Page 46 of Home in Nevada

“I’m the bad guy. I get it.”

Jamie’s still crying, but then he starts walking toward the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” I ask, panic creeping into my voice.

“I’m packing up my stuff,” he says, his tone flat.

My chest tightens, and it feels like my heart shatters into a million pieces.

“...What?”

I follow him into the bedroom and watch in disbelief as he throws his clothes into his duffel bag.

No. He can’t really be doing this. Not after everything. I’ve waited so long to see him again, and now he’s just... leaving?

“I deserve better than this, Jeff. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

The tears hit before I can stop them. I’ve never cried in front of Jamie before—not when I broke my leg in sixth grade, not when my dog died on Christmas in seventh grade, not even when I told him I was moving to California.

But now, as the tears well up, I know he’s right. Deep down, I’ve known it all night.

Why the hell do I deserve Jamie? Who am I to deserve someone like him?

He’s miserable around me. I can never seem to say the right thing, and I’ve been letting him down for years. I’m fumbling through this, unsure of myself, of us, of everything. I'm not confident.

I knew it back at the restaurant. He deserves better.

“Jamie...”

“I’m going to just get a hotel or something until I leave on Sunday night,” he says, his voice steady, his eyes not meeting mine.

“You can stay here,” I offer, my voice breaking.

Jamie pauses, holding a pair of pants to his chest, and looks at me. I panic, turning toward the doorframe so he won’t see my tear-streaked face, but I know he catches it before I manage to turn away. I feel humiliated.

“You shouldn’t have to pay for a hotel,” I add, forcing the words out. “You can stay here.”

“Dude, I’m not staying here with you.”

“I know.” I nod, the defeat in my voice unmistakable. “I’ll go stay with Lucy.”

I leave the bedroom and head to the living room closet, pulling out a messenger bag and tossing it on the couch. Grabbing my toothbrush, some soap, and a towel from the bathroom, I return to the bedroom, rummaging through my closet in silence.

Jamie stands there, still clutching his pants, watching me.

I freeze when he taps my shoulder. Turning around, I see him holding out cash.

“I made you take me to dinner... It was expensive. Jeff, just take it,” he says softly.

I look at him, his solemn expression nearly breaking me all over again. My chest tightens as my eyes well up. I shake my head.

“What? No... Jamie, you don’t owe me half of dinner. Stop.”

Jamie sighs, taking back the wad of cash. He pulls a few bills from the stack and holds them out again.

“Then take $100, at least,” he insists.

My heart can’t take it anymore. Tears spill over, falling freely now, and I can’t stop them.

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