Page 27 of Riding Jamie

I wince at the images my mind conjures up of Jamie unconscious and bleeding in the dirt. How can he be that hurt and still be okay?

“He’s at home,” Phoebe says. “He’s healing up at home. He’s ok. I…I was going to tell you tomorrow.” She flinches at the unveiled terror in my eyes, the way my hands tremble. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when it happened. I just thought…”

She trails off as I push myself to my feet unsteadily, scrambling to keep me from tripping over my own feet.

I can barely see a foot in front of me, my vision clouded with worry, but I know these streets like the back of my hand. I could make it to Jamie’s house blind and deaf if I had to. It looks like that might be exactly what I have to do.

Phoebe is talking to me, but I can’t really make out what she’s saying, my mind so occupied with thoughts of Jamie that I can’t pay attention to anything else. I can hear Mama and Daddy and Bo all coming through the back door, but I can’t wait. I grab the keys to Bo’s truck off the entryway table and shake Phoebe off before rushing out the front door.

The Billings rodeo is in fucking October, and it’s already halfway through the first week of November.

Jamie’s been hurt and trying to heal forweekswithout me. I can explain things to my family later.

Right now, I need to get to Jamie.

I need to see for myself that he’s safe.

Chapter Thriteen

OAKLEY

Be cool,Oakley.

My nerves are so on edge that I can practically see them radiating off of me as I fidget on the porch. I try to convince myself that this isn’t any different from any other time I’ve snuck into Jamie’s room. The light in his dad’s room is off, and there’s no glow of the TV from downstairs so I know his dad is asleep.

It’s just like every other time. It’ll be fine.

I suck in a breath through my teeth before bending to shift the potted plant by the door aside. It’s the most obvious hiding place for a key that I’ve ever seen, considering how bare the porch is otherwise, but his dad never bothered to add to the decor over the years.

The metal is chilly against my fingers, and I flip it over a few times in my palm before I slide it into the lock.

If I wasn’t so anxious, I’d giggle as I slip in through the door, memories of the past flooding through me. I’m surprised at how much I remember, how fresh it all still feels. I don’t trip over the loose floorboard or knock into the picture frame that sticks offthe wall farther than the rest of them do, and for a second, it feels like nothing has changed at all.

It feels like I’m sneaking over to Jamie’s on a school night because I want one more kiss before I go to bed, and that everything is the same as it was in high school.

The thought of just how much has changed in the last few months sits bitterly in the back of my throat.

The heat of panic replaces that bitterness as I take a step closer to Jamie’s room and the loud creak of a floorboard echoes in the hallway. I glance down in shock, and even in the darkness, I can see my mistake. I bite back a groan at my forgetfulness, rushing toward Jamie’s room as quietly as I can.

Of course I remember everything else, but manage to forget the single loudest floorboard in the whole damn house. Sure, I know from experience that his dad sleeps like the dead, but tonightreallyisn’t the night that I want to test that.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I reach Jamie’s room, fumbling in the darkness for the doorknob. His door is silent as I push it open and squeeze in. The lamp on his nightstand is on, and I don’t want the light to spill into the hallway. This whole sneaking in thing is a lot harder when Jamie isn’t actually expecting me.

It’s almost a shock when I finally lay eyes on him.

It’s silly, I know, but knowing that I’m sneaking into Jamie’s house to check on him and actuallyseeinghim, half awake and glaring at the door groggily, well, those are two very different things. My breath stalls in my chest, and it feels like I freeze in place as he blinks rapidly, his face morphing from annoyance to confusion to shock.

The silence stretches on for a tense moment, and then I force my breath out of my lungs and step forward.

“Hi,” I whisper.

My eyes are probably as wide as his are, and I don’t look away from him as I slip my shoes off, but I hope my poorimitation of nonchalance is enough to fool him. If the way he’s watching every movement like he’s afraid I’m going to disappear if he looks away is any indication, he’s probably too shocked to recognize anything other than the fact that I’m in his room.

“Oakley?” he asks, his voice rough from sleep. “That really you?”

I laugh softly as I walk closer and fold myself into the chair next to his bed. His dad probably pulled it in from the office so he can sit and keep an eye on Jamie while he heals, because I know it’s not something Jamie usually has in his room. My hands shake as I tug at the zip of my jacket, suddenly feeling stifled by the heavy fabric.

“Yeah,” I say, my smile wobbly as I trace the lines of his face with my eyes. “It’s me.”

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