Page 51 of Home in Nevada

Shit.

I grab what I can and bolt for my car. I’m almost there, barely managing to toss my bag into the trunk, when I hear Jamie call my name.

No way. I can’t face him right now—not like this, not with my face still a puffy mess. I slam the trunk shut and hurry to the driver’s seat. But before I can open the door, I feel a hand on my arm.

“Jeffrey, stop...” Jamie’s voice is soft, gentle, and it echoes in my ears like a lifeline.

God, it’s nice to hear him again. I’ve gotten so used to talking to him every day, and these past few days without him have been miserable.

I want to shake his hand off, to get in the car and drive away, but I can’t. I can’t move.

“Jeff,” he says again, his hand tugging gently at my arm, trying to turn me around.

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, I unlock the car door, take a deep breath, and gather enough courage to turn and look him in the eyes.

The moment I turn to face Jamie, my heart sinks. He looks terrible. Even though he’s still the same adorable Jamie, he looks exhausted—his eyes puffy, his cheeks swollen. He looks like that because of me, and it tears me apart.

“Jamie… Shit, look at you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

I forget, for a second, that he didn’t want me touching him before, and I gently place a hand on the side of his face. To my surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

My thumb brushes his temple, and I watch as his big brown eyes begin to fill with tears. Then, out of nowhere, Jamie throws his arms around me, hugging me tightly, squeezing me like he never wants to let go.

I shouldn’t be hugging him right now. I know I shouldn’t. Why is he making this so hard?

Despite everything, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him close. My touch is gentle, but there’s a firmness in the way I grip him. I want this to be the last memory of Jamie—the solid yet fragile way he feels in my arms, the familiar scent of that simple bar soap he always uses, the softness of his blonde hair brushing against my cheek.

“Jamie, you shouldn’t have come here if I'm supposed to be staying out of your life,” I whisper near his ear, my voice trembling.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he tightens his grip around my waist, holding me like I’m the only thing anchoring him to the ground. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and excruciating, and the weight of everything unsaid presses down on me like a heavy fog.

“Jamie…” My voice breaks. “This is making it ten times harder for me to say goodbye to you.”

Jamie doesn’t say a word. He just cries softly into my shoulder, his breath hitching with every sob. I hold him tighter, my heart aching with every tremor that shakes his body.

This moment is a billion times worse than leaving him back in Nevada. The pain is raw and unrelenting, gnawing at me with every second. And then it hits me—Jamie’s felt this pain before, back when I was the one walking away. God, what did I do to him?

It doesn’t matter that I was confused. It doesn’t matter. I acted on my own selfish fears without considering his feelings for one fucking second.

I never should’ve gone to his place that night when I was in town. I never should’ve invited him to dinner at my parents’ house. If I’d just kept my distance, none of this would’ve happened.

The guilt is suffocating, pressing down on me like a boulder I can’t shake. This is all my fault—my fault for letting everything spiral out of control, for hurting Jamie all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my voice thick with regret. It’s all I can manage, and even that feels like it’s nowhere near enough.

Jamie pulls back slightly, his tear-streaked face tilting up to look at me. “It’s not your fault,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean…”

“No, you were right,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Everything you said was right, Jamie.”

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you, Jeff. I was drunk. I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what?” I ask, my voice faltering. “That I’m confused? That I keep letting you down? That we’re miles apart, and nothing could ever happen between us? You were right, Jamie. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

Jamie’s eyes drop to the ground as he mutters, “That you didn’t care.”

I place a hand on each of his arms, my grip steady but reassuring. “I’m terrible at showing it, I'm an idiot most of the time, but I’ve never not cared about you... Just so you know.”

Jamie looks up at me, his eyes filled with an anguish that mirrors my own. “I know,” he says quietly.

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