Page 82 of Forever Wild

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “This was bound to happen eventually.” At their confused faces, I shrug. “Well, not this exactly, but Jameson deciding that I’m not worth it. With Peter, I was too focused on my job. Now, with Jameson, it’s happening again. My job is coming between us. Is it such a flaw to want to be good at what I do?”

“Bryn—” Becca starts, but I shake my head.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend that this isn’t bringing up some shit from when Peter broke up with me. I also know that there are things I’m amazing at. I’m good at my job. I’m a fun, interesting person. But I’m not great at relationships, especially relationships where I’m supposed to act like I think the other person is the lead character, and I’m just there to support them. Look what happened in January. The first time we were supposed to get together, I had to cancel because of work.” I take a deep breath, trying to push down the sob threatening to burst from me. “Jameson is great, and I’m great, but I’m not the right fit for him. This would end eventually, and I guess it just seems like I should take the easy out now before I get in too deep.”

“So you’re just going to dump him?” Kelsey asks, flicking through something on her phone.

Becca shoots Kelsey a glare, but she simply shrugs a shoulder, as if to say “We were all thinking it.”

“Do you even have to dump someone who ghosts you?” Izzy asks.

“Jesus, Izzy.” Becca throws up her hands, clearly annoyed by us all at this point.

“Honestly—” I pause, considering if this truly is what I want before I start again. “I don’t think Jameson is ghosting me. I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but”—I shrug—“I don’t think he’s ghosting me. But I also think this is a sign that we aren’t supposed to be together. And it feels like I should listen to that sign.”

“I could text his sister, I suppose,” Kelsey says.

“Oh my God, Kelsey. How did you not think of this earlier?” Izzy asks.

“Well, I have her number because I’m trying to convince her to come work for me once she graduates. She’s interviewed, and I’ve offered her the job, but she’s not sure she wants to move to Wild Bluffs, and I need someone who is at least nearby to meet occasionally. It felt weird to then text her about her brother ghosting my sister.”

“He’s not ghosting her!” Becca explodes.

“I mean, he may not be intentionally ghosting her, but at this point, I think we can all agree she is experiencing ghosting,” Kelsey lobs back.

Izzy pulls out her phone, raising it to eye level to unlock it. “Give me her number. I’ll text her.”

We all sit in silence, waiting as Izzy’s fingers fly over her screen. “There. Now we wait, I guess.”

Chapter forty-two

Jameson

I enter my hotel lobby, the air-conditioning blasting me in the face as soon as I walk through the automated doors. I am contemplating if I want to eat, shower again, or use the lobby phone to fire every person in my employ. I mean, how hard is it to get someone a new phone?

I was laser-focused on my game today, but somehow, everything just felt wrong—off. There was a niggling in the back of my mind, like when you forgot to pack your toothbrush for a trip, that just wouldn’t leave me alone. My game suffered because of it.

I usually love the chaos and apparent middle finger the spectators give the rules of golf at the Waste Management, but today it was overwhelming to have drunk spectators jeering when my ball came up two inches short on yet another putt. It’s not a hole that I can’t come back from, but it’s a clear deviation from the exceptional rounds I’ve been playing lately.

I’m almost to the elevator when I notice JT and Lila sitting next to each other in the lobby, intently focused on their phones.

“Uh, hey, guys,” I say, sticking my hands into my pockets as I look back and forth between the two of them. “What’s up?”

Lila jumps up off the deep, leather couch. “Hey, Jameo. I’ve got a new phone for you.”

I pull the bag out of her hands, too focused on opening the box inside to pull her into the hug she was clearly aiming for.

“Good to see you too,” she drawls, folding her arms across her chest and sticking out her hip in a posture of frustration that I’ve been immune to for about ten years now.

I vaguely catch JT offering to give her a hug instead, but all my attention is on the phone screen lighting up with a white apple. I blink at Lila.

“It’s brand new.”

“No shit, Jameo. You broke your old phone.”

“I mean, none of my stuff has been transferred over,” I say.

JT looks between my sister and me and, apparently, decides to jump into the mix. “Just log in to your account. All your old stuff will be there.”

---