Page 13

Chapter 13

The one where Jeff puts Jamie first.

I’m sobbing uncontrollably as I drive to Lucy’s, the tears streaming down my face, hot and endless. I’m pretty sure there’s snot smeared all over me, but I can’t bring myself to care. Everything I’ve been holding in—every insecurity, every fear—bursts out of me all at once, overwhelming me.

When I finally pull into her apartment complex, I’m a complete mess. My chest feels raw, my throat aches, and my mind won’t stop racing, replaying every awful moment of the night like some cruel highlight reel. The way Jamie looked at me, like he didn’t trust me. Like I’d already let him down.

Did all of that really just happen?

My hands tremble as I fumble for my phone. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, then drag my jacket sleeve across my nose, trying to pull myself together. I take a shaky breath, but it does nothing to steady me.

I feel utterly wrecked.

Jeff : Something bad happened. Can I stay at your place?

Like a true champ, she was already typing.

Lucy : What???? Of fucking course you can, what happened?

Jeff : I'm out front.

I’m so grateful for Lucy. Once again, she’s here for me, pulling me out of my own mess. No matter the chaos I create, she always has my back. In this state of self-loathing, I’m not even sure I deserve someone as incredible as her. She feels like a goddamn angel.

The apartment door swings open, and Lucy bursts out, wearing pajama pants and a fuzzy robe, her bleach-blonde hair piled into a lopsided bun. Concern is etched across her face the moment she spots me.

“Dude, what’s going on?!” she asks, her eyes widening at my tear-streaked face.

Before I can respond, she wraps me in the warmest, tightest hug I’ve ever had. I rest my head on hers, clinging to her like a lifeline. I don’t have the words yet; I just need this. I need to be held.

“I’m guessing Jamie’s stay didn’t go as expected...” she says gently, her voice a soothing balm against my frayed nerves.

“No,” I mutter into her hair, my voice barely audible.

“Where is he?”

“He’s staying at my place until he leaves Sunday night.”

“Jeffrey... What the hell happened?!” she asks, pulling back and looking at me intently, her concern etched into every word.

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I follow her up to her apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Once we’re inside, I finally break. The dam bursts, and I tell her everything—the fights, the accusations, Jamie’s tears, the way he looked at me like I was nothing but a disappointment. I don’t hold back, the painful details spilling out as Lucy listens, her presence grounding me when I feel like I might unravel completely.

I spend two days on Lucy's couch, barely moving. New Year's Eve comes and goes in a blur. Jamie and I were supposed to celebrate together before he left for home, but instead, I spend the night alone, sprawled out on the couch. My mind is consumed with thoughts of him.

I wonder what Jamie did that night. I hope he went out, found something to take his mind off everything—something that made him feel better, something that helped him forget what a jerk I’ve been. I hope, somehow, he’s still managing to enjoy his trip to LA.

Lucy tries to drag me to a party, but I refuse to budge. All I want is to stay here, alone, drowning in my own misery. I don’t have the energy to talk to anyone, much less pretend like I’m fine. Lucy keeps trying to boost my confidence, to snap me out of this funk, but I can’t find it. I feel hollow, like a shadow of who I’m supposed to be.

I still feel like an asshole—a confused, selfish asshole who dragged the person I cared about most into something he didn’t deserve. He made it sound like he never believed I could be serious about him, like he regretted coming out here in the first place. Maybe that’s why he made that stupid hundred-dollar bet with me. The thought breaks my heart, and it’s all I can focus on—how badly I’ve treated everyone I’ve ever been in a relationship with.

Maybe I’m not relationship material. Maybe I don’t even know how to have a serious relationship.

By the time I glance at the clock, it’s nearly noon. Lucy must have stayed at her friend’s place last night. I sit up on the couch, my head pounding, and run my fingers through my hair. Stumbling into the kitchen, I decide it’s time to eat something. I make a sloppy peanut butter sandwich and force it down, even though I’m not hungry.

I still can’t believe I’ve lost Jamie. I’ve finally pushed him away, and now it’s over.

Despite my self-loathing and the constant replay of every stupid thing I’ve done to him, all I want is for Jamie to be happy. He deserves happiness. He deserves someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who isn’t a nervous wreck, someone who makes him feel secure instead of worried all the time.

I can’t shake the image of Jamie’s upset face that night, after Tiffany unloaded all that crap on him. He didn’t deserve any of it. He didn’t deserve what I put him through. I know now that the best thing I can do for Jamie is to stay away. It’s the only way he’ll ever be truly happy.

I’ve come to accept that I’m not the one who can give Jamie what he needs. That realization hits me hard, like a ton of bricks. Every time Lucy suggests I go back and talk to him, I dismiss the idea. Jamie made it clear he doesn’t want anything I have to offer. What’s the point? I don’t want to make things harder for him. He doesn’t deserve that.

I think back to picking Jamie up from the airport, to the way we talked in my apartment. I swore to him I hadn’t done anything with anyone else. I’d do anything for him, and right now, that means leaving him alone. For once, I’m not going to be selfish. This isn’t about what I want.

I feel so stupid about what happened in my bedroom.

It was all about me. Like a true idiot, I didn’t make a single move to focus on him. I barely even touched him before Tiffany banged on the door. Jamie was right—what was I even going to do? Honestly, I don’t know. It was all an act, me hoping I was doing the right thing.

Jamie deserves better than that. Jamie deserves better than me.

He’s told me so many times that he wants more than what I’ve been giving, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t even stop to think that my confusion-fueled decisions were messing with his head—because I’m an asshole. A selfish asshole.

Why didn’t I give his words more thought? Why did I let my dick do all the thinking? I wasn’t using my head at all. Jamie was so right about me. He does know me better than anyone else, after all.

He’s right...

I shake myself out of my spiraling thoughts and walk over to the sink to grab a glass of water. That’s when I hear my phone vibrate on the counter.

Lucy : I told James you've been crying on my couch for the past two days.

…What?! I start to type a reply, but before I can, another text from Lucy pops up.

Lucy : I'm at your place.

Jeff : Are you fucking kidding me? What are you doing????

Lucy : I'm helping. I'm going to help you, dude...

Jeff : You need to leave there NOW Lucy. Leave him the fuck alone!

Lucy : It's OK he's just packing his stuff. I'm going to give him a ride to the airport soon.

Tears well up in my eyes again, and I grit my teeth. Damn it, I can’t cry anymore.

Lucy : Hey...

Lucy : He found something of yours.

Lucy : Some diary or journal or something.. .

Damn... No.

I used to have a journal back in high school. Not a diary—a journal. Though, honestly, it was kind of a diary.

My thoughts race. What the hell was in there? Oh God, probably everything. Teenage nonsense, for sure. A few pages definitely filled with graphic ramblings about all the things I wanted to do with Jamie. And then there were probably a few others where I tried to sort out my feelings in a way that wouldn’t make sense to anyone reading them.

Most of it was about football games and the girls I’d been with, though.

I remember then that there’s an old picture of me and Jamie in there too, one I’d used as a bookmark. It’s from a football game we’d won together—Jamie’s arm slung around my shoulders, both of us sweaty and grinning like idiots. His short blonde hair’s a mess, there’s dirt streaked across his cheek, and I’ve got this stupid, cocky grin I thought was cool back then. I cringe just thinking about it.

I haven’t opened that journal in years. It’s probably full of embarrassing shit.

Maybe Jamie hadn’t opened it. Maybe he’d just come across it while packing. God, I could only hope…

Lucy : He said he read it all.

Fuck.

Lucy : He says he's sorry, that he read it... He says he knows you're probably pissed.

Lucy : He says he wants to say goodbye before he leaves for Nevada.

I stare at my screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard before I finally start typing.

Jeff : It's better if I don't see him.Trust me.

Lucy : Dude, he wants to see you...

Jeff : Iwant to see him too. It's not that. It's just better if I don't see him.

Tears well up again as I think about our argument in my apartment—what if that was the last time I ever see Jamie?

I know he was offering to see me for my sake, not because it was what he really wanted. Jamie was just trying to make sure I was okay before he left.

But I’m done with that.

This isn’t about me. I refuse to be the burden in Jamie’s life. He doesn’t have to do this for me.

Jeff : Tell him I said he can go.

Jeff : It doesn't matter.

Jeff : Tell him I said to stop thinking about it.

Jeff : Also, tell him he shouldn't have read that stupid fucking PRIVATE journal and yes, I'm pissed about it. What the hell???

Jeff : He should forget me and just go home.

Shit, my phone’s buzzing—it’s Lucy. The last thing I want to do is answer, but ignoring her isn’t an option. With a sigh, I swipe to pick up.

“Jeff, what’s wrong with you?!” she snaps, her words coming out fast and sharp. “Jamie wants to say goodbye before he leaves. He has plenty of time—”

“It’s not a good idea,” I interrupt. “He should just go. And you shouldn’t have fucking gone over there, Lucy! What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m helping,” she says, her voice firm. “Dude, he wants to see you—”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Jeff, that’s what he just told me. That’s what he’s telling me right now.”

“He wants to see me because he’s worried about me. He shouldn’t be. He needs to just leave.”

There’s a heavy silence on the other end. I try to steady my breathing, to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me, but it’s useless. The tears are already welling up, blurring my vision as I keep going.

“He needs to go home and forget about me, Lucy.” My voice cracks, and I hate how raw and exposed I sound. God, I’m so tired of crying. My jaw aches from clenching it, trying to hold back the flood. My eyes are puffy, my chest hollow—it’s like my body is running out of tears, but my heart isn’t done breaking.

“He’s wasting his time, and he doesn’t deserve this, Lucy. He needs to go home. He deserves so much more than me. He’ll be okay. He’ll find someone who will take care of him, who’ll make him feel secure. And loved. And special, like he fucking deserves. And he’ll forget about me.” My voice trembles, my throat tight with emotion. “He doesn’t deserve how shitty and selfish I’ve been. I was a mistake.”

“Jeff—” Lucy starts, but I cut her off.

“He deserves someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone he can trust to love him, to be confident enough to take him out without hesitation... Someone who will hold him when he’s sad and tell him how much they care so he never has to worry.” My words spill out in a desperate rush.

“JEFF—” Lucy tries to interrupt again, but I can’t stop now.

“To make him feel safe. To make him trust that he’s the only one who makes them feel that way. To make him feel like he’s not second best to anyone, ever—”

“Jeffrey, you’re on speakerphone, dude,” Lucy says, her voice softer now, cutting through my rant like a knife.

My heart stops.

“What?” I choke out, the heat rushing to my face, turning it bright red.

“You’re on speakerphone,” she repeats, quieter this time.

I don’t think. I just hang up. My hand shakes as I drop the phone onto the couch beside me. I stare at it, my thoughts a chaotic mess. All I can hear is my own voice, replaying the words I just said, and the horrifying realization that Jamie heard every single one of them.

Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with her?! Did she do that on purpose so Jamie would hear me?! How long was she planning to let me ramble on like a bumbling, fucking mess?!

Lucy calls again, but I don’t pick up. I send her to voicemail, my chest tight with humiliation.

I throw my phone onto the counter and head for the shower. A cold one. Something to snap me out of this spiral, but it doesn’t work. The embarrassment clings to me like a second skin.

When I get back to the living room, my phone is lighting up again. The sight sends my stomach into a tailspin. I don’t bother reading anything except the last text from Lucy:

Lucy: We’re coming back over there. He wants to see you.

My chest tightens. They’re coming over?! The text is from ten minutes ago.

Panic surges through me. I have to leave. Now.

I scramble to gather my things, tossing stuff into my bag as fast as I can. My heart pounds as I glance out the kitchen window and see Lucy’s car pull up.

Shit.

I grab what I can and bolt for my car. I’m almost there, barely managing to toss my bag into the trunk, when I hear Jamie call my name.

No way. I can’t face him right now—not like this, not with my face still a puffy mess. I slam the trunk shut and hurry to the driver’s seat. But before I can open the door, I feel a hand on my arm.

“Jeffrey, stop...” Jamie’s voice is soft, gentle, and it echoes in my ears like a lifeline.

God, it’s nice to hear him again. I’ve gotten so used to talking to him every day, and these past few days without him have been miserable.

I want to shake his hand off, to get in the car and drive away, but I can’t. I can’t move.

“Jeff,” he says again, his hand tugging gently at my arm, trying to turn me around.

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, I unlock the car door, take a deep breath, and gather enough courage to turn and look him in the eyes.

The moment I turn to face Jamie, my heart sinks. He looks terrible. Even though he’s still the same adorable Jamie, he looks exhausted—his eyes puffy, his cheeks swollen. He looks like that because of me, and it tears me apart.

“Jamie… Shit, look at you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

I forget, for a second, that he didn’t want me touching him before, and I gently place a hand on the side of his face. To my surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

My thumb brushes his temple, and I watch as his big brown eyes begin to fill with tears. Then, out of nowhere, Jamie throws his arms around me, hugging me tightly, squeezing me like he never wants to let go.

I shouldn’t be hugging him right now. I know I shouldn’t. Why is he making this so hard?

Despite everything, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him close. My touch is gentle, but there’s a firmness in the way I grip him. I want this to be the last memory of Jamie—the solid yet fragile way he feels in my arms, the familiar scent of that simple bar soap he always uses, the softness of his blonde hair brushing against my cheek.

“Jamie, you shouldn’t have come here if I'm supposed to be staying out of your life,” I whisper near his ear, my voice trembling.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he tightens his grip around my waist, holding me like I’m the only thing anchoring him to the ground. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and excruciating, and the weight of everything unsaid presses down on me like a heavy fog.

“Jamie…” My voice breaks. “This is making it ten times harder for me to say goodbye to you.”

Jamie doesn’t say a word. He just cries softly into my shoulder, his breath hitching with every sob. I hold him tighter, my heart aching with every tremor that shakes his body.

This moment is a billion times worse than leaving him back in Nevada. The pain is raw and unrelenting, gnawing at me with every second. And then it hits me—Jamie’s felt this pain before, back when I was the one walking away. God, what did I do to him?

It doesn’t matter that I was confused. It doesn’t matter. I acted on my own selfish fears without considering his feelings for one fucking second.

I never should’ve gone to his place that night when I was in town. I never should’ve invited him to dinner at my parents’ house. If I’d just kept my distance, none of this would’ve happened.

The guilt is suffocating, pressing down on me like a boulder I can’t shake. This is all my fault—my fault for letting everything spiral out of control, for hurting Jamie all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my voice thick with regret. It’s all I can manage, and even that feels like it’s nowhere near enough.

Jamie pulls back slightly, his tear-streaked face tilting up to look at me. “It’s not your fault,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean…”

“No, you were right,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Everything you said was right, Jamie.”

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you, Jeff. I was drunk. I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what?” I ask, my voice faltering. “That I’m confused? That I keep letting you down? That we’re miles apart, and nothing could ever happen between us? You were right, Jamie. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

Jamie’s eyes drop to the ground as he mutters, “That you didn’t care.”

I place a hand on each of his arms, my grip steady but reassuring. “I’m terrible at showing it, I'm an idiot most of the time, but I’ve never not cared about you... Just so you know.”

Jamie looks up at me, his eyes filled with an anguish that mirrors my own. “I know,” he says quietly.

God, I want to kiss him. I want to prove how much I care, to show him in every way I know how. But I hold back. I know this isn’t the moment. The crushing realization that I’ll never kiss him again hits me like a freight train, leaving me hollow inside.

“Jeff, I don’t want to let you go,” Jamie says, his voice trembling, his eyes pleading with me.

“I know,” I whisper, my heart shattering as the words leave my mouth. “That’s why I’m going to make that decision for you.”

With a heavy heart, I step back, shoving my hands deep into my pockets to keep from reaching for him again. I need to remember this—how it felt to hold him, to be close to him, to feel the warmth of him one last time.

“Jamie, you’re…” I hesitate, swallowing hard as I search for the right words. My emotions are raw, and Jamie is pulling a level of honesty out of me that feels almost too vulnerable. “You’re something really special, Jamie. I know you probably don’t believe a lot of the shit I tell you, but you’d better believe that.”

The words feel clumsy and inadequate, but they’re all I have. I force myself to turn away and get into my car, closing the door with a finality that makes my chest ache.

Through the window, Jamie’s sad, puppy-dog eyes are fixed on me. It’s almost enough to break me completely.

I glance in the rearview mirror and spot Lucy in her car, hunched over the steering wheel, probably trying to catch a glimpse of what’s happening. She tried to help, and I appreciate that, but…

This is so hard.

I start the car and pull away, forcing myself not to look back. But as I turn the corner onto the main street, I catch one last glimpse of Jamie in the side mirror. He’s still standing there, watching me leave.

I love him with everything I have, which is why I have to let him go. He needs space, and I have to respect that—even though it’s tearing me apart.

I’m going to miss him more than I’ll ever be able to put into words.