Page 6 of Blown

“Thanks,” Jake said, then nodded to the rest of the family. “I appreciate it.”

He turned to Rafe, trying to look casual and easy on the outside when really, his heart was beating a mile a minute.

“I can find my way back to my flat, if you have other stuff to do,” he told Rafe. “It’s just down the hall. And thanks again for picking me up at the airport. We can talk about everything else later.”

He waited, almost holding his breath, to see if Rafe got the message that he needed a time out to be alone with his thoughts and disasters.

“Whatever you’d like,” Rafe said in a worryingly dry voice. “I had planned to spend the morning in the hot shop anyhow, prepping for Monday’s start of classes.”

“If you need help finding your way to the hot shop later, I can show you,” Nally said, his face still shining with admiration.

“Thanks,” Jake replied.

“Or you can follow the signs,” Early told him quietly, smirking at Nally.

Jake laughed a little louder than the comment warranted. There went his knee-jerk laugh reaction again. He covered his awkwardness by moving toward the door.

“Well, it was great to meet you all. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he said, desperate to get away. “Then I can tell you all sorts of stories about this one when we were in Corning.”

“Oh? There are stories to tell?” Rebecca asked, glancing between him and Rafe. “I haven’t heard any stories yet.”

“There are no stories,” Rafe said, rolling his eyes.

There weren’t any stories yet, but give him a few seconds and Jake was sure he could make up a dozen stories to entertain Rafe’s family and make them like him.

“I’ll see you all in a bit,” he said, excusing himself as graciously as he could.

The Hawthornes all said goodbye and wished him well, and Jake strolled out of the office, pretending he was perfectly comfortable in their unusual home.

As soon as he was out of sight of the office, his smile dropped and he hurried down the hall to door number four. He unlocked it as fast as he could, pushed it open, and practically threw his stuff inside before closing the door and leaning against it.

Once he was by himself for the first time in what felt like months, he closed his eyes and blew out a breath.

How had he gotten himself into this mess? Yes, he’d been dreaming about running away from home to live in England since he was a kid, but actually doing it was another thing entirely. His childhood fantasies had mostly involved him riding horses in the English countryside and marrying a prince.

He might still get to marry the prince, or the guy that would be an earl someday, but his imagination had never filled in the blanks about the projects he’d dropped in order to run away or the friends he’d ghosted because he couldn’t keep up with the stories he’d told them. Running away to England had been a fun idea, not something he had to do because too many people in the US were furious with him for lying to them.

“I will not tell a lie,” he spoke into his new home, his eyes still closed. If it was good enough for George Washington, it was good enough for him.

He took another deep breath then opened his eyes, letting the breath out as the sight of his home for the next indeterminate amount of time met him. He smiled. The flat was so reminiscent of every flat or Airbnb he’d ever stayed in on hisnumerous previous trips to the UK. It was simple and elegant with furnishings that were all half a size smaller than anything he’d been used to in the US. The TV was small and a bookshelf on one side of the room held a random selection of books that looked like they’d been left behind by students of the school in the fifties and sixties.

He pushed away from the door and grabbed his suitcase to take it into the bedroom. That room was small, too, but the bed looked cozy and comfortable. The room held a wardrobe and bureau instead of a closet, and through the door into the en suite, he saw the squarish sort of toilet that screamed British to him.

It would be okay. Everything would be okay. He would spend the next couple of weeks working alongside Rafe and endearing himself enough to the man to convince him they should get married so he could get a visa first and then British citizenship. Everything was okay.

Fifteen minutes later, when his phone rang and his sister Beth’s name showed up on the screen, Jake did not feel okay.

“Hey, Beth,” he answered with a smile in his voice as he sorted his clothes. “You’re up early.”

“I’m a teacher, I’m always up early,” she said, then rushed into, “Where are you? You didn’t come home last night and your things are missing.”

Jake swallowed hard.Here we go.

“Um, actually, I’m in England,” he said, abandoning his unpacking to sit on the bed. He was going to need to sit down for this.

“England?” Beth said, her voice going up an octave. “As inBritishEngland?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I flew over last night.”

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