Page 14

Chapter 14

The one where Jeff texts back.

Three months.

It’s been three months without Jamie. Three months without hearing him ramble about his photography, joke about his job, or complain about the casino workers who get under his skin. Three months without his laugh—the one that would make me grin no matter how stupid I felt.

I’m still not over it.

I’ve been a complete mess.

Lucy’s been trying her best, showing up almost every day with food I barely touch and pep talks I barely listen to. She swears bringing Jamie over to say goodbye wasn’t her idea, that Jamie wanted to see me. I don’t blame her. She doesn’t get that I’d feel like this no matter what.

I’ve let myself go in every possible way. My weights sit untouched in the corner, collecting dust. My face is unshaven, and the mirror mocks me with hollow cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Even my boss noticed—she pulled me aside last week, stared at me like I’d turned into a ghost, and told me to take two weeks off. “You look like hell,” she said. I thanked her for the compliment and walked out.

It’s day two, and the time off hasn’t helped. If anything, it’s worse. All I’ve done is lie in bed, replaying everything I ever did wrong to Jamie, every mistake, every stupid word or thoughtless argument we've ever had, over and over until it feels like my mind is stuck on an endless, torturous loop.

Saturday morning creeps in like an uninvited guest. The sun barges through my window, its brightness prying my eyes open and shoving me into consciousness. I groan and bury my face under the blanket, but it’s no use. I’m awake.

Then my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it lazily, half-expecting another game notification or some sort of spam. My thumb swipes across the screen to see an email notification before my brain even registers the name flashing beneath the alert.

Jamie.

My heart stops. My stomach twists.

It’s a text. From Jamie.

Jamie : I miss you.

Those are the same words I ignored before. For years. And that regret—it’s still relentless.

My eyes dart to the time stamp. Jamie sent the message at two in the morning. It’s almost seven now.

I can’t ignore it this time. I can’t.

Jeff : I miss you so much, Jamie.

The restraint I had three months ago, the resolve to do what was best for Jamie, has obviously cracked. I can feel how close I am to completely losing it. If Jamie keeps trying to find his way back to me, even after I’ve told him no, even after I’ve convinced myself this is what’s best for him... how long can I actually keep that up?

Three months, apparently.

My text shows as read, and I see him typing a reply, but I fire off another message before he can finish.

Jeff : I miss you so much it physically fucking hurts.

Jamie : Please come back. I want you to. I don't care about the past anymore Jeff… I want to start over. With you. For good this time. With a clean slate.

Jamie : I said so many stupid things about you that I didn't mean and I'm so sorry. I was insecure.

Jamie : I was drunk. And scared.

Jamie : I had a lot that just came out… I think it just needed to come out.

Jamie : Please come back here.

Jamie : Come home.

My eyes fill with tears. I’d do anything for Jamie—anything. But every time he reaches out, I end up proving that I’m the same inconsiderate asshole who always lets him down. How do I know I won’t hurt him again, like I always do? How do I trust myself not to mess this up all over again?

Jeff: You pound wine like it's Sprite, dude.

Jeff : Are you drunkright now or…?

Jamie : Stop it. Please come back. I'll pay for your flight. I'll book it right now.

Jamie starts typing again before I can even piece together a response.

Jamie : I know you have two weeks off.

…How does he know that? Is Jamie talking to Lucy? How often are they in touch? Why hasn’t Lucy mentioned this to me?

What else does Jamie know?

I’m still at a loss for words, completely torn about what to say.

Jamie : Please.

Jamie’s name and face flash across my screen due to an incoming call, and I jolt upright in bed, slamming my head against the headboard.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, rubbing the spot.

Well, damn. I can’t ignore this. I can’t.

I hit the green button and press the phone to my ear, my nerves tying my stomach into knots. “Jamie,” I say, my voice rough and scratchy. It hits me then—I haven’t spoken to anyone in days. I’ve just been here, in bed, completely dead to the world.

There’s silence on the other end, and for a moment, I think maybe I hit the wrong button. I glance at the screen, double-checking.

“Hello?” I ask, frowning at the display to confirm the call’s still connected.

“Please, Jeff. You can stay here.”

Oh. There he is.

His voice sounds strained, like he’s been wrestling with his thoughts for hours before finally deciding to call. The weariness in his tone cuts through me, and I can’t help but wonder. Did he even get any sleep last night? The thought sends a sharp pang through my chest, twisting the knot of guilt that’s already lodged there.

“Jamie, stop for a second and answer me—are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Because I think you are. You've gotta be.”

“Jeff, seriously, stop it. It's early in the morning, I’m not.”

“I hurt you. You’re not supposed to be talking to me anymore.”

Silence. The kind that stretches, daring me to break it—but I don’t. Instead, I let it hang there, heavy and oppressive, hoping he’ll be the one to fill it. My heart pounds in the void, every second feeling like an eternity.

“Jeff, I’m not drunk.” His voice is quieter this time, almost cautious.

“Then do you remember why we weren’t talking?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

The pause on the other end is long—longer than the first.

Jamie was the one who ended things, the one who said he wasn’t getting what he needed from me, the one who felt hurt and disappointed. It crushed me to hear him say that, to know I let him down so badly.

“Jamie, why aren’t we talking?” I press again, my voice firmer this time.

Still nothing.

“Jamie—”

“Jeff, I can’t do it. I can’t just cut you out of my life. I can’t fucking do it.”

The tone of his voice makes my heart stutter, fluttering with a desperate kind of hope. Suddenly, for the first time in months, I feel alive again.

“Jamie, I know you meant what you said that day... You remember?” I ask, my voice softening.

“I remember,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it. “I remember you making that painful drive to pick me up from the airport instead of letting me take the bus. I remember you offering to sleep on the couch so I could have the bed. I remember you taking me to a really nice restaurant—the fanciest date anyone’s ever taken me on. I remember how nervous you were, how excited you were to get back to the apartment, and how adorable it was when you kept dropping your keys trying to get the door open—”

Shit. Now I’m completely flustered, my heart racing like it’s trying to escape my chest.

“I remember when I got mad at you for not caring. I’m sorry, Jeff,” Jamie adds softly.

His apology feels like a dagger to my chest, reopening the wound I’ve been trying to ignore for months. I don’t even know how to respond, but before I can say anything, he continues.

“Jeff, there was a page in your journal,” Jamie says, his voice hesitant now. “The one with the photo of us from that football game. I saw what you wrote under it...”

My breath catches. God, what did I write? I can barely remember, but I know it’s nothing good. Definitely nothing I’d ever want him to see.

“Jamie, I... I haven’t looked at that thing in years.”

“I know,” he says. There’s a pause, and I hear him take a shaky breath. “But I did. And I wish I’d read it back then... Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe I would’ve understood how much you cared, even if you couldn’t say it out loud.”

My chest tightens. I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I didn’t think was possible. “Jamie, I didn’t mean for you to—”

“I know you didn’t,” he cuts in gently. “But I’m glad I did. It helped me understand why this has been so hard for you. For both of us.”

I sink back against the headboard, my hand gripping the phone like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. “Jamie, I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, cutting me off again. His voice is calm, but there’s a rawness beneath it that makes my throat tighten. “Just... come home, Jeff. Start over with me. Please.”

The lump in my throat grows, and for a moment, I can’t speak.

“Jamie…” I take a breath, bracing myself for what I’m about to say. “When Tiffany banged on the door, I was about to finish… You know… what we were doing.” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. It’s humiliating to even bring it up, but Jamie has to know. “I want you to understand why I was so damn pissed off. Tiffany showing up that night just… I was really fucking mad. I didn't mean to yell at her the way I did.”

“I know,” Jamie says, his voice tinged with a faint smile.

“I was so angry. My neighbors were probably seconds away from calling in a noise complaint. I just wanted her to go away. I was so pissed off, dude.”

Jamie’s quiet laugh sends a familiar knot twisting in my stomach. For the first time in weeks, I feel a small smile creeping onto my lips.

“Jamie, I waited so long…”

“For what?”

“For… another chance, I guess.” I clench my hand into a fist on the bedsheets, gripping tightly.

“…A chance for what?” Jamie asks.

I know what he’s really asking—if I just wanted to have sex and get it over with. I get why he’d be afraid of that. It’s what he alluded to when he was yelling in my apartment, fueled by a bottle of wine and Tiffany’s hateful bullshit. But he’s wrong.

Jamie’s never been just a curiosity to me. Yeah, I was curious… but not about sex. It was always about him . About having all of him .

“A chance to not chicken out,” I say finally. “To just… be together. Me and you. No worrying about anything else, no one else in our lives but each other. To prove to you that I wasn’t messing around, Jamie. Maybe I didn’t know what I was doing, but I wasn’t just messing around. I would never do that to you, dude. Ever.” My voice shakes as I push the words out. “I just… I never thought I’d still feel this way about you after all this time. And then you told me I was doing nothing but hurting you, and that… that ripped me apart.”

“Jeff…” Jamie’s voice is barely a whisper.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t playing any kind of game, Jamie. I swear. When you wanted to leave and go to a hotel, it broke my heart. Not because of sex. I mean, that was nice. Really, really nice. But… I just wanted you .”

There. I said it.

It feels like a weight has lifted, finally getting the words out—everything that’s been haunting me for the past few months.

“Jeff, I’m sorry. I overreacted.” Jamie’s voice is fragile, barely audible.

“You didn’t overreact. I was hurting you. You need to tell me that stuff… before you drink half a bottle of wine and snap.”

Jamie lets out a soft laugh. “I was just… being insecure.”

“No, you weren’t. You didn’t tell me how you felt, Jamie. I’m an idiot, okay? You need to tell me if you’re feeling that way so I can get my shit together. Why am I always the one talking about my stupid feelings all the time? Come on, dude…”

“Okay… I will,” Jamie says quietly.

God, I wish he were here. I miss seeing his face—his big brown eyes, the way they’d soften when he looked at me. I can’t help but wonder what they’d look like right now. Would they be guarded, like they were that night? Or full of something warmer, something I’ve been aching to see again? I miss a lot of things about Jamie, but his eyes? They’re at the very top of the list.

“Hey... Jamie...”

“Yeah?”

“For the record, if we were together, I wouldn’t even think twice about anyone else. Ever. You’re it for me. I’m a fucking creep with how obsessed I am with you, I always have been. I’m sure you saw that going through my journal…” I let out a shaky laugh, trying to mask my embarrassment. “You’re on my mind twenty-four-seven. Do you even realize what you do to me?”

Silence.

“All those times back in high school... you were right. None of those girls mattered. I was just a dumb jock who didn’t know what he wanted. I treated people like crap because I couldn’t connect with them—emotionally, anyway. But with you… it was different. It’s always been different.

"Back then, I didn’t want to face what we had because it terrified me. And when I met Tiffany, I thought I’d found something real. But then I saw you again, and it hit me like a truck. You’re on another level, Jamie. No one else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

I take a shaky breath, my heart pounding as I keep going.

“I can’t stay away from you. I don’t want to. Even if we’re just sitting in my car listening to music or eating something gross I ordered at one in the morning, I don’t care. I just want to be near you. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way about, Jamie. It’s just you. Always you.”

The silence stretches, and I’m sure I’ve said too much.

“I’m in love with you, Jeffrey.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, knocking every rational thought out of my head. I nearly drop the phone, my breath hitching as my mind struggles to process what I just heard.

"You don’t have to say anything," Jamie adds quickly, his voice softer now, but still trembling with emotion. "I just... want you to know. I’ve wanted to tell you for such a long time. I know I told you this meant something to me, but you have no idea how much it does."

I try to speak, but my mouth refuses to cooperate. The knot in my chest has burst wide open, spilling over with so much emotion I can barely breathe. I’ve never felt anything like this before—so overwhelming, so terrifying, so perfect.

"So... can you please come home? So I can see you?" Jamie asks, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

"Yeah," I manage to choke out, the word barely audible, but it’s the only thing I can say.

"...For real?" Jamie asks, and I can hear the fragile hope in his voice, like he’s afraid to believe me.

“Yeah,” I repeat, more firmly this time. “I’m coming. I’ll do whatever you want, Jamie.”

There’s a pause, and then Jamie lets out a shaky laugh, the sound soft but full of relief. It sends a warm wave through me, easing the tension that’s been choking me for months.

“You better,” Jamie says, his voice lighter now, and it hits me like a balm. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath since the day he left, and now, for the first time, I can finally exhale.

“On one condition,” I add.

“What’s that?”

“I can’t have a goodbye like that ever again, Jamie.” My voice softens, but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it. “Please don’t ever, ever do that again. I never want to say goodbye to you while you’re crying like that.”

Jamie laughs quietly, the sound so genuine and familiar that my chest aches and swells at the same time. It’s the laugh I’ve missed every single day since we said goodbye, the laugh I never thought I’d get to hear like this again.

“It’s not funny, Jamie. I’m serious,” I say, though I can’t help the slight smile tugging at my lips.

“I promise,” he says, his voice warm with affection, though I can still hear the faint tremble of lingering emotion. “I won’t be dramatic.”

“No crying like that again,” I repeat, my tone firm but teasing.

“Okay,” Jamie says softly, the smile evident in his voice.

“Because you’re going to tell me right away if I do something stupid, or if I upset you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I know I have a goofy smile on my face now, and I don’t even care.

“…I’m not sure why you like me so much,” I blurt out, the thought escaping before I can stop it.

Jamie laughs again, that familiar, beautiful laugh that I could listen to forever. “…Me neither.”

“Don’t be a dick,” I say, grinning even wider now.

His laughter fills the line, and I swear it’s the best sound in the world. I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed him—until this moment. Whatever just happened between us feels fragile but real, like the first step toward something I can’t let slip through my fingers again. If this is my chance to make things right, I’m going to grab it with both hands.

“I’m going to book you a flight,” Jamie says, his voice steady and sure, and for the first time in months, I feel steady too.

Later, as I lie on my bed, still riding the high of hope Jamie just gave me, the words "I'm in love with you, Jeffrey" echo endlessly in my ears. With a burst of nervous energy, I shuffle my feet over to the sad little bookshelf in my living room, the one crammed with dusty college textbooks on weather patterns and papers I haven’t touched since graduation.

I pull the old, faded journal from the shelf, feeling the worn leather under my fingertips. My heart pounds as I flip it open, thumbing through pages filled with my teenage chicken scratch. I can’t bear to read any of it, but I know what I’m looking for.

When I reach the bookmark, there it is—the old polaroid photo of us, slightly faded and curling at the edges. My cocky smirk stares back at me… I thought I owned the world back then. I cringe, my eyes shifting to Jamie. His soft, earnest smile catches me off guard, just like it always did, his big brown eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. There’s a streak of dirt smudged across his cheek from the game, but somehow it only adds to his charm, making him look effortlessly adorable, like he stepped out of some coming-of-age movie we didn’t even know we were starring in. His jersey hangs a little loose on his leaner frame, and there’s a glimmer of pride in his expression that tightens something in my chest. A bittersweet ache settles over me as I take it all in, the memory of that moment.

At the bottom of the photo, my eyes land on the words I scrawled years ago in bold, clumsy letters, right next to our high school numbers: "42 and 16, teammates for life."

Teammates for life.

Jamie. Is that why he couldn’t let me go? The thought grips me, sharp and unrelenting. Did he see something in this—in us—that I’d been too scared to face back then? Did he see how much I was struggling on the inside, even when I couldn’t admit it to myself? Is that why he kept reaching out, still believing I was worth it, despite everything I’d put him through?

For the first time, this journal doesn’t feel like a reminder of the person I didn’t want to be. It feels like a reminder of who I need to fight for.