Page 90 of The Fire

“Myfault?” I leaned toward him. “Perhaps you haven’t heard mywords, Caelan.”

“Dear God, you’ve been talking at me for two hours, Parks. I’ve heardallyour words. And all about Jamie’s words. And about your strange fascination with yurts, and how Brian Carr is actually a really decent guy, and how competitive yoga should be avery real, very seriousthing.” He rolled his eyes as the room began to fill with steam. “And as your friend, I’m about to give you what my grandmother likes to call a Come to Jesus. You ready?”

“Maybe?”

Cal nodded. “Ya fucked up.”

“No!” I shook my head. “Cal! Cal, Cal, Cal. How can you fuck up when you haven’t done anything? When you let other people call the shots and you just… you just…smile throughandbestrong? You see?” I said patiently. “When I don’tdothings, I can’t be at fault.”

“Oh, I see. You’re good at anything if you don’t try. Everyone’s a winner until they play their cards. But you’re missing the—” He broke off and shook his head. “Nope.Nope. Shower first. Then chana masala. And when you’re a little more sober, I’ll explain how your mind is a logical wasteland.” He grabbed a towel from under the sink and hung it on a hook for me. “But don’t worry, Parks. This is a good thing. This meansyoucan fix it.”

He winked, then pulled the door shut behind him.

I found I had to sit on the toilet lid to get my jeans all the way off, which suggested that Cal might have had a point about the whiskey, but about the rest? Not a chance. If Cal thought that running water was going to somehow change the basic facts of the situation, then love had damaged his brain.

I stood under the hot spray for a while, trying to decide where to go from here. What came next? If my lack of money and my lack of job weren’t factors, I asked myself, what would I want to do?

But the only thing I could picture when I closed my eyes was Jamie’s face when I’d left the house earlier… and the memory made me want to vomit even more than Cal and Ash’s schmoopiness had.

How the hell were you supposed to walk away from someone you cared about, even when they hurt you? Even when they were a stupid, dumb, idiotic…idiot, who refused to go all in and take the risk of being in a real relationship?

I shut off the water and wrapped up in the towel, then propped my backpack on the vanity to take stock of my clothing choices. Two pairs of Jamie’s jeans that were too big for me, a bunch of his t-shirts, a pair of rainbow polka dot underwear, and no socks.

Jesus. Five-year-olds packed to run away from home with more efficiency than this.Mostly because they know they won’t actually leave, a voice in my head whispered, but I tried to tune it out.

I pulled on the underwear and jeans, taking a second to cuff them first, and then grabbed a shirt randomly and pulled it on. It smelled like Jamie—like the lemon-lavender laundry detergent he loved—and my stomach clenched.

“You done?” Cal called. “Food’s ready.”

I swiped my towel across the condensation on the mirror and took stock of my reflection. My eyes were red, my cheeks were bristly, and my hair was a mess. I looked… fragile. I looked like a guy who sat around waiting for other people to decide his fate, because that’s exactly what I’d been doing.

I shoved my pajamas into my bag, then tossed the bag onto the sofa in the living room before heading back to the kitchen. There was a steaming plate of food and a glass of water where my Irish coffee had been, and Cal was sitting in the seat opposite mine with his hands folded on the table.

“Better?” Cal asked as I sat down. “Clear head?”

“Maybe a little,” I allowed. “Food smells incredible.” I took note of his posture. “Is this an intervention?”

Ash, who was leaning against the wall by the kitchen door, smiled, but Cal raised an eyebrow. “Do youneedan intervention?”

I picked up my fork. “Definitely not.”

“Nice shirt,” Cal commented, nodding toward my chest. “I had no idea you were on the Camden-O’Leary Varsity Baseball Team in 2005.”

I took a bite of the fragrant food in front of me and realized I hadn’t eaten all day. “Jameson never throws away a shirt.” I rolled my eyes. “Or a piece of furniture. Or a book. Or a trophy. Orany damn thing.”

Cal and Ash exchanged another of their looks, and I tried not to notice.

“Then do you think it’s likely he just throws away guys he’s in love with?” Ash said gently.

I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. I’d sort of expected Cal to be the one making pointed comments. Ash was usually the quiet one.

“I don’t think he’s throwing me away,” I said, setting my fork down. “He’s just… not interested enough in keeping me.”

“See, the law frowns on keeping people against their will.” Cal folded his arms across his chest. “And you’re a legal adult, Parker.”

I narrowed my eyes and reached for my fork again. “So, what? I’m just supposed to decide to stay? ‘Hey, Jamie, guess what? We’re in a relationship now, whether you like it or not!’”I snorted. “Pretty sure the law frowns on that too.”

Cal leaned back in his seat. “Did you or did you not tell me that Jamie admitted he broke up with you back in the day because he wanted you to have a better life than he thought you could have in O’Leary?”