Page 81 of Home in Nevada

She throws her hands up like she’s innocent. "Just asking, man. You know, you could’ve just gone to a less crowded beach."

I shake my head, glancing back at the water. "Well, I liked this one."

Her laughter fades into a softer smile as she looks at me, tilting her head again. "You should go surfing again. Hell, I’ll come too. But seriously, Jeff... you should just do whatever the fuck you want. Stop caring so much about what other people think about you."

I blink, caught off guard by the shift in her tone.

"Just do whatever the fuck you want," she repeats, her voice quieter this time, like it’s not just a suggestion but something closer to a challenge.

The waves crash behind her words, pulling at something deep in me. Something I’ve ignored for too long.

I think about Jamie again—his laugh, his voice, the way he always looks at me with those big brown eyes like I'm someone worth knowing. And for a second, it feels like I can hear him in the waves, steady and constant, pulling me back.

Lucy stands up, brushing sand off her shorts. "Alright, the sun’s frying my brain. Let’s go before I forget my name."

I get up too, brushing off my legs. She’s annoying as hell sometimes, but she’s got a point. I never really listen to Lucy’s advice. She’s loud, impulsive, and half the time she’s messing with me just to get a reaction. But this time, her words stick, lingering in the air like the taste of salt on my tongue.

Maybe it is time I start doing what I want.

The thought feels foreign, almost reckless, like I’m breaking some unspoken rule I’ve always lived by. For years, I’ve let life pull me along—following after Coach, adhering to Tiffany’s plans, my parents’ expectations, even my own fears. It’s like I’ve been running on autopilot, chasing after everyone else’s version of who I should be.

And what I truly want...

The ache in my chest sharpens, spreading outward until it’s hard to breathe. I glance at the waves again, trying to ground myself, but all I can think about is Jamie. His laugh. The way he looked at me when we were kids, like I was the center of his world. Like I mattered more to him than anyone else.

I don’t know when I stopped feeling like that. Maybe it was when I walked away from him, convincing myself it was for the best. Or maybe it was before that, when I started burying pieces of myself to fit into someone else’s life.

But Jamie... Jamie was always different.

Being with him wasn’t about fitting in or following some script. It was easy, natural. Like breathing. And even though I tried to tell myself I didn’t need him, didn’t miss him, I do. God, I do.

What I want is to find my way back to him—not just to Jamie, but to the version of me that felt whole when I was with him. The version of me that didn’t feel so lost all the time.

It’s terrifying to admit, even to myself. What if it’s too late? What if I’ve already screwed things up beyond repair? But the thought of doing nothing, of letting this weight sit in my chest forever... that’s worse.

I don’t know what the next step looks like for Jamie and me. But Lucy’s right about one thing.

It’s time to stop overthinking and start doing.

And what I want… is to go home. To Jamie.

The thought is a steady drumbeat in my head, growing louder with every passing hour. It’s like I’ve cracked open a door I didn’t even realize was locked, and now I can’t stop myself from stepping through it. Thoughts of Jamie consume me all day.

By the time I get home, my heart is racing, thundering in my chest as I set my keys down and grab my phone. I don’t usually get nervous about calling Jamie, but this feels different.

I prop my phone up on the kitchen counter, hitting the video call button before I can second-guess myself. The ringing fills the quiet space, and I lean back, waiting. My fingers drum nervously against the edge of the counter, my mind a chaotic mess of everything I want to say.

The call connects, and suddenly, there he is. Jamie.

He’s sitting on his bed, his blonde hair messy and sticking up a little at the back. The sight of him makes my chest ache in that way it always does—warm and bittersweet.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft and familiar, his smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What’s up? You don’t usually call me like this. Did Lucy finally drive you over the edge? She's a gem.”

I laugh, the sound coming out shakier than I mean for it to. “Not yet. She’s trying, though.”

Jamie tilts his head, squinting at me like he’s reading between the lines. “You okay? …Something's up.”

I rub the back of my neck, my stomach flipping under his gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... been thinking about stuff.”

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