by A. J. Pine
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “We’re not sleeping together. He’s my friend. I wouldn’t mess with that.”
She had enough failed relationships to know she didn’t want to add Jamie to that list. She was glad he met Liz, especially since he seemed happier these past few months than she’d seen him in a long time. It might be weird to watch him fall head over heels for someone, but she’d be happy for him if it happened—when it happened.
Just not with her sister.
“Anyway,” Brynn continued, “you’re only bringing that up to mess with me about tonight.”
Jamie had found Liz, and tonight Brynn would get a second chance at her own fireworks.
Holly threw her hands up in the air. “I’m just asking you a question. I’m not trying to foil your ten-year plan.”
“What ten-year plan?”
Jamie walked in, and instinct told her to change the subject. She had by no means been pining for Spencer Matthews for a decade. But if the stars were aligned again, who was she not to see where they led her? A second chance at a guy she could have fallen for when she was a teen ranked much higher than another setup from her poor, grandchildless mother.
“What do you think? Is everything working the way it’s supposed to, you know, work?” she asked, doing a quick twirl and shaking out her hair. Then she smoothed her hands over the fabric, making sure the A-line skirt was straight and that the back of the dress wasn’t somehow caught in her underwear. They’d take a taxi to the ale house, so she wasn’t wearing tights. Though the dress stopped above the knee, her fabulous four-hundred-dollar boots that weren’t really hers protected enough skin to make braving Chicago’s unexpected late-September chill doable.
Holly and Jamie nodded.
“You’re sure, both of you? It’s a thumbs-up?”
“Yes,” Holly said. “You’re hot, B. Own it, honey.”
Brynn laughed.
“Can I ask you something?” This from Jamie. “Did you pick a turtleneck dress on purpose?” He raised a brow.
Brynn’s cheeks went hot, and Holly’s brow creased. She ignored the twist in her gut at Jamie bringing up that night now. But, if she had to admit it, yes. On some level the turtleneck seemed fitting. Jamie stood there, a knowing smirk on his face.
Busted.
…
Jamie didn’t know what bugged him more, remembering that Brynn wore a turtleneck that night ten-plus years ago, or that she was wearing something to remind her of the night she wished she’d had back then instead of the one she spent with him.
He laughed, a little too loud to be casual and a little too forced to be genuine. Still, he hoped he’d saved face.
“You’re wearing something to remind you of your attempt to pass on a potentially life-threatening illness to another human? That’s twisted, Brynn.”
She winced, and he knew he’d gone too far. It just slipped. Brynn. Sleepy Jean, Dieter, B, even SJ on occasion, but Brynn? That only seemed to come out when he was angry. He’d nicknamed her the day they were paired up for a think/pair/share in eighth-grade language arts class. She’d introduced herself as Brynn, and he found her later in the library pretending to read her history book. Her head bobbed to whatever was playing in the earbuds hidden in her wild, curly hair, and he sat down at her table, pulling one free so he could listen.
“The Monkees?” he had asked, eyes wide with incredulity and maybe a little embarrassment at recognizing the band so quickly.
She’d snatched back the bud and paused the music.
“Not like I should have to explain everything to you, James, but everyone knows the Monkees are my favorite band. My mom grew up loving Davy Jones, and she was good enough to pass that love on to me. No one seems to have a problem with it.”
He crossed his arms and pushed his skater bangs out of his eyes.
“Not everyone knows if I didn’t know, and you can call me Jamie. My friends do.”
She sighed. “Who said we were friends?”
He had smiled at her then. “Come on, Sleepy Jean. After all we’ve been through since third hour?” Right then something cracked in her veneer, a twitch of her lip that let him know he’d won her over.
“Fine, Jamie.” She’d sighed. “We’re friends.”
And that had been it. Since then they were Jamie and Sleepy Jean to each other, and when formal names were verbally lobbed, the other knew something was up.
“Mono is not a life-threatening illness,” Brynn scoffed. “You should know. And what do you have against Spencer, anyway, James?”
Touché. He deserved that.
He had nothing against Spencer Matthews, not anymore. But the mere mention of his name brought back feelings of that night when Brynn had been more than a best friend to him. Jamie liked to tell himself he was over it, but the memory still stung. Just the idea of Spencer had won Brynn over. She’d barely even spoken to him senior year yet was sure he was the guy…until an ill-timed sickness gave Jamie his opening. One kiss. That’s as far as they got. Then, when everything in his family went to shit, he let it drag the possibility of Brynn and him down, too.
Tonight he’d let the plan play out the way it was supposed to. If Spencer got the girl ten years ago, Jamie would have been crushed. True. But he never would have known what he was missing. Now he did. At least the teenage version of him did. But that was the thing about tonight. It made him feel only a blink away from seventeen, which meant his actions and reactions were not necessarily those of a twenty-seven-year-old man.
“I’ve got nothing against self-important author types,” he said, digging the hole deeper with his petty dick-headedness. “And you shouldn’t take your spleen for granted. Mono is not something to fuck around with.”
He laughed at his own joke, even though a ruptured spleen was no laughing matter.
Brynn rolled her eyes, and Jamie knew he was in for it. He’d heard nothing but Spencer Matthews’s name this past week, from more than just Brynn. As owner of Kingston Ale House, he’d been in charge of maintaining tonight’s guest list, and Spencer’s name was definitely on it. Then there was the fact that the guy was Jamie’s age and releasing his first novel in a couple of weeks. It seemed like everyone who knew Spencer wouldn’t shut up about what the guy had accomplished at such a young age.
What about Jamie? Maybe he didn’t create a literary masterpiece, but it was his name on the brewery’s sign, and he also made a great pale ale and was working on a chocolate stout. Everyone loved a chocolate stout, right?
“You’re sure he responded without a plus-one?” Brynn asked, and she seemed to let go of the tension pooling between them.
“Positive,” he said. “And don’t worry. I’ll be busy enough with the party end of things that no one will think we’re there together, so no accidental cock-blocking.”
This got a smile out of Brynn, and he told himself the sting it gave him was just a result of those residual high school feelings, the ones he’d put aside and buried deep when he finally got his friend back. So what, he fell for his best friend when they were teens. So they’d kissed, and Brynn had actually told him she wanted more. But Jamie had told her it was shit timing, that he needed a friend instead of a relationship. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be supportive if she found happiness now. He just kind of, sort of, maybe wished it could be with another guy—preferably one who shared no part of their history.
“It’s actually good Liz is working tonight,” he added. “Things will probably be too crazy for me to be a good date.”
Brynn poked him in the ribs, in that spot only she knew was his most ticklish, and he fought hard not to laugh. Instead he grabbed her finger, and they stood there in silence for several seconds. Then Brynn cleared her throat.
“You sure you’re not just worried about taking such a big step?” she teased. “I mean, introducing her to the high school crowd? That’s probably bigger than meeting the parents, huh? Has she met your parents yet?”
He let go of her finger, a
nd her hand fell to her side.
“We should go,” he said, ignoring her questions.
Liz wasn’t the issue tonight. All that mattered was he’d be busy enough that when Brynn aimed her arrow at her target, he’d have plenty on his plate so he wouldn’t have to watch.
He put his arm around Holly and gave her a brotherly squeeze.
“Good night, Miss Holly. Don’t wait up.”
Brynn came at her sister from the other side, planting a kiss on her cheek, and said, “But don’t forget I’m coming home and accidentally chain lock the door.”
Brynn had to crash at Jamie’s place on more than one occasion due to this oversight before.
Holly pushed them both away playfully.
“I’ll leave myself a note on the door,” she groaned, and Jamie and Brynn both watched as she followed through with the statement as soon as she uttered it. They trailed her to the door where Jamie helped Brynn on with her coat before grabbing his, too.
“Have fun storming the castle, you two,” Holly said. “I expect to hear everything at brunch. And take care of my boots!”
Brynn blew her sister one last good-bye kiss, and Jamie ushered her out the door and into the small hallway that led outside.
A snap of wind startled them, and Brynn lost her footing in the boots only to have Jamie catch her in his arms before she hit the ground. He chalked up the shiver that ran down his spine to a breeze off the lake.
“My hero,” she said, giving him a patronizing pat on the cheek.
Jamie righted her and hailed a taxi, and they were surrounded in warmth within seconds.
“Kingston Ale House on Southport,” he said to the driver, then turned to Brynn.
“You know I’ll always catch you, right?” He meant it. No matter what happened tonight or another ten years from now, he always wanted Brynn Chandler in his life.
She responded by smiling and nudging his shoulder with hers.
Jamie sat back and smiled to himself.
Maybe he was over what he felt for his best friend in high school, and maybe she would finally get her kiss tonight, the one she hadn’t forgotten about for ten years. But Jamie hadn’t forgotten, either—what it felt like to love her from afar and lose her, even if it was his fault. That’s what kept him at a distance now. That’s what the memories did—reminded him the only way he’d always have Brynn was like this. Funny what the mind did, though, on a short cab ride to revisit his decade-old life. It brought all the memories crashing down, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Jamie had been the one to play caretaker the night Brynn didn’t kiss Spencer Matthews. He’d sat with her at urgent care and later waited outside her bathroom door to make sure she had the strength to shower and brush her teeth before settling in on the couch for the night. The pharmacy had been closed, so she would have to wait until the next morning for the codeine.
“Looks like it’s just us, Cherry Garcia, and Sprockets,” he’d said, getting her situated on the couch. She’d lain with her head in his lap, and even now in the back seat of a cab, Jamie’s heartbeat sped up at the memory, just as it had done in real time.
“Talk about worst night ever,” she’d said. “And I’m ruining yours, too.”
He’d brushed his fingers across her forehead and along her hairline.
“Not possible, B. A night with you—healthy or not—beats a stupid party every single time.”
He remembered her smiling at him and then dozing off. The truth was there was nowhere in the entire freaking world he’d wanted to be than with Brynn that night, no matter how she saw him.
At midnight, she’d woken, her head in Jamie’s lap. Her fever had broken, and she’d put on her glasses and stared at him with eyes so clear Jamie didn’t know what to make of it until she’d asked him the question that catapulted them from just friends to something more.
“Jamie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you really not get mono again?”
He’d shrugged. “I remember my doctor saying you weren’t supposed to, but it’s not a guarantee.” He held his breath, too afraid to hope where the conversation might be headed.
“But you stayed with me anyway?” she’d asked, her eyes wide with recognition.
And he’d nodded. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
She’d sat up then, still holding his gaze. “I was supposed to get kissed tonight.”
At that point, Jamie couldn’t even nod. He couldn’t move. And he certainly couldn’t speak. So he’d waited.
“Kiss me?” she’d asked. “I know it’s stupid. I’ve never…we’ve never… I just… Jamie, you stayed.” She’d tugged the hair tie off her wrist and pulled her curls back into a bun. “I don’t have a fever anymore, but I get it if you’re scared of getting sick again…”
She didn’t have to finish. He’d pulled her to him so quickly, there wasn’t time to think. In that moment, Brynn had wanted him, and it didn’t matter if it meant putting his health at risk. That he could do. And for a few sweet minutes, his lips had been on hers. There were smiles and sighs and the taste of a Hall’s throat lozenge, yet he hadn’t cared. Because a weight had lifted from his chest, one that had been pressing down for an entire year. But always in the back of his mind there was that voice, and it told him again and again, with every brush of her lips, that this couldn’t last. It was only a brief interlude, but in that time he’d let down the walls, let self-preservation fly out the window.
“Jamie,” she’d said when they finally parted, his name a breathy sigh. God, he could hear it again, could conjure it at will. Why wouldn’t his brain forget?
“Yeah?” he’d asked, his voice hoarse, his heart hammering with anticipation.
“We just kissed,” she’d said, and he’d nodded. “We should do it again. When I’m better. We should…”
Her eyes had been wide with realization, and he’d threaded his fingers with hers.
“Yeah,” he’d told her, beaming that what he never thought was possible was actually happening. “We should.”
The next morning brought the fever back, and Brynn’s mom had filled her prescription as soon as she got home. For a week she was in a codeine haze, and Jamie barely saw her. When she was finally well again, Jamie’s family had fallen apart. His parents had ridden the wave of a miserable marriage until he’d graduated high school—the last of the Kingston boys to leave home. Brynn had spent the week miserable and in bed while Jamie spent his hiding out to avoid the vicious verbal lobs his parents threw at each other. Funny, they’d never fought that he could remember. But once his dad said he was leaving, everything they’d held back came pouring out.
“I can’t do this, B,” he’d told her when she was finally well again. “I need my friend. Because if it goes any further…I just can’t watch us turn into them.” That had been the only explanation he’d had—the only thing he thought would make sense to her. Because the truth of it was, everything he’d thought he knew about love had detonated in an instant. How could he let himself fall further for her when all his life he’d been taught a lie? So he’d caged his heart—enough to keep it safe and enough to keep Brynn in his life, even if it meant hurting her to do it.
She’d cried, but she hadn’t argued. Why would she fight a losing battle? Because that’s what Jamie was. For a year he’d played it safe, never fought for what he wanted. Then when he finally got it, he pushed it away after one amazing kiss.
Jamie turned his head toward Brynn in the cab now, sliding his arm around her.
“We’re good, right?” he asked, and something wistful rose to the surface in her eyes. He wondered if she knew where his mind had wandered, wondered if hers ever wandered there, too.
“Always,” she said, and leaned her head to his shoulder.
Friends, he thought. We’re good as friends. That’s what he kept telling himself, and he was sure by now he believed it.
Chapter Two
One of the perks of knowing the owner o
f the establishment was making sure her stuff was safe when it was time to get her drink on, and Brynn did not take this for granted. Jamie led her to his office at Kingston Ale House, her secret hideout where she would leave her purse and coat for the remainder of the evening.
“Has Liz been here yet?” she teased him, and Jamie gave her that look, the one that asked, Are we done with this yet? But the only way she knew how to deal with him dating was to act like the annoying little sister. It wasn’t like he was going to marry the girl.
Wait. Could he marry this girl? Brynn laughed quietly to herself. She and Jamie never got that far in relationships. They wouldn’t have to think about marriage—to other people, of course—and how that would affect their relationship for years, right?
“Not yet,” he said, oblivious to the convoluted places her mind seemed to be taking her. “She works mostly night shifts, and well, so do I, so there hasn’t really been the occasion for her to visit while I’m here.”
“Hmmm,” she said, then hooked her arm in his. “Guess I’m still your work spouse for now.”
Brynn took a selfish satisfaction in this. Sure it made her feel a bit petty, but she liked that there was a part of Jamie that wasn’t Liz’s yet. He had always been Brynn’s fallback when they were single together, and he’d been a big help during this most recent dry spell. It seemed like every other weekend, someone they knew was getting married and, thank the stars, Jamie was there when she needed a date. Well, until three months ago. And really, it was her own fault she lost her backup date in the first place.
