Riding Jamie (Montgomery Dreams #1)

Chapter Thriteen

OAKLEY

Be cool, Oakley .

My nerves are so on edge that I can practically see them radiating off of me as I fidget on the porch. I try to convince myself that this isn’t any different from any other time I’ve snuck into Jamie’s room. The light in his dad’s room is off, and there’s no glow of the TV from downstairs so I know his dad is asleep.

It’s just like every other time. It’ll be fine.

I suck in a breath through my teeth before bending to shift the potted plant by the door aside. It’s the most obvious hiding place for a key that I’ve ever seen, considering how bare the porch is otherwise, but his dad never bothered to add to the decor over the years.

The metal is chilly against my fingers, and I flip it over a few times in my palm before I slide it into the lock.

If I wasn’t so anxious, I’d giggle as I slip in through the door, memories of the past flooding through me. I’m surprised at how much I remember, how fresh it all still feels. I don’t trip over the loose floorboard or knock into the picture frame that sticks off the wall farther than the rest of them do, and for a second, it feels like nothing has changed at all.

It feels like I’m sneaking over to Jamie’s on a school night because I want one more kiss before I go to bed, and that everything is the same as it was in high school.

The thought of just how much has changed in the last few months sits bitterly in the back of my throat.

The heat of panic replaces that bitterness as I take a step closer to Jamie’s room and the loud creak of a floorboard echoes in the hallway. I glance down in shock, and even in the darkness, I can see my mistake. I bite back a groan at my forgetfulness, rushing toward Jamie’s room as quietly as I can.

Of course I remember everything else, but manage to forget the single loudest floorboard in the whole damn house. Sure, I know from experience that his dad sleeps like the dead, but tonight really isn’t the night that I want to test that.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I reach Jamie’s room, fumbling in the darkness for the doorknob. His door is silent as I push it open and squeeze in. The lamp on his nightstand is on, and I don’t want the light to spill into the hallway. This whole sneaking in thing is a lot harder when Jamie isn’t actually expecting me.

It’s almost a shock when I finally lay eyes on him.

It’s silly, I know, but knowing that I’m sneaking into Jamie’s house to check on him and actually seeing him, half awake and glaring at the door groggily, well, those are two very different things. My breath stalls in my chest, and it feels like I freeze in place as he blinks rapidly, his face morphing from annoyance to confusion to shock.

The silence stretches on for a tense moment, and then I force my breath out of my lungs and step forward.

“Hi,” I whisper.

My eyes are probably as wide as his are, and I don’t look away from him as I slip my shoes off, but I hope my poor imitation of nonchalance is enough to fool him. If the way he’s watching every movement like he’s afraid I’m going to disappear if he looks away is any indication, he’s probably too shocked to recognize anything other than the fact that I’m in his room.

“Oakley?” he asks, his voice rough from sleep. “That really you?”

I laugh softly as I walk closer and fold myself into the chair next to his bed. His dad probably pulled it in from the office so he can sit and keep an eye on Jamie while he heals, because I know it’s not something Jamie usually has in his room. My hands shake as I tug at the zip of my jacket, suddenly feeling stifled by the heavy fabric.

“Yeah,” I say, my smile wobbly as I trace the lines of his face with my eyes. “It’s me.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

We’re both still whispering, probably quieter than we need to be, but the air around us seems so fragile that I’m almost scared to move.

“Had to come check on you, didn’t I?” I joke weakly. “You’re not allowed to get hurt if I can’t play nurse.”

His chuckle comes out breathy and tired as he shifts up, and I hear the edge of a pained wheeze on his breath. The blankets slip down his chest, and as much as I know I probably shouldn’t stare, I can’t tear my eyes away.

The normally tanned skin of his chest and left shoulder is marred with expansive bruises, shades of purple and red and sickly green melding into the stark blank ink of the tattoos that litter his torso. His arm is set in a cast up to his elbow, and I feel my eyes start to well up with tears when I see the familiar green wrapping. He’d gotten the same color when he broke his wrist in high school, had picked it because it was the color of the dress I was wearing that day. I reach out to trace my fingers over the cast, biting back a sob.

He’s just as gorgeous as I remember, although his hair is a little longer than I’m used to, and his stubble is getting closer to the territory of a proper beard. It’s the pain in those stunning blue eyes that I’m not used to, the obvious worry just beneath the surface.

He’s never looked so fragile before.

“How are you holding up?” I ask, ignoring the way my voice wobbles.

He glances down at his chest and shrugs, then immediately winces as the movement pulls at his injured collarbone.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says.

I let out a wet laugh and wipe at the tears on my cheeks before reaching out. I intend to swat at his head in a playful reprimand, but I wind up just twining my fingers into his hair. It’s a little greasy, but I’m sure washing it isn’t easy right now. If things were different, I’d be helping him to the bathroom and leaning him over the tub so I could scrub shampoo into his scalp. The thought makes something sharp and sad twinge in my chest.

“Don’t play tough with me, Jamie,” I scold, and I can feel all the playful teasing drain from me, replaced by the gut-deep worry that’s been eating at me since Maggie dropped the bomb about his injury.

“I’m ok,” he promises, but he winces when he lifts his good hand up to cup mine where it’s still tangled in his hair.

I tug softly at the strands as tears cloud my vision again, and I don’t bother to hide them. Every ounce of fear and guilt that’s been welling up comes to the surface, and I barely manage to stop myself from wailing pitifully. I look down at him, shaking my head.

“You could have died,” I rasp out, my words harsh and desperate.

“Hey, hey, hush, it’s ok,” he soothes, squeezing his fingers around mine. “I’m a professional, it comes with the territory. But look at me, yeah? I’m alright. It’s fine.”

I pull my hand back and wipe furiously at the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“It’s not fine, Jamie!” I cry, quieting my voice immediately after. “You get thrown by Code Blue, and you expect me to believe you’re fine ? Do you have any idea how worried I was when Maggie told me?”

The look on his face shifts from soothing to something more contemplative, like he hasn’t considered that I’ve been worried, and part of me wants to smack him for it. When he speaks, it sounds almost like he’s in awe of the very concept.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice trembling. “I’ll be careful.”

I nod, still wiping at my cheeks.

“You better,” I tell him.

The quiet that falls between us is broken only by my sniffling. We both just stare at each other for a long moment, neither of us quite sure what to do now. I don’t feel like I can walk away from him any more than I did when I got here, and I open my mouth, not sure what I’m going to say, but knowing that I need to talk. I can’t just freeze this time.

“Bo told me you came to New York,” I say, almost surprised at myself for picking that as the first thing to bring up.

Jamie shifts on the bed, gritting his teeth as he shifts his eyes away from me to glare at the wall in front of him. I feel the loss like it’s a physical touch.

“Why didn’t you come see me?”

My voice is weak and pained, and I flinch a bit when Jamie looks at me again. The soft joy that had been on his face is all but gone, a mask of indifference just barely covering the hurt etched into the lines of his face.

“I did,” he says bluntly. “All I got to see was you kissing some blond guy outside of your apartment. It was pretty obvious I wasn’t welcome so I went back to the circuit.”

My heart drops immediately, and the sour taste of panic rushes back into my mouth. I feel guilty enough about what happened with Shane. I can’t let it ruin this, too.

I won’t.

“Wait, Jamie, no!” I rush out, leaning closer in desperation. “That’s not what it looked like, I swear.”

He scoffs at me, an ugly sneer curling his lips. He’s refusing to make eye contact with me, and when I reach out for his good hand, he yanks it away like my touch burns. I feel kind of like I want to pass out and kind of like I want to throw up.

“Please, Jamie, I’m telling you the truth,” I insist. “He’s one of my colleagues, I’ve never thought of him like that, I swear. I shoved him off. He kissed me, I didn’t kiss him.”

That hurt curl to his lip doesn’t falter for a second, and the laugh he lets out is entirely unamused, pain obvious in the way his voice shakes.

“That sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

My confusion only lasts me half a second before my mouth drops open in pure shock.

It feels like my whole world is rocked onto its side because he’s so right that it’s painful to hear. This is exactly what happened with him and Savannah, and I didn’t even give him the chance to explain himself that I’m begging for right now. The panic coursing through me right now is probably exactly how Jamie felt that night, and I just walked away and left him to stew in it.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper in horror, my hand flying up to cover my mouth as I stare at him, my eyes blown wide and already brimming with tears. “Jamie, I—oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I just—after hearing about the circuit, I couldn’t think straight. I was so upset and I didn’t even listen.” I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from completely breaking down again, and I clench my trembling hands in the sheets to stop myself from reaching out to him. I don’t deserve to touch him, not right now. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, Jamie. I’m sorry .”

My voice breaks on the last word, and my tears finally fall, following the tracks that have yet to dry on my cheeks. He looks hesitant when he meets my eyes again, but I feel his hand shift, just close enough for our pinkies to brush. It drags another sob free from my throat, and my focus narrows to the heat of his skin on mine before he starts speaking again.

“I understand why you did, Oakley. It’s not easy to see something like that,” he says tightly. “It hurt more knowing that you didn’t trust me.”

I know it doesn’t change anything, but all I can think to do is shake my head. I never thought about things like that because, I realize, I do trust Jamie. This whole time, I’ve been doubting myself. I’ve been doubting whether I’d ever be able to move on from him, even after seeing Savannah press herself somewhere she didn’t belong.

“I trust you,” I say, hoping he can hear just how sincere I am. “We were together for too long for me not to trust you, Jamie. I just…I made a mistake. I want to fix it. I want to fix us.”

That’s what this has all been about, really. Through all of it, I still want Jamie.