Page 109 of Home in Nevada

Jamie glares at me, but I can’t stop grinning. Did he seriously think Brandonwasn’tstill into him? Watching Jamie earlier, all sweet smiles and casual charm, it was painfully obvious Brandon was eating it up. The thought of it even now makes my blood simmer all over again.

“I don’t know why he thought…” Jamie trails off, searching for words. “I don’t know why he thought I would want to…”

He doesn’t need to finish. The fact that Brandon tried at all just proves my point.

“It’s your sweatpants,” I say, throwing him a wink. “They make your ass look way too good. You see what happens?”

Jamie groans. “And now you’re victim-blaming me—”

Before he can finish, I pounce with another tickle attack. He shrieks, collapsing onto the floor in a hysterical heap, swatting at my hands between breathless laughs. Finally, I pause, panting as I glance around.

Lucy’s still here, eyeing us with amusement. The tension drains from me all at once, my heart hammering but a smile tugging at my lips. I’m just glad the worst of the night seems to be behind us now.

My two best friends.

I wish life had brought us together more often—Jamie, Lucy, and me, in one place, like this. I’ve figured things out with Jamie, but in a perfect world, Lucy would always be around too.

That’s not how things work, though.

I grab a couple of pillows and toss them onto the couch for Lucy while Jamie stands to help. She grins at us, orange residue from Hot Cheetos staining the corner of her mouth.

“It's late,” I say, letting a smirk tug at my lips. “Let’s call it a night.”

Epilogue

Thanksgivingdinnerisacozy, quiet affair—just the five of us around my parents’ table. The warm glow of the overhead light highlights the mismatched autumn decorations Mom always insists on using this time of year. The aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and fresh-baked pie hangs in the air, blending with the gentleclinkof silverware against plates.

I’m just finishing up an update on my job search for my dad’s benefit, trying not to let his relentless expectations dig too deep under my skin. He’s on a mission these days: telling me I need a “real job,” something with stability and a “decent paycheck.” He doesn’t understand that I don’t just want a paycheck—I want something that actuallyfeels right.

At least he seems somewhat satisfied with my explanation, nodding once before turning his attention to Lucy. He launches into a discussion about politics—or maybe it’s the economy. I can’t really tell; the hum of conversation is all around me. Meanwhile, Jamie stays locked in conversation with my mom, and the two of them seem to be getting along like old friends.

That leaves me alone with my own thoughts for a moment.

I take another bite of mashed potatoes, letting the warmth settle in my chest. There’s a sense of comfort here, an ease I’ve never quite felt before. It’s weird—like everything is exactly where it should be. A little unsettling, too, because I’m not used tonotfeeling on edge. Some part of me is finally at peace, and I’m still getting used to it.

I glance across the table and my gaze collides with Jamie’s. His warm brown eyes catch the light, reflecting a sincerity I still can’t fully grasp. He’s smiling, clearly still half-listening to whatever my mom’s saying, but there’s a subtle shift in his expression when our eyes meet. And then—he winks at me.

It’s ridiculous how quickly my heart ramps up. Just one look from him can do that. He’ll never fully understand how deep this runs for me… how one small moment can turn me inside out.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing my chair back and gathering my dishes. I don’t even wait for a response; I head toward the kitchen. As I rinse my plate under the tap, the distant chatter from the dining room becomes a comfortable background hum. My mind is already on Jamie—already thinking about slipping away somewhere with him.

I don’t wait long.

Just seconds later, I feel a pair of arms slide around my waist from behind, pulling me against a familiar warmth. His breath fans against my ear, and a little electric shiver skates down my spine.

“Hey… wanna disappear for a while?” Jamie’s voice is low, full of that playful mischief he does so well.

I don’t even hesitate. I turn off the faucet, set my plate aside, and lean back into him, ready to steal a moment just for us. As I turn in his arms, I wrap mine around his waist, pressing my face against the warmth of his neck.

“Meet me in my bedroom in five minutes,” I whisper, my voice low and inviting.

Jamie’s soft laughter dances along my skin, sending a ripple of excitement through me. He stays behind as I dry my hands quickly, my pulse already thrumming in anticipation.

When I step into my old bedroom, it’s both the same and completely different. The faded posters on the walls, the battered desk in the corner—relics of a younger, more clueless version of me. The dusty lamp in the corner casts a warm glow, shrinking the room and making the space feel more intimate.

I ease onto the edge of the bed, lean back, and stare at the ceiling. My mind buzzes with thoughts of Jamie—of how it feels to be so close to him, how his smile can still make my chest tighten.

Shifting, I hear something clatter beneath the bed. Confused, I reach down and pull out an empty liter of Sprite.

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