Page 25 of Home in Nevada

Shit.

A massive purple hickey sits just above Jamie’s shirt collar, and the entire side of his neck is bright red.

How the hell did that happen?!

I’d been so gentle… or at least I thought I had. I guess I got carried away.

"Holy shit, Jamie," I say, biting back a grin. "I totally murdered your neck. It’s pretty bad, dude."

Jamie’s hand flies to his neck, his eyes widening as all the color drains from his face.

"What?! You’re kidding, right?" His voice pitches high with panic as he bolts into my bathroom.

“FUCK, JEFF! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine…” I try to stifle my laugh, but it’s impossible. “I’ll grab your jacket. You can zip it up all the way. It’ll cover most of it. No one will notice—we’re leaving now anyway.”

Jamie glares at me from the bathroom doorway. “Jeff, my fuckingboyfriendwill notice, you ass!”

I wince and quickly text Lucy to bring Jamie’s jacket to the bedroom. She replies almost immediately. God, I love her. She’s the best sidekick anyone could ask for.

When I unlock the door, she’s already there, glaring daggers at me as she shoves the jacket into my hands. “Jeff, you idiot,” she hisses, her voice low, “everyone’s wondering where you two went. I’ve been trying to keep them entertained, but your mom won’t stop bringing it up.”

“It’s fine,” I say, panicking as I toss the jacket into the bathroom. It hits Jamie, and I hear a muffled string of curses.

I step out and close the door behind me.

“What’d you do?!” Lucy asks, grabbing my arm.

“Nothing,” I mutter, brushing past her.

Without waiting for her reaction, I make a quick exit through the living room, offering hurried goodbyes. My mom doesn’t press me, thankfully. I make up a story about not feeling well and Jamie checking on me. No one asks more questions as Lucy and I share final goodbyes. Soon I’m outside, throwing our bags into the car.

A few minutes later, Jamie walks out with his jacket zipped up to his chin, waving back to the others still inside. As he reaches the driver’s side of his Mercedes, he flips me off and pulls the door open.

“Wait a sec,” I say to Lucy, signaling her to stay put.

“Oh, what now? You guys already said goodbye in your bedroom…” she groans, sighing as she gets into the car.

I walk up to Jamie, who’s still scowling at me, his arms crossed like he’s daring me to say the wrong thing.

“Jamie…” I start, hesitating, my throat tight. “Don’t paint me as the bad guy,” I say, holding his glare. “That’s not fucking fair. I know this was a disaster—hell, a complete fucking disaster—and I’m sorry. I really am. But…” I let out a shaky breath, my voice dropping. “You locked the door, Jamie. You knew what was going to happen, so don’t act all innocent. It’s always been the two of us making these decisions—I’ve never made them for you. And yeah… I suck at controlling myself around you. Why do you think I left?”

His scowl doesn’t disappear entirely, but something in his expression shifts—less angry, more… tired. “Because you’re chicken-shit,” he mutters, almost to himself.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, shrugging, knowing deep down that he's right. “But you better still call me. And come over in December.” My voice softens, the words almost a plea.

Jamie’s face relaxes a little more, his shoulders dropping. “Yeah… I will.”

Relief settles in my chest. I didn’t mess things up badly enough to push him away completely.

“I can’t believe you’re still driving that piece of junk,” Jamie says, nodding toward my car, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Whoa, fuck you too,” I shoot back, grinning despite myself.

We laugh, and for a moment, everything feels normal again. Just us, teasing and smiling like nothing’s changed. But then Jamie looks at me—really looks at me—and his smile lingers, soft and wistful. It hits me like a punch to the gut, the way my stomach twists and flips. Butterflies.

“Bye,” Jamie says, his gaze locking on mine like he’s trying to memorize my face.

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