Page 19 of Pieces of Me

I open my mouth, having no idea what I plan on saying.

“I tried to call Triple A, but there’s no signal.”

“It’s a dead spot.” I glance at the RV—it’s beyond fucked. “And, honestly, I don’t know how much Triple A can help you, Jamie.”

Her eyes are aimed in my direction, but she’s not really looking at me. Seeing me. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Because you sure don’t look it.”

“Maybe she’s in shock,” Brianna says. “I think I have some water in the car. I’ll be right back.”

I listen to her footsteps fade before reaching out, my fingertips gentle on Jamie’s jaw, adjusting her head slightly so I can take a better look.

She’s quick to flinch, to grasp my wrist, and push my hand away. Her eyes meet mine, wide and… fearful. Her breaths become rushed, her shoulders and chest rising and falling rapidly. I watch her, my eyebrows drawn, as her eyes fill with tears she doesn’t set free. Finally, after a moment that feels like an eternity, she says, “I’m really tired. I’ll just sleep in there overnight and figure shit out in the morning…”

My spine straightens as I push aside the irritation from her reaction to me simplytouchingher. As if I would actuallyhurther. “Just grab what you need,” I murmur. “You can stay with me.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not negotiable, Jamie!” I almost yell, my words firm. Harsh.

“I need to stay here.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I lost something,” she says, and now she’s back to staring at nothing as if I’m not right fucking here. “I need to find it.”

“You can find it in the morning. Let’s go.”

“I don’twantto find it in the morning,” she snaps, her teeth gritted, jaw clenched. “I need to find it now.”

I heave out a breath, exasperated. “You have about five seconds to get your ass up before I pick you up and throw you in the goddamn car.”

* * *

My house—the place I’ve called home for the past few months—is still on the Eastwood property. It used to be the groundskeeper’s back when my grandparents opened up the garden and pond to visitors. We haven’t needed a groundskeeper since before I was born, so when I moved back home, I claimed the place as mine. When we were kids, Mia and I wandered off in its general direction and peeked at the building from behind a giant tree trunk. We never ventured close enough to actually look inside because, well… it was a creepy old cabin in the woods.

It’sstilla creepy old cabin in the woods.

When I first moved in, I got rid of the furniture right away. There wasn’t much to replace: a bed, couch, TV, and small kitchen table. My coffee table is a stack of pallets I found at the nursery. To say that it’s tiny would be an understatement, but… it’s always worked for me, and I’ve never wished for anything more.

Until now.

Because there isn’t a bedroom. Just one open room that contains the bed, the couch, and the kitchen. And tonight, my current girlfriend, my ex-girlfriend, and I are all sleeping in the same room.

Fun.

“It’s not much,” I tell Jamie, motioning to the couch, “but it’s better than the alternative.”

Jamie nods. She hasn’t said shit since she got in the car.

Brianna sets a glass of water on the makeshift coffee table and says she’s going to shower. Thankfully, the bathroom is the only room that’s closed off becausethat—that would’ve been super awkward. Or insanely hot. And I have no clue what Jamie’s been up to the past five years, so maybe she’s into girls now? Or three-ways!

Here’s hoping.

Also, I may still be slightly drunk.

I drop a pillow and sleeping bag on the couch—and Jamie stares at the pattern of the pillowcase—rocks—before looking up at me, her brow drawn. “Only my nephew uses it when he stays here, and he’s into rocks and minerals....”

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