Page 39 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
He waited until I’d nearly reached him to lift his head, and the pain behind his eyes made me stop in place. Something was wrong, really wrong. I opened my mouth to say the first word, but was at a loss, so I closed it again. I stood there, waiting for his cue.
Jamie’s brows bent together as his eyes scanned me slowly. Then, he pushed off his Jeep in one swift move and his arms were around me. He dropped his head to mine, grip crushing, like he was gripping onto me as his last lifeline. My arms snaked around him hesitantly and I squeezed him in return, letting him feel that I was here. Jamie held me like that for what felt like hours. He didn’t speak, didn’t cry, just kept readjusting his grip around me, pulling me as close as he possibly could. I breathed in the scent of his cologne against his chest, smelling fall in Florida with a spicy mix of cedar.
“Jamie,” I breathed after a while, trying to pull back.
He sighed, the force of his breath moving my hair around it. “Not yet, okay?”
I nodded, face still against his chest, and he quickly pressed a kiss to my forehead before letting me go and motioning to the Jeep. He climbed in first, but my skin was burning from where his lips had touched it. My fingers rubbed the spot as I circled the Jeep before sliding into the passenger seat and buckling my seatbelt.
Jamie turned on his playlist and shot the volume up to seventeen before even putting us in drive. Andre Gagnon started off the soundtrack for the night, Like the First Day serving as a beautiful backdrop to a not-so-beautiful feeling building in my stomach.
It was different being in Jamie’s Jeep without the top down. All the windows were up and the heat was on low, making the music sound even louder than usual. But there were some things that never changed, like the way Jamie’s thumb just barely slid up and down the steering wheel, giving him away. Or how he cracked his neck quickly and quietly, just like he had in high school.
At first I sat rigid, waiting for Jamie to tell me what had happened, but after twenty minutes had passed without a word, I knew he needed time. So, I kicked off my boots and propped my sock-covered feet up on his dash. Jamie didn’t smile or turn down the music to talk, but he let out a long, slow exhale, and I knew in that moment that just me being beside him was setting him at ease.
That knowledge made my chest tingle.
It wouldn’t be much longer until the weather would even out again. Southern California was mild practically year-round, but I actually kind of enjoyed the cold front we were having. It was nice to cozy up, even if just for a few weeks.
We drove in that same pleasant silence we always found when we were together, enjoying his playlist and avoiding real life for a while. After an hour, I thought about reaching for the volume knob, but I didn’t have a cat joke this time. I didn’t have the right words to tackle what Jamie had on his mind. This time, I’d have to wait for him, and I was okay with waiting all night if he needed me to. I guess I should have been thinking about Ethan, wondering if he would find out, if he would be mad — and in a way I did worry about those things. But it wasn’t enough to keep me from Jamie when I knew he needed me.
Two hours passed faster than I thought they could. It was easy with great music and new sights. Jamie didn’t seem to have any destination in mind as he cruised the streets of San Diego. We drove slowly through Mission Valley and Pacific Beach before winding up through Bird Rock toward La Jolla. Eventually we both rolled our windows down, me hanging my hand out the window and surfing the air waves as the heat still blasted high enough to keep me from freezing.
I was in a daze, lulled by the music and the steady hum of the engine when I realized we were slowing down. Jamie pulled into a parking space on the side of a street and I could smell the salt of the ocean. He didn’t speak, just cut the engine before hopping out and grabbing a large bag from the back. I rolled out after him, following his steps without a word.
He wound us through a few small houses and a grove before walking onto a secluded little beach. It couldn’t have been more than two-hundred feet in length, half that in width between the grove and the water. There were a few lights on in the houses off in the distance, but nothing on the beach itself. It was just us, the sand, the water, and the moon.
