Page 102 of Home in Nevada

No one could replace Lucy. I already know I’ll miss her.

“One day, I won’t even recognize you anymore,” she says, voice thoughtful. “You better visit me.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I will. I promise.”

“I don’t wanna miss out on your life, Jeff.”

I look at her, and something about the way she says it makes my chest ache. I don’t want to miss out on hers either.

“Don’t you still talk to Jamie?” I say, motioning toward him. “I bet he tells you everything anyway.”

Lucy hums, but I barely register her response. My gaze flickers to Jamie, standing across the pool, drink in hand, chatting by the table.

Wait.

Jamie’s talking to someone.

It's Brandon.

My stomach drops. A rush of heat floods my chest, the kind that doesn’t come from alcohol. That’sdefinitelyhim. He looks almost the same—same sharp features, same confident stance—except now he’s got a short beard, like he’s trying to reinvent himself or something.

Brandon. Jamie’s ex.

Brandon from high school.

Brandon, who wasn’t gay until thesecondI left, and he suddenly decided he was.

Brandon, who was Jamie’s first. His firstrealkiss, his first boyfriend, his first… everything that actually mattered.My fingers tighten around my drink.

And Jamie is standing there, smiling at him.

Prettily.

Like he wants Brandon to be here. Like he’s happy to see him.

A sharp, nauseating wave rolls through me, settling somewhere in my chest.

Why the fuck is Brandon even here? And why does Jamie look like that? Like he’s remembering something good? Like he still likes him?

The cup in my hand feels flimsy, too easy to crush. I can hear Lucy saying something beside me, but it’s just noise—distant, irrelevant. My pulse is a steady drumbeat in my ears, drowning out everything but them.

Brandon shifts closer. Jamie tilts his head slightly, laughing at whatever he just said.

I swear toGod—

I snap my gaze away before I do something stupid. Before I march over there and demand to know what the hell they’re talking about that's so fucking funny. Before I say something I can’t take back.

My heart is pounding.

“Anyway, what's that even supposed to mean?” Lucy asks, but her voice barely registers.

The anger swelling in my chest is sharp and familiar. It’s the same feeling that ripped through me before I swung on the guy in Tiffany’s bed—the kind that builds fast, too fast, leaving no room to think before it takes over.

My heart pounds. My throat feels tight.

I know that look in Brandon’s eyes.

And Jamie—myJamie—is still looking at him with a smile like he hung the goddamn moon in the sky.

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