The One That Got Away (Kingston Ale House)

by A. J. Pine

  After their conversation, Jamie wasn’t sure who broke up with whom. All he knew was there were no consequences. He was single, free, and not nearly as drunk as he planned on being when he set things in motion tonight. Either way, he knew this was the start of something, and as he hopped in a cab and headed back to the brewery, his thoughts went to one person—Brynn.

  He went straight for the party deck, infiltrating every cluster of fellow grads as he looked for her. At one point, Stacy Fletcher grabbed his hand and tried to lead him to the bar for a drink.

  “Teach me about your brews,” she’d said, and despite how much he admired the skin pouring over the top of Stacy’s dress, she wasn’t the girl he was looking for.

  “Sorry, Stacy. I have to—do something.” It was a shitty exit but an exit nonetheless.

  Brynn had made him watch When Harry Met Sally enough times to know that he was Harry at the end of the movie, in his big, New Year’s Eve grand gesture scene.

  When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

  Spencer Matthews wasn’t the romantic lead. Jamie Kingston was, and Brynn needed to know that for him it had always been her.

  Finally he found Annie talking to the asshole Ryan again.

  “Where’s the fire, Jamie?” Annie teased, but her expression shifted when he didn’t return her smile.

  He was buzzing with adrenaline and a sureness he hadn’t felt since the night he’d kissed Brynn.

  “Where is she, Annie?”

  And just like that, he saw Annie go through three visible emotions in seconds. First the teasing, then concern, and now? He could swear her wide eyes and fallen smile spelled pity.

  “Shit, Jamie.” She gave him a once-over, noting his coat. “Where have you been? She just took off with Spencer.”

  Took off? Brynn wouldn’t leave without telling him. They came here together, which meant the unwritten rule—they’d leave together.

  “You didn’t stop her?” His deep voice grew hoarse as panic set in, any hesitation he had about telling Brynn how he felt erased by the need to find her before he blew his chance.

  Annie excused herself from Ryan and moved off to the side.

  “Jesus, Jamie. What was I supposed to do? Tell her to wait because maybe you were finally going to make things right between you guys? I haven’t even seen you since we left the front bar.”

  Her voice cracked, anger morphing to worry.

  “It’s okay,” he assured her. “You’re right. I’m just…”

  He stuck his hand in his coat pocket, then patted the one in his jeans.

  “I left my phone in my office. I’ll call her. Or text. Or something. She can’t be far, right?”

  Annie shook her head, but he didn’t wait for more confirmation. He raced to his office—to his phone—so he could catch Brynn before she did anything he wouldn’t be able to get over.

  He didn’t remember locking the door, but he thought nothing of it as he fished for the keys in his pocket, remedied the situation, and burst into his office.

  His heart sank, right to his toes and possibly through the floor. He swallowed back the burn in his throat that had nothing to do with Jack Daniels this time and braced himself against the doorframe. All those years of self-preservation, and Brynn was still able to demolish him in mere seconds. Because there she was, perched on Spencer Matthews’s lap, one arm round his neck, the other poised to deposit an empty shot glass on his desk. Her seductive smile faded quickly.

  Shit. She’d definitely never smiled like that for him.

  He stood there, rooted in silence, waiting for some cosmic force to end this moment so he could get the hell out of it. An asteroid pulverizing Earth sounded pretty fantastic right about now. A Lake Michigan tidal wave? Bring it. The fuck. On.

  Anything but this.

  Brynn slid off Spencer’s lap, and he stood, looking no worse for the wear.

  “I’m going to head back to the party,” Spencer said. “Great place you got here, Jamie,” and he offered a hand to shake. Jamie had to do everything in his power not to say, It’s James, asshole.

  But Jamie shook his hand and forced a smile. As much as he wanted to blame the guy, Spencer had no idea what was brewing beneath the surface.

  “See you in a bit?” he asked Brynn, and her face softened for a moment as her eyes fell on his. She nodded, and Spencer was gone.

  “Dammit, James.” The words fell out of her mouth, laced with bitter disappointment.

  “Fucking hell, Brynn.”

  And that was that. Jamie accepted defeat.

  Chapter Five

  Holly and Annie ushered Brynn toward the Kingston Ale House entrance. Last night she’d practically strutted through the doors, but in the harsh light of morning, reality was not a pretty picture.

  She’d almost kissed Spencer again. In Jamie’s office. Talk about poor judgment. She could have found a more appropriate place, like the corner booth behind the stairs on the first level, or back by the pool tables, or a freaking bathroom stall. If she gave this one to her sister or Annie to analyze, which—duh—she was so not going to do, she knew exactly what they’d say. Holly would laugh and say I told you so while Annie would give her some big speech accusing her of taking Spencer there on purpose, secretly hoping that Jamie would catch them. Self-sabotage, Annie would call it, which was ridiculous, because Brynn wanted Spencer.

  Not Jamie. Jamie had Liz and was happy. What happened in the past needed to stay in the past.

  “I’m going. I’m going,” she said after Holly gave her a good shove.

  “I don’t know why you’re all bent out of shape,” her sister said. “So you and Jamie had a little fight. Don’t all married couples fight from time to time?”

  Annie snorted. Brynn looked over her shoulder to give them both the stinkeye, but that only made them laugh more.

  She was through the door now. The bar didn’t officially open until 11:30, but the plan had always been for the gang to do brunch after the reunion before Jamie and Jeremy had to work the rest of the day and night and before Annie opened the store at noon. Brynn didn’t work weekends, but the girls weren’t going to let her off the hook for brunch. So here they were, at the ungodly hour of ten o’clock, and the horror that was last night punched her right in the gut.

  Her stomach clenched. She and Jamie had fought before but never like that. Even that awful summer ten years ago hadn’t been the result of anger. And as much as Brynn had been hurt by Jamie rejecting her after finally figuring out she had feelings for him, she knew in the back of her mind they’d get through it. They were kids. They had too much ahead of them not to find their way back to each other. But something about last night had a sense of finality to it that scared her.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Jamie had asked as soon as Spencer left the room. “In my fucking office? Did you want me to see? To make sure—in case I had any doubt—that I knew where we stood, where we always stood?”

  Brynn had winced at those words, but the alcohol that had made her bold mutated as it coursed through her veins, putting her on the defensive.

  “You’re the one who decided where we stood, Jamie. A long time ago, so don’t you dare try throwing that in my face.” She’d been heaving as she spoke, not able to suck in enough air but knowing if she paused for even a second it all might backfire, and she might cry. But Brynn Chandler wasn’t going to cry over Jamie Kingston again. “You want to know what I was thinking? I was thinking that for once it could be my night. I was thinking that you wouldn’t give a shit because you had a party to tend to and a girlfriend to go home to and—ugh! Why does this even matter? We’re not a couple. We never were. It’s time we stop fucking acting like it.”

  He’d stumbled backward when she said that, a small but noticeable step, and it tore Brynn’s heart to shreds to hurt the person she cared about most. But that was it—what had been holding her back with Spencer
even before Jamie walked in. They’d been each other’s plus-one for years, but they’d never been together. He’d moved on from whatever had been there at one point. It was time for her to do the same.

  “I’ll take a cab home later,” she’d told him.

  “I know.” Jamie had cleared his throat. “I’ll ride with you.”

  “No. You won’t.”

  And then, like a pro, she’d swallowed back all the residual hurt that had risen to the surface, strode past him, and returned to the party only to find that Spencer Matthews was minutes from leaving, taking a late flight home to L.A.

  “I’d love you to come to the launch in a couple of weeks—if you happen to find yourself in California,” he’d said. “Just wish we didn’t have to cut tonight short.”

  He’d kissed her on the cheek, and she knew the restraint was because of where they were, of who owned the place. It was like Big Brother was watching—if Big Brother happened to be a brewmaster who didn’t look kindly on people making out in his office. They’d exchanged numbers, and that was that. It would probably be another ten years before she saw him again. By then she could introduce him to her cats.

  “Shit!” she heard Annie yell, bringing her back to the present.

  “Whoops!” Holly added, then knocked into Brynn, launching her forward where she’d soon face-plant on the wooden stairs leading to the upper deck. But strong arms wrapped around her torso from the side, and she recognized the familiar scent of a cologne-free Jamie.

  “Whoa there, Sleepy Jean. Don’t want you ruining two years of perfect yet unpleasant orthodontic care.”

  She stiffened in his arms but didn’t pull away. Because it was Jamie. Yet here they were—touching and at the same time miles apart. She waited until he loosened his grip, then righted herself.

  “Sorry!” Annie blurted, running in behind Holly. “I tripped, knocked into Holly and, you know—domino effect. That’s the first time I’ve seen it play out in real life, and I gotta say, the phrasing is spot on!”

  Holly giggled but brushed past her and Jamie to their usual table in back by the pool tables. Annie followed, leaving Brynn to straighten and dust herself off before turning to meet Jamie face-to-face.

  His hair was still damp, which explained the freshly showered scent, but he hadn’t shaved. Instinct took over, and she ran her palm over his jaw. Jamie sucked in a breath, and she immediately pulled away. She wanted to tell him that she loved this look on him, when he let the shaving go for a day or two or seven, but it all seemed wrong now—noticing things like this. And after last night, saying anything to that effect felt like crossing a new boundary they’d both drawn.

  “I don’t always need you to catch me, you know,” she said, defenses kicking in once again.

  Jamie pressed his lips into a thin line, exhaling through his nose.

  “Guess that’s just for Saturday nights and Sunday mornings, then?”

  On any other day this would have been Jamie making a joke. He and Brynn would have both laughed. But he wasn’t even smiling. No, he was just reminding her that he was right and she was wrong. She’d needed saving last night and again this morning. Fine. That much was true. But as a general rule, Brynn Chandler did not need saving, and certainly not by Jamie.

  “Let’s just get this over with, okay?” she said, making a move to step past him. She spoke without malice, only exhaustion. She just didn’t have it in her to do this right now.

  Jamie opened his mouth to say something, so she hesitated. Maybe he had the solution, the correct thing to say to get them past this part. But when his eyes met hers, holding her there for a second longer, he simply closed his mouth and took a step back, giving her easy passage to the back of the bar.

  …

  Safety lay behind the bar, so that’s where Jamie stayed. He sighed. The best brew for the drink was the one he hadn’t added to his tap yet, one he hadn’t even let Brynn taste, even though her palate would be the deciding one. His version of a witbier, the answer to Brynn’s love of Blue Moon, was bottled and ready to go to Beer Fest in L.A.—if Jamie decided to make the trip. Which he still hadn’t.

  Jamie mixed a pitcher that was equal parts witbier and fresh-squeezed orange juice, the beermosa. He poured a small amount into a pint to taste, then gave his head a shake. Good, but sweet. Too sweet for him. In a lone pilsner glass, he made himself a Red Eye—tomato juice and ale with a splash of hot sauce. Sure, it put extra hair on your chest and balls, but on a morning like this, it also gave him something to focus on other than last night.

  “What’s the holdup, big guy?” Annie hopped onto a stool opposite him.

  He took another sip, then let out a long breath.

  “It’s probably better if I just hang here and play bartender.”

  Annie pressed her lips together in a pout.

  “I want your side of the story, now,” she said. “Brynn told me what she could, but her arms were kind of flailing as she spoke, and I was more concentrated on not losing an eye than I was on the story.”

  He couldn’t help but smile at the visual. He knew Brynn’s unrestrained body language all too well. His hand instinctively went to his chin, the tips of his fingers brushing the small scar.

  “I went to the hospital to break up with Liz,” he said. Annie’s jaw dropped, and Jamie nodded. “That’s the only reason I left, and by the time I got back?” He shrugged. “It’s my own fucking fault,” he added. “I’ve kept her at arm’s length this whole time, and it’s not like she knew I was heading back here to tell her I’ve been in love with her since I was seventeen.”

  Annie sighed. “I can picture it, you know? How it should have gone—you storming back into the party, walking right up to her and scooping her into your arms like An Officer and A Gentleman.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I was going to go a little more When Harry Met Sally, but yeah, something like that.”

  She fanned herself with both hands, like she was trying to stave off tears.

  “Are either of your brothers single?” she asked. “And are they at least half as romantic as you are? Because that would probably be enough for me.”

  Jamie reached for his pilsner glass, and Annie grabbed his hand before he could take a sip.

  “You’re going to tell her now, right? About Liz and the feelings and the loving her for a decade?”

  She let his hand go, and he avoided immediately answering with a long, slow sip.

  “She was straddling another guy—in my chair, Annie. She doesn’t want to hear about my feelings, and I sure as hell don’t want to play runner-up.”

  Annie crossed her arms. She craned her neck to peer around the corner where Brynn, Holly, and Jeremy huddled in a booth nursing coffees and talking animatedly. Well, Holly and Jeremy were engrossed in conversation. Brynn just sat with her hands clasped around her mug.

  “If she knew, she’d pick you,” Annie said.

  Jamie thought about this. She hadn’t picked him before, not until he kissed her, and even then it was only because Spencer wasn’t there. Yes, Brynn felt something in that kiss, too, but it never would have happened if she’d made it to the party. He wasn’t going to be second choice again, or the person she chose because of proximity.

  “What if I want her to pick me without knowing first?” he asked. “What if I want her to be sure who she wants before picking me?”

  Annie narrowed her eyes at him and stood, grabbing the pitcher Jamie still hadn’t delivered to the group.

  “So you want her to go to California?” she asked, and his eyes widened. “That’s right, loverboy. Spencer Matthews invited her to his book launch in L.A. two weeks from now, and she’s already checking flights to see if she can afford it. If you are so sure about this picking you thing, then you’ll be fine if she heads out to Cali to spend a weekend with the guy she almost kissed twice in ten years.”

  Jamie’s jaw clenched. The thought was enough for him to grind his own teeth to dust. But as much as Annie was bait
ing him, she was also right. If Brynn wanted to see this thing with Spencer through, he had to let her go. He had to let her decide on her own who she wanted without him forcing the issue. As much as he hated this idea, it was out of his hands. Brynn had free will, and if there was anything still there on her end, she had to realize it on her own.

  He drained the rest of his glass, the hot sauce blazing down his throat. His eyes widened, not from the heat but from either the most brilliant or absolute worst idea he’d ever had.

  “Annie—” he started, knowing once he said it out loud he’d have to follow through if Brynn agreed. “Not only do I want her to go to L.A., but I’m gonna take her there.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but Jamie was already making his way toward the end of the bar. He was done hiding. He could still make his grand gesture even if Brynn had no idea he was doing it.

  This would be it, the trip that would fix them. All she had to do was choose Jamie before they got to L.A.—or else break them for good.

  Chapter Six

  Brynn jumped at the sound of Jamie pounding on the door, but her contact landed safely over her iris before she threw her hands up in exasperation.

  “Holly! Can you let him in?”

  Her sister popped out of her bedroom and poked her head in the bathroom door. “Will the extra thirty seconds make you not late?”

  Brynn responded to her sister with a one-finger salute, which only made Holly laugh.

  “Remember,” Holly said. “Glass half full. This is going to be an epic trip no matter how it ends.”

  Brynn pouted on the way to her room, but Holly was already halfway to the door. She used to be the glass-half-full type, but it had been a long time since she’d seen the world that way.

  Thirty seconds later, Jamie leaned in her bedroom doorway while she hopped on top of her suitcase, urging the zipper to do the impossible.

  “I’m heading to work, you two.” Holly ducked past Jamie and into the room to give her sister a quick hug. “Text me every day. Send pictures. And if you find anyone about six feet tall, dark brown hair, and built like a pro soccer player, feel free to bring him back with you. Bonus points if he looks just as good in Armani as he does in L.L.Bean.”