Page 25

Epilogue

Thanksgiving dinner is a cozy, quiet affair—just the five of us around my parents’ table. The warm glow of the overhead light highlights the mismatched autumn decorations Mom always insists on using this time of year. The aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and fresh-baked pie hangs in the air, blending with the gentle clink of silverware against plates.

I’m just finishing up an update on my job search for my dad’s benefit, trying not to let his relentless expectations dig too deep under my skin. He’s on a mission these days: telling me I need a “real job,” something with stability and a “decent paycheck.” He doesn’t understand that I don’t just want a paycheck—I want something that actually feels right .

At least he seems somewhat satisfied with my explanation, nodding once before turning his attention to Lucy. He launches into a discussion about politics—or maybe it’s the economy. I can’t really tell; the hum of conversation is all around me. Meanwhile, Jamie stays locked in conversation with my mom, and the two of them seem to be getting along like old friends.

That leaves me alone with my own thoughts for a moment.

I take another bite of mashed potatoes, letting the warmth settle in my chest. There’s a sense of comfort here, an ease I’ve never quite felt before. It’s weird—like everything is exactly where it should be. A little unsettling, too, because I’m not used to not feeling on edge. Some part of me is finally at peace, and I’m still getting used to it.

I glance across the table and my gaze collides with Jamie’s. His warm brown eyes catch the light, reflecting a sincerity I still can’t fully grasp. He’s smiling, clearly still half-listening to whatever my mom’s saying, but there’s a subtle shift in his expression when our eyes meet. And then—he winks at me.

It’s ridiculous how quickly my heart ramps up. Just one look from him can do that. He’ll never fully understand how deep this runs for me… how one small moment can turn me inside out.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing my chair back and gathering my dishes. I don’t even wait for a response; I head toward the kitchen. As I rinse my plate under the tap, the distant chatter from the dining room becomes a comfortable background hum. My mind is already on Jamie—already thinking about slipping away somewhere with him.

I don’t wait long.

Just seconds later, I feel a pair of arms slide around my waist from behind, pulling me against a familiar warmth. His breath fans against my ear, and a little electric shiver skates down my spine.

“Hey… wanna disappear for a while?” Jamie’s voice is low, full of that playful mischief he does so well.

I don’t even hesitate. I turn off the faucet, set my plate aside, and lean back into him, ready to steal a moment just for us. As I turn in his arms, I wrap mine around his waist, pressing my face against the warmth of his neck.

“Meet me in my bedroom in five minutes,” I whisper, my voice low and inviting.

Jamie’s soft laughter dances along my skin, sending a ripple of excitement through me. He stays behind as I dry my hands quickly, my pulse already thrumming in anticipation.

When I step into my old bedroom, it’s both the same and completely different. The faded posters on the walls, the battered desk in the corner—relics of a younger, more clueless version of me. The dusty lamp in the corner casts a warm glow, shrinking the room and making the space feel more intimate.

I ease onto the edge of the bed, lean back, and stare at the ceiling. My mind buzzes with thoughts of Jamie—of how it feels to be so close to him, how his smile can still make my chest tighten.

Shifting, I hear something clatter beneath the bed. Confused, I reach down and pull out an empty liter of Sprite.

“What the fuck…” I mutter, staring at it like it’s cursed. Years could have passed since I shoved it under here.

How long has this thing been under the bed?!

The door creaks open before I can dwell on the ancient soda bottle too long. I shove it back under the bed with a guilty flush, hoping Jamie doesn’t notice.

“Jeff?” His voice is quiet, the door clicking shut behind him. The muted sounds of Thanksgiving bustle fade, leaving just the two of us.

When I see his playful grin, something in my chest flips. It’s that trademark Jamie look, equal parts teasing and warm. I don’t even wait to speak.

I grab him by the arm and pull him onto the bed with me, our bodies colliding in a mess of limbs and soft laughter. His shirt comes off between kisses, and I can’t stop touching him. My hands drift over his skin, warm and familiar.

Lying beneath me, Jamie looks unreal. His hair is sticking up, his lips slightly swollen from kissing, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. For a second, I just stare, letting the moment stretch.

“What?” he asks, a small, curious smile tugging at his mouth.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, still breathless. “I’m just… happy. You’re unreal, Jamie. You’re—my best friend. I love you.”

His grin widens, that knockout smile that always makes my stomach flip. He tugs me down again, kissing me deeply, fingers fisting the front of my shirt.

“I love you, Jeff,” he murmurs against my lips before kissing me again.

Everything feels perfect. There’s a quiet rightness in my chest, a sense that I’ve stepped into the life I was meant for all along. No more hiding, no more running.

Just this.

Just us.

His presence is my sanctuary, that steady heartbeat reminding me I’m right where I need to be. Not in Nevada, not in California, but right here in his arms. Jamie is my rock, my constant. And with him, I’m finally home.