they have left are seeking out cheaper options, if not battling their own demise.”
“Okay, but this recession isn’t going to last forever. If your dad can just hold on—”
“And what if he doesn’t, B?” Jamie turned to me then, frustration in his voice. “What then?”
“Then he starts over, Jamie.” I sat up straighter, facing him, too. “And so do you. And you figure it out. Because that’s what life’s about. It’s about paddling out and fighting the waves until you find the perfect one to ride home on.”
“I don’t know if I could start over,” he said dejectedly. The brokenness in his voice was enough to make me move until I was positioned right in front of him, forcing him to look at me. I was so used to seeing Jamie carefree, surfing or driving his Jeep or charming the panties off of every blonde on campus. It was rare to catch
him in a moment like this, and I wanted to bring the real Jamie back to the surface.
“Don’t you remember what I told you Christmas Eve when we were in high school?” The line between his brows eased at that, and he nodded. “I meant it then, I mean it even more now. You’re only a sophomore in college and already you’ve done two internships and started preparing for your Certified Public Accountant examination, which you don’t even need to think about until grad school. You’re acing your classes and building a network by attending all those fancy events downtown. You’re doing it, Jamie. You’re making your own dreams come true, just like your dad did. This recession will pass, and you’ll come out on top no matter what because that’s just who you are.”
He was nodding along with me, bottom lip sucked tight between his teeth and eyes on where my hands had wrapped around his. “You’re right. I can do this.”
“You can,” I said, squeezing his hands.
He looked at me then and his nose flared. “I’m not going to lie and say that I’m not scared, but I believe you when you say I can do it. I believe you when you say it will be okay.”
“Good. Because I’m right, like, ninety-seven percent of the time.”
He cracked the smallest smile at my lame attempt at a joke. There he is, I thought. There’s my Jamie.
“I think I’m going to go home this summer, try to help my dad turn it around.”
“You should. It’d be a great experience for you and I know your dad would love having you around.”
“Would you come with me?”
His question knocked the breath from my chest, as if I’d forgotten I was alone on a dark beach with him until that exact moment. I pulled my hands from his and tucked them in my lap. “I don’t know what my plans are for the summer yet. But you’ll be fine without me.”
Never Let Go: Top Shelf Romance Collection 6 Page 11