Page 23 of A Man To Remember (Skin on Skin #3)

AUSTIN

IT ISN'T THE perfect day for walking. No sun ray in sight, gray sky crying tiny tears, air so dense you can drink it. But it is my day off and I have the time, so I walk, my umbrella flipping inside out in the wind, all the way from my place to McAlbert's.

It's not even that wild of a concept that they're open ten years later.

The coffee has always been great, best in the city, and all I can hope for is that it still tastes at least half as good.

Of course this time, we won't share a single cup and maybe even get some pastries to go with it, now that we no longer live on a prayer.

I look around as I walk, taking in the sights both familiar and strangely different at the same time. Everything's just as gray as I remember. And I do remember, even though I spent the past ten years trying to forget.

The philharmonic building is still majestic, rising tall above the surrounding, much smaller buildings. The shopping mall is still where it used to be, the park only safe to walk through during daytime.

None of these are on the way from my place to McAlbert's. I'm taking a detour. Because I do have the time and because that sad, melancholic part of me wants to see it again.

I walk three more blocks until I reach it. A giant, square brick of a building that still haunts me on occasion. Our high school.

I slow down as I pass it and hang my head low, eyes darting to the side to see without raising the alarm that would come from a grown ass man ogling a school building.

Not much is different from the outside. A new paint job, maybe. Some new doors. Some baby trees planted in the green area outside.

But the few students milling around the entrance, laughing and vaping, are not what they used to be. No longer scary. Mere kids, doing their kid stuff, blowing things out of proportion because those things are all they know for now.

Not much has changed, yet so much is different at the same time.

I reach McAlbert's some fifteen minutes later, shaking off my umbrella at the door. When I step inside, a familiar face is already waiting, lips already curling into the same wide smile I know so well.

"Well, fucking finally, Mr. Busy," Jamie greets me, rising up from his seat at a small table.

We fall into a long, firm bear hug, patting each other's backs like it's been decades. It hasn't. I haven't been in the city since I left for college, but Jamie has visited me multiple times. He's a better friend than I am.

"Good to see you, man," I say when we finally break apart. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. This whole week has been crazy."

When I look at Jamie properly, it's like I'm seeing him for the first time.

I've never thought Jamie and Jesse looked alike.

Not even remotely. Jesse's all golden hair and compact muscle, while Jamie's tall and sturdy with dark hair that never stays where he puts it.

But sitting here in the dim lighting of McAlbert's, I catch something I've somehow missed in all our years of friendship.

The eyes.

They have the same eyes. The same intense green that seems to see straight through whatever bullshit you're trying to sell them. How did I never notice that before?

Maybe because I've looked into Jamie's eyes a million times, but looking into Jesse's is new territory for me. Dangerous territory, apparently, considering how badly I want to get lost in them.

"Earth to Austin," Jamie says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. "You still with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

"About work?"

"Something like that."

He leans back in his chair, studying me with those familiar eyes. "So tell me everything. How's the shoot going? The club treating you well?"

I give him the condensed version—the models are professional, the venue is perfect for what I need, the lighting challenges are keeping me on my toes but nothing I can't handle. All true, technically.

I just leave out the part where his brother has been turning my world upside down on a daily basis. It just doesn't seem like my place, sharing that particular part.

"And Jesse?" Jamie asks, stirring sugar into his second cup of coffee. "He giving you a hard time? I know he can be pretty nosy."

My chest tightens at the mention of his name. First time Jesse's come up directly today, and I feel like I'm walking through a minefield.

"Not at all," I say, aiming for casual. "He's been... helpful."

Jamie raises an eyebrow. "Helpful how?"

"Just, you know. Making sure I have what I need. Checking in occasionally." I clear my throat. "And yeah, maybe a bit nosy, now that I think about it."

Jamie laughs. "That's my brother. Heart of gold, boundaries of tissue paper."

Heart of gold.

Yeah, I'm starting to see that.

"Actually," Jamie continues, "what was all the fuss about the other day? When Jesse finally called me back the next day, all he said was he needed to sleep some things off."

Shit.

I take a sip of coffee, buying time. I don't want to lie to Jamie—he's been my friend for too long, seen me through too much. But I also can't tell him the truth. Can't explain that his brother and I have been... whatever it is we've been doing.

"He called in sick to work," I say finally, sticking as close to the truth as possible. "When I tried to call, he didn't pick up. I thought maybe he needed something, so I decided to check on him."

All true.

"And?"

"And he didn't look great when he opened the door." Also true. "But he bounced right back. Good as new the next day."

Jamie nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. But there's something unsettling about the ease of this conversation. My loyalty has always been with Jamie, clear and uncomplicated. Now there's this other pull, this sense that I owe Jesse something too.

When did that happen?

"He seems to be doing really well though," I say, steering the conversation to safer ground. "It's one thing to hear about it from you all these years, another to see it with my own eyes."

Jamie's face lights up with pride, but then something shadowy crosses his features. "Yeah, he's... he's incredible. I'm so proud of him, you know? But the really fucked up part is..." His voice shales slightly. "Sometimes I'm scared too."

"Scared of what?"

"That one day he'll relapse and this whole bubble will burst." Jamie stares into his coffee cup like it holds answers. "And it's not fair to him, because he's been doing so well. Seven years, Austin. Seven fucking years. But I still wake up some mornings terrified I'm going to get a call..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.

Jamie's told me this before, multiple times over the years, but it's like I'm hearing it for the first time. Because this time, I'm actually listening. Now Jesse isn't just Jamie's brother, some abstract figure from the past, a figure I've spent ten years wishing out of existence.

He's real.

He's mine to worry about too, apparently.

The conversation shifts after that, flowing into easier territory. Work stories, updates on mutual friends, complaints about inflation and rent prices and the general state of the world. Jamie has always been easy to talk to, one of those people who make three hours feel like thirty minutes.

By the time we're splitting the check, several cups of coffee and way too many pieces of cheesecake later, it's already afternoon.

"This was good," Jamie says as we stand outside the coffee shop, pulling on jackets that smell like coffee and nostalgia. "Don't be such a stranger when you get back to Reno, okay?"

"I won't be."

"I mean it, Austin. You're like family."

Family.

The word sits heavy in my chest as we hug goodbye and part ways on the sidewalk. Jamie heads east toward the train station, and I start walking west, back toward my temporary apartment.

The rain has stopped while we were inside, leaving the streets washed clean and gleaming under the afternoon sunlight. The air smells like wet pavement and possibility.

As I walk back, my mind drifts to Jesse.

To the limited time we have together.

How much time have we already wasted? Ten years of it, gone because I was too angry to see past my own hurt. Ten years where we could have been... what? Friends? More than friends?

I don't want to waste any more.

I pull out my phone and do a quick Google search as I walk, checking hours and availability. Then I scroll to Jesse's contact.

Austin : Got some time today? I need to borrow you for a few.

The response comes back almost immediately.

Jesse : Consider me yours.

I smile.

Consider me yours.

If only it were that simple.