The One That Got Away (Kingston Ale House)

by A. J. Pine

  The way he saw it, any hesitation to be honest with each other was hesitation about each other, and Jamie saw only one way to fix that.

  “Be right back,” he whispered and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  “Mkay,” she said dreamily, then rolled to her other side.

  Remembering a McDonald’s a mile or so down the road, he quickly dressed and grabbed his bag to sneak out and bring back coffee, a peace offering, he hoped. But when he put the key in the ignition and attempted to start the engine, he got nothing. Not a chug, not one turnover.

  Mr. Level-Headed was about to lose his cool now because he had to get to L.A. Today. He hadn’t told Brynn about the business portion of his trip, even though she’d been the inspiration for it. He was so bent on putting L.A. out of his mind until they actually got there that he’d ignored the part of this weekend he was actually looking forward to, the unveiling of his newest brew, the one that was always for her. After Amarillo he decided telling her would only make him look and feel like more of an ass than he already did. Still, even if she didn’t know it, he had her to thank for convincing him the trip would do him good. When he’d found out they had an extra tent after another brewer dropped out, well, he just figured it was a sign.

  That’s right. A sign. And the one he was getting right now was far from promising.

  He tried the truck again. Nothing. Shit. So much for the tune-up he got before they left, not to mention the flat tire that was supposed to mean they’d gotten the car trouble portion of the trip out of the way.

  He popped his head back in the wigwam. Brynn was still asleep. Then he went to the front office to find out about a mechanic.

  “Closest one doesn’t open for another hour, but I can give you a jumpstart and see if that does the trick.”

  Jamie nodded emphatically. “God, yes. Please,” he said to the man at the front desk. At least if it was the battery it was easily replaced. It was just a matter of someone getting here with one as soon as humanly possible.

  Phil, the front desk guy, pulled his car around to Jamie’s wigwam and hooked up the jumper cables. When it was time for Jamie to start ’er up, Phil gave him the thumbs-up and—nothing. Nada. Not even a sputter.

  Shit.

  “Still could be the battery. Or maybe your starter. Mickey’ll be in the shop soon, and I’ll give him a call. He’ll get one of his guys to tow you over there. They’re real good, should have you on your way by lunchtime the latest if it’s nothing major.”

  Phil headed back to the office, and Jamie told the man he’d be there soon to figure out the whole mechanic situation with Mickey. He crossed his fingers that Mickey didn’t have a busy morning, because he was banking on being his first customer of the day.

  Lunchtime would put Jamie half a day off course. He’d pretended like this week was a leisurely tour because they were making perfect time. They were poised to get into town with hours to spare. But now, if he didn’t check in by seven o’clock this evening, he would lose his spot in the new brewers tents, and it would go to someone else on the waiting list.

  He called Jeremy, who answered on the first ring.

  “What’s up, boss?” He was awake and alert, which hopefully meant Jeremy had made his flight last night without incident.

  “Hey, Jer. Tell me you’re at the hotel already.”

  “Uh-oh,” he said, and Jamie’s heart sank. If Jeremy hadn’t made his flight, he was fucked.

  “What do you mean, uh-oh? I got you a first-class ticket, man. Tell me you didn’t miss the damn flight!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, dude. No reason to Hulk out. I made my flight. I’m just not exactly in my hotel. See, I met this girl on the plane, and she was staying…”

  Jamie blew out a breath and then cut him off. “Okay, okay. I don’t need details. You’re in L.A., yes?”

  “Yes. And you will be soon, right?”

  That was the plan, but Jamie needed a contingency.

  “I know I said I didn’t need you to work until tomorrow, but I’m going to miss check-in, and I need you to do it for me, or we’re nothing but spectators instead of participants.”

  “No problem,” Jeremy said. “Do I just need to sign your name or something?”

  Not only would Jamie need to get this car situation taken care of—and fast—but he’d also need to forward Jeremy his registration documents and hope the guy would be able to oversee the tent setup and sign for the product delivery this afternoon, all things Jamie had planned on doing by getting an early start today.

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” Jamie said. “But, Jer, if you can do what I need you to do today, your Christmas bonus is going to be huge.”

  Jeremy laughed. “Kingston, you know I’m your guy. But I’m holding you to that bonus thing now that you said it out loud.”

  “Deal,” Jamie said, and he spent the next half hour prepping Jeremy for today’s duties.

  When he made it back to Phil, the man told him Mickey already had a tow truck on the way. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least things were moving in the right direction. But there was one more thing he had to take care of.

  “Phil, is there a bus or a train or something nearby that goes to L.A.?”

  Phil glanced at the large analog clock on the wall behind Jamie’s head.

  “Real nice coach bus service runs from Holbrook to L.A. every day at nine. Leaves right from that parking lot across the street.” Phil pointed out the Wigwam Motel’s front office window. “I can call and see if they still have tickets. Add it to your tab and print it right here?”

  Jamie nodded. “The ticketholder’s name will be Brynn Chandler. You’re a lifesaver, Phil.”

  He might be stuck in Holbrook for the day, but he’d still get Brynn to her destination on time. He couldn’t be her choice by default. Not again.

  Jamie was out the door and back to his wigwam in seconds, bursting into their room just before remembering that he’d left Brynn asleep less than an hour ago.

  She was awake and dressed in the Cubs T-shirt and jeans, but Jamie didn’t have the time or energy to give her shit about wearing the shirt. At least this time there was a bra underneath it. Not that he was thinking about her bra. Well, now he was. Dammit. He had to focus. When he did he saw that Brynn’s eyes weren’t puffy and red from last night’s tears. Her brown eyes spat lasers at him through her glasses, despite how goofy her angry face looked with the addition of the bandage on the right half of her forehead, and he guessed he was in for a world of hurt.

  “Where the hell were you, Jamie?”

  Maybe he should have left a note.

  …

  First she’d opened the door to make sure his truck was still there. It was one thing to wake up with Jamie no longer in bed with her. But then to find the room entirely empty save for her and her suitcase? She’d thought he’d actually bailed. Why were things so royally messed up between them now?

  Her heart had settled back into her chest when she threw open the door and found his truck still parked, but then she texted him and got no response. She texted again—still nothing. In a ten-minute time span she went from hurt to furious to downright terrified, and here he was all awake and dressed and not looking at all like he’d been mugged by some wigwam-trolling hooligan.

  “I texted you,” she said when he didn’t answer her question. “Jamie, I thought you left me, and then I thought something happened to you.”

  He was still standing in the open doorway, handle in his hand. With the other he pulled his phone from his pocket and drew in a hissed breath when he saw the text notifications.

  “B, I’m sorry. It’s been a hell of a morning. I was going to get coffee, but the truck wouldn’t start. Battery’s dead, tow truck is on the way, and I had to make a call, which is probably why I missed your texts. I’m sorry. I should have left a note, but right now we have to get you all packed and on the bus.”

  She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again, letting the ent
irety of Jamie’s verbal vomit register. It took a second for her brain to catch up to the velocity at which his words came at her, and the last bit finally registered.

  “Bus? We’re taking a bus? I thought you said the tow truck was on the way.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not taking the bus.”

  She cocked her head to the side, brows furrowed. Then it clicked, and she was suddenly nauseous.

  “You’re putting me on a bus?”

  She thought her little towel rack incident last night—and Jamie taking care of her—meant they’d made some sort of progress, or at least were in a good enough place that they could make the last leg of the journey without enduring eight hours of silence. But now he wanted to just get rid of her.

  “Look, Brynn…” He closed the door behind them and sat on the chair across from the beds. “I don’t know what the car situation is. I’m crossing my fingers I’ll be out of here by noon, but that means not making it to L.A. before eight tonight. I don’t have time to explain, but I have some things I need to do when I get there, and I know you have…things…to do as well. The other option is both of us possibly not making it until tomorrow, which means you’d miss the launch altogether, and we both know that can’t happen. This is the only way to make sure you get where you need to go—where I promised to take you.” He let out a long breath. “It’s going to be a rushed good-bye either way, and I just thought this would be easier.”

  Brynn threw her hands in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was tears clouding her vision or just outright fury. “For you,” she said. “This will be easier for you, Jamie. But you didn’t think to ask what I want. You didn’t think to ask if I wanted to play along with your whole Brynn needs to make her choice scenario, either. You just decided for me because it’s what you want or need or whatever. You need proof about how I feel, right? Well, guess what, James? All you’ve been proving to me is that you’re just as good at pushing me away now as you were a decade ago.”

  He stood and took a step toward her, but she shook her head, and he stopped.

  “Don’t. Just don’t. You win, okay? Where’s the bus?”

  He sighed, shoulders sagging.

  “Across the street. It leaves in twenty minutes.”

  She turned to where her suitcase sat on her bed, packed but not yet zipped. She slammed it closed, struggling to get the zipper around the diameter of the stuffed bag, but she didn’t want his help, and she certainly didn’t want another eight hours in a vehicle with him now.

  “You’re unbelievable,” she said, her back still to him as she forced the zipper the rest of the way. “So worried about your own damn heart you don’t think about what you’re doing to others.” She turned to face him. “And just so we’re clear, by others I mean me. My heart, Jamie.” She touched her fingers lightly to the square of gauze on her forehead, but she knew the searing pain behind her eyes would have been there whether she’d bumped her head or not.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, and his tone told her he knew it was a loaded question.

  “If you’re asking if my symptoms have worsened, no. They haven’t. But thanks for taking that into consideration before shipping me off to Los Angeles.”

  His hand raked through his hair, and she could see he was in agony. Though she felt justified in her reaction now, she still felt the poison with each word she spat at him, hating herself a little as she did. He was obviously stressed about the car situation, but that didn’t give him the right to make this kind of decision for her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I didn’t want you to be stuck here. I didn’t want to be the one who stood in your way again.”

  Ooooh. That’s right. She had shown Jamie her angry side before—her drunk, angry side when he barged in on her and Spencer at the reunion. That wasn’t Brynn, though. This wasn’t Brynn. It was a new version she didn’t like, one that Jamie somehow brought out in her.

  She let out a breath and with it a bit of the anger. They could do this all day, but apparently there wasn’t enough time.

  “I have a bus to catch,” she said softly.

  “Can I at least walk you over there?”

  As spent as she was, Brynn didn’t want to say good-bye just yet. Not like this.

  “Okay,” she said, and without another word, Jamie hoisted her suitcase from the bed and carried it to the door.

  After stopping in the office for the ticket, they were across the street with minutes to spare, and Brynn didn’t want to leave angry.

  “You were going to get coffee?” she asked, and Jamie shoved his hands in his front pockets and nodded.

  “Figured it was warm enough for that frozen chocolate chip drink you love.”

  Come on. He was killing her now.

  “You were going to get me a chocolate chip frappe?”

  “Kinda glad now that I didn’t have to say chocolate chip frappe.”

  “Jamie.”

  “Brynn.”

  He smiled, and her anger softened to a dull ache that tugged at her heart a little too much.

  “Phil said the next pickup is right next to a gas station.” He reached for his wallet, but she grabbed his arm.

  “I’ve got money, Jamie. I already owe you for the glasses, the ticket. I think I can manage some snacks at a gas station.”

  The bus pulled up, and Jamie let his wallet fall back into his pocket.

  “You don’t owe me anything, B.”

  He gave her a weak smile.

  Yeah, she did. She owed him honesty and trust and a love he could count on. But he owed her the same. Neither of them had made good choices these past two weeks—hell, these past ten years. No matter what happened when she saw Spencer, this small separation would be good for her and Jamie, some distance to think. It was pretty impossible to reconcile your feelings for someone when he was always a seat or a bed away.

  “I guess it wasn’t smooth sailing after the flat, huh?” she asked.

  He laughed quietly. “Not even close.”

  “I’ll text you when I get there.”

  He nodded. “I’m heading back on the road Monday. Passenger seat’s yours if you want it. And if you don’t, it’s okay, Brynn.”

  Her eyes burned. “Is it really, Jamie? If that’s how this all plays out, is it really okay? Are we okay?”

  He shook his head. Ahhh, there’s the honesty.

  “Probably not,” he said. “But I can’t stand in the way of your happiness. That’s never what I wanted from this. I love you too much.” He laughed again, but this time he did it without a smile. “I lied to myself—and to you—for a long time. But every day for eleven years, even when I wouldn’t admit it, I’ve loved you. It never lasted with anyone else because you’ve always had my heart.”

  She reached for his cheek, and he didn’t pull away. She swiped a thumb underneath his eye, spreading wetness across his skin.

  “Jamie.” Her voice broke on the second syllable of his name. “Is this really the only way you’ll believe that you have mine?” Because every second they stood here like this, she felt the crack widen—a fault line traveling down the center of her heart, the one that belonged to him.

  He nodded, pressing a kiss into her palm, and her vision blurred with tears. Shit.

  “I love you, Jamie Kingston. And I’m going to prove it.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him, grateful that he didn’t resist. She slipped her tongue between his lips, and he answered by doing the same. She didn’t care that they had an audience or that this kiss was the only thing keeping her from dissolving into a sobbing mess. All that mattered was his touch, that they connected before the road stretched out between them.

  He pulled away first, his eyes dark with desire and pain.

  The bus driver was loading the passengers’ luggage now. He’d already tried to throw hers below, but Brynn insisted on keeping her bag with her since the bus wasn’t too crowded. She wasn’t a fan of letting her stuff out of her sight while on a strange journey
, and the bus driver didn’t argue with her. After he loaded the last few passengers’ bags, she’d have to board the bus.

  She wasn’t sure what else to do, and when Jamie pulled her back into a hug, she breathed him in—their last connection before she said good-bye.

  “We’ll find our way,” he said, but his tone didn’t match his words.

  Friends. More than friends. Whatever it was, Brynn had to believe he was right. Because the alternative was unthinkable.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jamie was an idiot. He didn’t need Annie to tell him that again, but as he sat in the small waiting area of the auto body shop with a woman who was knitting something far too warm for autumn in Holbrook, that’s exactly what she was doing. At least he considered himself an idiot with purpose. That was a thing, right?

  Annie: How could you put her on a bus?

  Jamie: I bought the ticket and walked her to the bus stop.

  He was glad he and Annie weren’t the type who actually spoke on the phone because he could picture her ready to explode at him right now. When she didn’t respond immediately, he worried his attempt at levity—for his fucked-up situation by the way, not hers—had royally backfired. When his phone finally vibrated again, he was ready to apologize for the stupid joke, but then he realized the vibration was not a text notification. The phone was ringing.

  Jamie guessed their friendship was about to reach another level. He stepped outside to avoid any stares from knitting lady and answered the phone.

  “Hey, Annie.”

  “James…” She didn’t sound pissed, but she also didn’t sound like she was calling to comfort his wounded heart. Maybe he should remind her that he was the one with the potential to get obliterated here, that Brynn would probably get to L.A. and realize that Spencer Matthews actually is Mr. Right and Jamie, for the second time, was just Mr. Right Here. But Annie didn’t give him a chance to protest.