"This looks like a few different things," he says.
"I miss my friend. We've covered that much."
"Of course. And after you've said hello to your friend, I could introduce you to some of the beautiful ladies who've come to spend a few days with us."
My eyes fall shut, but I'm quick to open them again. "I appreciate it, but you don't need to go to any trouble for me."
"No," he says, that single syllable dripping off his tongue. "I don't suppose I do. So—no women. Just one man. By all means, come on in."
Taylor waves me through the door and says nothing else when he leads me upstairs. I can still hear noise from downstairs, but there are voices in front of us too, and we stop just outside the samedoor Jamie and I had once kept locked. I'm not stupid enough to believe it's unlocked now, and I'm only distracted from my brutal imagination when Taylor knocks loudly enough to startle me, and probably the two people inside.
"Later, you will have to tell me whether it was worth it," he says.
I can't answer before I realize I'm wrong about the lock. Taylor cracks the door open without waiting for an invitation, and I guess that's his right as a host, however dickish he is about it. I'm just off to his side, thrown by how stoic he can be while I'm feeling too many things—at the very least, I would've bet he'd be excited to have a front-row seat to this show—but I'm content to study him for another second or two.
My step closer to a room full of heartache comes just as he speaks.
"Lena, how about you go see what Bailey's doing downstairs?"
A woman—Lena, apparently—scoffs. "Bailey doesn't need me to check on her."
"No, but I need you to leave."
"Come on, Taylor," Jamie groans. "We're just—"
"You're notjustanything. Not anymore. I need her to leave."
Taylor pushes the door further open, and while both Jamie and Lena can see me now, only one of them gasps. Only one of them remembers what happened on a late-August night six years ago. Only one of them understands that tonight might become more impossible to escape.
Lena's in his lap, the same way Jamie's been in mine, though the bench has been replaced by a futon, and I try to tell myself it matters. I watch carefully as she touches him, and feel my blood burn at how thoughtlessly she does it, as though she has before and knows she can again. Wanting to replace her hands with my own keeps me where I am, and Jamie blinks, closer to breathless than I’d like. His grip on her waist tightens, and I hate how vividly thatwill feature in my memories, but I take solace in the fact that they're both still clothed—and that he's starting to separate them while staring at me. She's confused, and more than a little pissed off, her kiss-swollen lips eager to help her pout.
"Who's he?"
"Taylor's right. You should leave."
She stands and smooths the front of shorts too short to need her attention. "Fine, yeah. I'll go see what Bailey's up to. You boys have fun."
"Thanks for letting me in," I say to Taylor just after Lena's disappeared down the stairs.
I don't thank Jamie for anything yet. I'm not convinced he won't throw me out soon, and I'm not sure he's eager to let me talk before that, no matter how far I've traveled for the chance. Taylor seems to have more faith than I do, and his eyes lock with mine.
"You're welcome to stay for as long as Sinclair would like. I'm sure it's been a long day, so I'll make sure nobody bothers you tonight." He holds out his hand. "Give me the keys. I'll get your bag."
I almost remind him I wasn't demanding a place to stay, but then I realize he isn't someone who responds to demands anyway, and I nod. With the keys in his hand, he lingers, staring down at where Jamie's still sitting without bothering to look at me again. It feels, oddly, like Taylor's got my back here, and I can't examine that too closely. It's easier if he remains the villain in this story, at least until I know how it ends.
Then he's gone, the bedroom door closed behind us. I lock it because I'm not Lena.
It was the goal all along, but now I'm left alone with Jamie—really privatelyalone—for the first time since we shared the bed just in front of me now. He's visibly tired, and more than a little ashamed by whatever I've seen, but he's so fucking gorgeous, and I can't helpbut tell him so.
He ignores what I've said, and he stands and walks toward me. I don't have anywhere to go to get away from him, but the trouble I've gone to so far makes it clear I don't want space. Jamie's wearing a loose tank top and gray sweatpants I've seen before, and it's easy to stare at them before I take another chance on falling for pretty blue eyes. He pulls the hair tie from my messy bun and drops it on the floor.
When it's down, it's like you've let something go. Like you've stopped caring so much.
I still care about everything, but I don't remind him of that. I haven't even said hello.
"Did he call you?" he asks.
I frown a little and shake my head. Of all the things I'd imagined Jamie saying tonight, that wasn't one of them, though it means I'm invited to answer after being afraid I'd lost my voice.