Page 53 of Home in Nevada

Jeff:I miss you so much, Jamie.

The restraint I had three months ago, the resolve to do what was best for Jamie, has obviously cracked. I can feel how close I am to completely losing it. If Jamie keeps trying to find his way back to me, even after I’ve told him no, even after I’ve convinced myself this is what’s best for him... how long can I actually keep that up?

Three months, apparently.

My text shows as read, and I see him typing a reply, but I fire off another message before he can finish.

Jeff:I miss you so much it physically fucking hurts.

Jamie: Please come back. I want you to. I don't care about the past anymore Jeff… I want to start over. With you. For good this time. With a clean slate.

Jamie: I said so many stupid things about you that I didn't mean and I'm so sorry. I was insecure.

Jamie: I was drunk. And scared.

Jamie: I had a lot that just came out… I think it just needed to come out.

Jamie: Please come back here.

Jamie: Come home.

My eyes fill with tears. I’d do anything for Jamie—anything. But every time he reaches out, I end up proving that I’m the same inconsiderate asshole who always lets him down. How do I know I won’t hurt him again, like I always do? How do I trust myself not to mess this up all over again?

Jeff:You pound wine like it's Sprite, dude.

Jeff:Are you drunkright now or…?

Jamie:Stop it. Please come back. I'll pay for your flight. I'll book it right now.

Jamie starts typing again before I can even piece together a response.

Jamie:I know you have two weeks off.

…How does he know that? Is Jamie talking to Lucy? How often are they in touch? Why hasn’t Lucy mentioned this to me?

What else does Jamie know?

I’m still at a loss for words, completely torn about what to say.

Jamie:Please.

Jamie’s name and face flash across my screen due to an incoming call, and I jolt upright in bed, slamming my head against the headboard.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, rubbing the spot.

Well, damn. I can’t ignore this. I can’t.

I hit the green button and press the phone to my ear, my nerves tying my stomach into knots. “Jamie,” I say, my voice rough and scratchy. It hits me then—I haven’t spoken to anyone in days. I’ve just been here, in bed, completely dead to the world.

There’s silence on the other end, and for a moment, I think maybe I hit the wrong button. I glance at the screen, double-checking.

“Hello?” I ask, frowning at the display to confirm the call’s still connected.

“Please, Jeff. You can stay here.”

Oh. There he is.

His voice sounds strained, like he’s been wrestling with his thoughts for hours before finally deciding to call. The weariness in his tone cuts through me, and I can’t help but wonder. Did he even get any sleep last night? The thought sends a sharp pang through my chest, twisting the knot of guilt that’s already lodged there.

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