Page 4 of Tactically Tied

"It looks like you lost your shirt."

Ryan shrugged, not correcting her. "You know how it is. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose."

Jami did know how it was. Ryan loved to play cards. He'd missed a few of their dates because he'd been in a card game.

“But it’s good to be back. Good to see you, actually.”

“Yeah, same here,” Jami replied, offering a polite smile even though her brain was already moving to the baggage carousel ahead. There was a time, back in high school, when she and Ryan had been... something. He had been easygoing, always quick with a joke, and they’d had some good times together. He’d been her first real relationship, in the way that teenage relationships were real—a combination of awkward kisses and weekend hangouts.

But now, standing here, all Jami felt was a vague sense of wistfulness, not the pull of old feelings. Ryan had never made her pulse race or her heart skip a beat. Not like…

No. She wasn’t going to think about him. And she definitely wasn't going to think about that kiss. Especially not during the daylight hours. She dreamed about it at night far too much.

Ryan must have caught her drifting off because he stepped closer, offering a casual grin. “Hey, we should catch up. Maybe grab a drink sometime while you’re in town?”

Jami blinked, forcing herself to focus. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be here for a bit.”

Ryan pulled out his phone. The screen was cracked in a few places. “Great. I’ll give you a call.” He flashed another smile, one that she remembered used to send a flicker of excitement through her. Now it just felt... familiar. Comfortable. Like an old pair of shoes that she'd outgrown.

Jami rattled off her number, watching as Ryan typed it into his phone with a nod. “I’ll be in touch,” he said with a wink before heading toward the exit, his steps a little less steady than they should’ve been.

Jami exhaled, shaking her head as she made her way to the baggage claim. It was funny, running into Ryan like that. He was a reminder of another time, a simpler time. A time when things like Vegas weekends seemed like grand adventures.

But even with all that history, there was something missing. She’d never felt that magnetic pull with him—the one that made her heart race or her breath catch. She used to think maybe that was just something out of the movies, but then again...

Her thoughts faltered ashisface—Jed’s face—flashed in her mind. No. She was not going there. Not now. Not ever.

Jami squared her shoulders, pushing the thought away. She was home. Well, sort of. And she had bigger things to worry about than old flames and the one man she wasn’t going to think about.

As soon as Jami spotted Jacqui and Jules standing by the baggage carousel, she felt a wave of nostalgia and frustration wash over her. Nostalgia because, well, this was home. Frustration because of what had changed. Right now, it seemed like that was everything.

“Jami!” Jacqui called, waving wildly. Jules was right beside her, doing the same, their bright smiles warming the icy pit of weariness inside her.

Jami dragged her tired feet over to them. The second she was close enough, she found herself wrapped in a double hug that knocked the wind out of her.

"Ugh, you two..." Jami groaned, but her arms wrapped around them just as tightly. The scent of spicy ginger and warm vanilla was the smell of their family restaurant during lunch hour rushes and lazy Sunday kitchens pulling sheets of cookies and tins and of cakes from the oven. It made everything else melt away.

"You look... terrible." Jacqui pulled back with a teasing grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I probably smell worse though," Jami said, wrinkling her nose and motioning to her crumpled clothes. "Like... airplane ramen and regret."

Jules leaned in to sniff dramatically, then recoiled with mock horror. "Yep, definitely stale ramen."

Jami grinned, pushing Jules away playfully. "Please, you two look like old hags."

Jacqui raised an eyebrow, hand on her hip. "Excuse me, I’m a happily married hag, thank you very much."

They all burst into laughter, the sound echoing above the rumble of suitcase wheels and announcements over the loudspeakers. With the Chou sisters, it was like no time had passed at all.

Jacqui grabbed one of Jami’s suitcases, Jules the other, and they started ushering her toward the exit like they were afraid she might bolt.

Outside, the cold Midwest air hit Jami in the face like a slap, and she shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her. It was early fall, and the crispness in the air was a reminder that winter was just around the corner. They arrived at Jacqui’s car—a shiny Ford truck that Jami could’ve sworn belonged on a ranch.

“Whoa.” Jami stopped, blinking at the massive vehicle. “You’re driving a truck now?”

Jacqui shrugged, patting the side of it like it was a prized horse. “Noah’s. Mine’s getting serviced.”

Jami shook her head in disbelief as Jules climbed into the front passenger seat—her seat, the one Jami always took because she was the middle child, and Jules, being the baby, always sat in the back.

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