Riding Jamie (Montgomery Dreams #1)

Chapter One

OAKLEY

It’s still so early in the morning that the sun just barely peeks over the horizon as I pad down the stairs to the gym on the third floor of the penthouse.

My aunt and uncle have a home gym, and I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my whole life, because if I don’t get to run, I think I’ll probably never stop crying again. New York doesn’t have the same quiet, safe streets that I grew up with. I don’t have access to the track course like I did in high school, so the treadmill is truly a lifesaver. My thoughts never seem to quiet, and the only thing I can think to do right now is run until I collapse.

Music blasts loud enough through my headphones that my ears will probably hurt when I take them out, and my legs are stiff and sore when I tuck my ankle into my hand to stretch, but it feels better than sitting in bed. I’ve already scrolled through what feels like the entirety of every single streaming service my aunt has three times over, and I’m starting to go stir-crazy.

It’s been three weeks since I moved to New York, and while living with my aunt and uncle is great, trying to get over breaking up with Jamie has been rough, to say the least. I’m grateful that I’ve been allowed to wallow for so long, but it’s just starting to make things worse. The only thing that ever helps me get out of a funk like this is running until I can hardly move.

Impatience is a change from the numbness I’ve been wallowing in, although I wish I could feel something that didn’t make my skin seem so tight. The unending sadness is almost claustrophobic, but I don’t even have the energy to try to free myself from it.

I guess it’s to be expected, though . I’ve had a pretty good life so far, but I’ve never had to work my way through something like this before. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve lived a charmed life, but this grief is so all encompassing that it lingers unpleasantly at the edge of every breath.

Setting the speed high enough, I’m just going to skip any form of warmup and go straight into punishing spurts of movement. I barely managed two hours of sleep last night, and I hardly slept at all the night before. If I want any chance at getting a nap in before I pass out from pure exhaustion, I need to exert as much energy as I can.

Sleep has been fitful, plagued with memories and dreams of that last night with him.

Jamie leaning against the barn's outside wall, one long leg crossed over the other. Head bent, shadows from the bonfire cascading over him in flickers of black and gold and orange.

Kissing Savannah Ward.

Her auburn hair glistens in the firelight as she leans over him. No matter how hard I try, I can’t pretend that I don’t see that her hand isn’t on the front of his favorite shirt, the one I bought him for his eighteenth birthday.

Her hands on him. The soft sound of her mocking laughter.

Jamie turning me into nothing more than dirt under his shoes. Worse, under Savannah’s shoes.

It’s even more upsetting to know that I’m only focusing on that stupid kiss so much because I might have been able to forgive Jamie for it. If not for the fact that he lied to me about going on the circuit, about leaving me behind when I had been ready to give up everything for him, we could have worked through that. The kiss had just been the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it hadn’t been what broke us apart.

The treadmill beeps in protest as I ramp up the speed.

I don’t even care anymore if he was telling the truth when I caught him with Savannah. It doesn’t matter if she pushed herself onto him or if her lipstick was on the corner of his mouth because he didn’t want to kiss her, or if it was there because he saw me coming and didn’t want to get caught. I don’t give a shit.

Being in New York with my aunt and uncle and going to college means I’ll take over the logistics company. He can have a fucking blast on the circuit without me while I mope around the house in a city where I don’t know anyone. At least I won’t be lied to anymore.

Maybe it’s because of the way my heart pumps in my chest as my feet pound over the treadmill, or maybe it’s a response from the anger and frustration boiling just beneath my jaw, but I don’t feel like I’m going to cry this time.

I still don’t have any motivation, or even any idea of how to find some purpose in life, but I guess feeling breathless is better than feeling nothing at all.

I was hoping that NYU might be my purpose, but the campus tour was lackluster. It was beautiful, and even though I know almost nothing about architecture, the Washington Square Arch in Greenwich Village took my breath away. It loomed up into the sky like a massive doorway, an entrance into a whole different world than I’ve lived in up until now. When I put my hands on the cool stone and marveled up at the etchings, I swear I could feel the echoes of millions of people doing the same thing over the years.

It’s probably silly of me, but I’m also incredibly relieved that there are actually trees on campus. I’ve kind of been imagining New York as a massive concrete sprawl, and knowing that I’ll have at least a little greenery around makes me feel better. The scenery is different in the city, but it’s a whole different kind of beautiful. Flashier, brighter, like everything has a life of its own and I’m just lucky enough to see glimpses of it as I walked around with the school tour guide. I know better than to expect the kind of sprawling grasses and dense forest patches of home, but even just the carefully curated rows of flowers on either side of some of the sidewalks are enough to make me breathe a little easier. If I closed my eyes and ignored the sound of hundreds of people chattering away, I could almost imagine that I’m back at home.

The classes I’ll be taking sound interesting enough, too, but the idea of sinking my teeth into the coursework of finance and negotiation strategies doesn’t fill me with the same excitement as it had when I sent in my application. Maybe it’ll be different when I’m actually in a lecture hall full of a bunch of other excited students, but right now, it almost feels like it’s just something to do rather than something I worked hard to get. Maybe then it’ll be easier not to think about Jamie’s face when I told him I was going to NYU. I probably need time.

Maybe.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

My uncle’s business is more interesting, at least. It’s not like this is my first introduction to Branson Logistics. I grew up wandering the halls of the company when my family would come up to visit over the summer. But it does feel a bit different now, knowing that the people Uncle Ricky has been introducing me to are going to be my employees one day. I like the people I’ve met, for the most part, and they all seem to be good at their jobs. It’s a very detail-oriented operation, which I think is the real reason why I’m spending so much time shadowing my uncle as he works.

It’s easier to fill my mind with shipping routes and the details of contracts than it is to relive the last time I saw my ex-boyfriend.

I snarl in annoyance as he comes to mind again, huffing and shoving the speed up another several notches. At least it’s a little harder to think about Jamie when I’m worried about falling flat on my face. Maybe pushing the speed up isn’t my best idea, considering the way the muscles in my legs have stopped burning and now just feel like jelly, but I just grab onto the safety bars and push myself harder. My breathing is starting to get truly ragged and sweat is threatening to run into my eyes with every step.

I’ve been bouncing between denial and depression, but I’m settling pretty firmly into fury now, agony and anger twining together as I sneer blindly at the wall in front of me. All I want is a moment of escape, just a second to think about something other than Jamie, but even pushing myself so hard that I’m probably going to beat my fastest mile isn’t enough to clear my head. I’m so furious I swear I can taste it, heat and acid in my mouth. I can feel the heat rise in my body, anger overtaking my exhaustion while furious tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I refuse to let them fall.

I’m done shedding tears over Jamie Walker.

Fuck him and the bull he rode in on.

He’s a coward, and I can’t believe that I fell for all the promises he spewed at me. It was so easy, in the end, for him to give everything up. He gave up on us, gave up on me , with hardly a second thought.

What hurts the most is how easily he let me leave.

I didn’t think he’d just let me walk away like that.

Part of me still expects to wake up one morning to him trying to knock down the door and beg for my forgiveness. Even in my fantasies, I’m torn between wanting to turn him away scornfully and wanting to welcome him back with open arms.

But I’ve given him plenty of time. It’s been three fucking weeks, and I didn’t make it any sort of secret where I went.

I know I haven't made it easy on him. I blocked him on everything, sure, but when I first considered going to NYU, we talked about asking Kathy and Ricky if they’d let him stay here, too. He could ask around. It’s not like we don’t know all the same people back home, and I’m positive he could get my address if he tried hard enough. Phoebe doesn’t say anything about him when we talk, and I’m not brave enough to ask her if he bothered to reach out to her when he couldn’t get through to me. She probably wouldn’t tell me, anyway, considering I told everyone to not even think about him near me, but I don’t think I want to know either way.

If he loved me as much as he said he did, wouldn’t he have found a way to talk to me? He could have shown up at my house before graduation or stopped me from leaving after the ceremony. If everything he said about wanting me was true, he’d have already been here, begging for me back.

Maybe I’m not giving him very many options here, but I just expected him to try harder.

Wherever we go, whatever we do, I’m going to be with you.

I snort scathingly at the memory of him murmuring those words to me. His hands had been in my hair, and I’d believed every single syllable that dripped from his lips.

Going to be with me, my ass.

Jamie Walker is never going to get another second of my time. I’m done with him.

I deserve better than a liar, better than a coward who can’t even tell me that he won’t pick me over the career his fucking dad chose for him.

I’m done waiting around, gritting my teeth and slamming my hand down on the emergency stop button. I grip the safety rails, forcing my breaths to come slow and steady and ignoring the way my fingers are shaking. The motor falls quiet as the belt of the treadmill slows to a stop, and I take a moment to soak in the quiet of the early morning. The only sound in the gym is the sound of my breath. I smirk because I don’t sound like I’m on the verge of tears anymore.

I sound exhausted, certainly, but less drained.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the opposite wall when I straighten up and turn to grab my water bottle. My skin is flushed, sweat glistening under the lights, and the bags under my eyes are so bad that they look almost like bruises. The smile on my face is uncertain, but determined.

I’m not going to be the girl that Jamie Walker walked away from. I’m not going to be the girl he left. I’m going to be the girl he lost .

My life is my own, and I’m going to kick ass at college, make new friends, and call home every week, bragging about how I’ll be the youngest CEO Branson Logistics has ever seen. Jamie can wallow in his own regret when he realizes what he lost, what he gave up, and I’m not going to give it another thought.

I’m going to build my own dream, and he’s not going to get to see a single glimpse of it.

Promise me, I promise you, that to you, I will be true.

The only person I’m going to be true to is myself.

It’s high time I live for me .