Page 16 of Riding Jamie

He’s right, though, about me not being over Jamie. It’s frustrating to admit, even to myself, but even after all this time, I can only think about him. I don’t remember talking to Shane about him, but it’s probably not hard to figure out why I’m such a jumpy mess when it comes to the topic of dating. And I’ve told Alli a bit about the fiery end of my relationship. She doesn’t strike me as the type to gossip, but it’s not like the walls are soundproof.

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. Jamie still takes up too much space in my head, and I have no idea how to fix that.

The chime of the elevator breaks me out of my thoughts, and I step out, fumbling for my keys.

Still not over my ex, huh?

I snort inelegantly, exhausted and ready to pass out. Of course I’m not over him.

I’m starting to think I’ll never get over Jamie Walker.

Chapter Eight

JAMIE

Today wasthe last day of my circuit contract until October. I hopped out of the ring with a new buckle and rushed straight to the airport with my hair still wet from a shower. I probably should have stayed until tomorrow morning, but I’m stepping off a plane in New York instead, and I don’t really care what the consequences are.

Two weeks, two wins. I’ve deposited several nice, fat checks into my bank account, and I’ve got enough bravery to stand in front of Oakley again, even if I don’t feel like I deserve to breathe the same air as her. I may not feel like I’m a man she can lean on yet, but I feel a little less like a helpless high school boy.

I’ve only got a little over a month off from the circuit, but I probably only have about an hour before my dad calls me demanding to know where the hell I went, and I want to make every last second count. Frank signed me on for another show at the next rank up, and I’m hoping that I’ll start pulling some steady money in soon. If I can tuck a few more buckles onto my belt, maybe Oakley will see me as someone she can rely on.

The way she deserves.

My hands shake as I step out of the airport and scan the crowd of cars for an unoccupied cab. I wrinkle my nose at the scent, even if I know it’s probably worse in the city. It’s not even that bad, really. I’m just used to the air smelling like open land and animals, but this just smells likepeople, jam-packed into one shared space that’s way too small for them all.

When I finally find a cab with their light on, I rush over to pull the door open and slide into the backseat, halfway to breathless. It’s all finally happening.

I’m in New York, and I’ve got one hell of a speech planned, and if I’m lucky, I might just have the girl of my dreams back in my arms within the hour.

“Where to?” the cabbie says, starting his meter.

I fumble my phone out and read off the address that Bo sent me.

I settle back into the seat as the cabbie starts weaving his way through the congested lines of airport traffic, trying to keep myself calm. I’m so insanely grateful that Bo decided to throw me a bone. He’s been the only one willing to help me at all here. Phoebe won’t give me a second of her time, no matter how much I’ve tried to explain everything. All she’ll say to me is that I’m getting what I deserve and that Oakley wants nothing to do to me.

I won’t believe she’s right. Not when I’m so close to getting her back.

Maybe Oakley will laugh at me for even trying and refuse to give me a chance to talk. Maybe she’ll give me that same blank, uncaring look she did the night that I lost her and tell me to leave.

Part of me thinks even that would be better than the silence I’ve been suffering through.

I desperately hope that she still thinks of me, that maybe she even misses me, just a little. I can’t bring myself to hopethat she’s been as wrecked over this as I have because even if Savannah Ward is to blame for that kiss, not telling Oakley about the circuit is my fault.

My lungs go tight with excitement when I catch the name of the penthouse, emblazoned in massive, glittering letters on the top of one of the buildings. The whole city is bright and sparkling, but suddenly all of it seems dull in comparison. I do my best not to bounce in my seat like a toddler as we draw closer, and I clench my hand around the strap of my bag in an attempt to distract myself for just a moment.

I need to be calm for this. I need to be able to tell her everything that I’ve been thinking about since she left, and I need to give her a reason to come back to me. I need her to see that I’m someone she can trust, someone mature and capable.

Throwing up out of excitement the second I see her isn’t going to cut it.

“Anywhere in particular I should drop you off?” the cabbie asks as we pull into the parking lot.

I fumble for my wallet, ready to throw him as much money as he asks for without a second thought. I feel like I can hardly even think, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel it in my throat.

“No,” I say, shaking my head, “the front door should be?—”

I cut myself off before I can finish my sentence, a million different thoughts and emotions flooding me all at once.

There she is.

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