I rub my tired eyes, and nothing becomes clear. "Is that a yes?"
"Yeah, she works tomorrow night. I'll be home."
Our goodbyes are quick and quiet after that. I have one moreday of teaching to get through before I'll see him, and that's quick and quiet, too. When I make it home, eating is a challenge, but I successfully shower for the second time that day. In the foggy bathroom, I lament the pictures I can't take for Jamie tonight. Then I pull on a t-shirt and jeans and take a picture for myself without knowing why.
I park in Jamie's driveway, and he's waiting for me at the front door by the time I get there. I'm not sure he's slept much all week—it's a feeling I know well—and the shadows under his eyes make me want to apologize for things I've only sort of done. Instead, I stop a few feet short of where I could reach out to sweep the darkness away.
"Congratulations," I say. "I guess that's probably overdue, huh?"
"You owe me nothing."
"I'd rather give you everything."
He nearly winces at that, so close to what he'd said to me the second night we met, but then he turns to walk further into his house, leaving me to lock up behind us like I've done before. Jamie's wearing nothing but pajama pants that hang too low on his hips, and I'd ask him to put a hoodie on if I weren't afraid he'd pick up mine again. When I catch up with him in the kitchen, there's an unopened bottle of bourbon on the counter, and I raise an eyebrow.
Jamie shrugs. "Impulse buy. You can take it home if you want."
"A consolation prize?"
"Mateo."
"When did you know?"
"Officially?" he asks. "The morning of prom. I went to your apartment to tell you, and then I—it wasn't right."
"But holding my hand while I jerked off was fine?"
"It was as close to perfect as I could get."
"When did youunofficiallyknow?"
He leaves the liquor alone and reaches for his water bottle. "We've been talking for the past few months, off and on."
"We?" I echo. "You and Taylor McKeon?"
"He doesn't get to call all the shots, no matter what he thinks," Jamie snorts. "But yeah, he was part of it. Most of it was the GM, or other front office people."
"Did all of this start at McKeon's house? When you were there for spring break?"
"Nope, that's just a rumor. All of it happened recently."
I shake my head. "You still had time to tell me."
"Yeah, I did," Jamie agrees. "But at first, it felt impossible. Like I was dreaming, and at any second, I'd wake up and be in the hospital again, and have nothing. Then even after a few meetings, my attorney reminded me none of it was a sure thing until they put something in writing. But then they did, and it still wasn't supposed to be announced so soon. It shouldn't have been a big deal anyway. I'm just an assistant coach, for fuck's sake."
"You'reyou, for fuck's sake. You're Jameson Sinclair."
He tosses the water bottle toward the sink, the landing louder than the throw was hard, and he marches past me and through the great room. For a second, I think he'll go into the backyard—maybe even to the bench from a path I still haven't approached from this side—but he stops at the patio doors, his back to me. I want the distance between us to lessen the pressure in my chest, but it does nothing to help, and I follow him because I'm hurt enough to want to share.
"It wasn't just you—I didn't tellanyone. Not Harper, not Kai. I didn't want to jinx it."
"Sure. It wouldn't be a decision you'd necessarily have to talk through with us, right?" I sigh and hope my breath against the back of his neck is why Jamie has goosebumps. "Harper will be away atschool and doing her own thing even more than she already is. Kai's watched hockey take you away since you were kids. And I'm just the guy you said you'd wait four years to be with."
"I didn't lie to you."
I think he means he wasn't lying about waiting these past four years. He might mean he wasn't lying when he remained silent about his new coaching position. Or it could be about loving me. It doesn't really matter, and I'm only angry when I curl a hand around his waist, my thumb brushing against his bare skin because I’ve never been able to help myself.
"I can't move to New Jersey with you," I say. "I've got my family and my job and—"