31. Chapter 31 #2
What started as a tiny flicker of anger in my chest roars up.
What an absolutely shitty thing to say. “He has his own ideas, Wes. This whole thing was his idea.” My shoulders are pushed back, chin tipped, but I can hear the shake in my voice.
“Maybe if you didn’t always expect him to fail, you might be able to see how much he’s succeeding. ”
“Maybe, Noel, if you didn’t think he was destined to have this, you’d see how unlikely it is.”
I feel a little bit like I’ve been knocked in the head when I make my way back to the table where Jamie and his friends sit, talking and laughing.
My ankle wobbles as I take a seat on his knee, and he catches me around the waist, pulling me snug.
His lips find the spot beneath my ear, a warm smile pressed against my skin that would normally have me curling into him for more, but I’m distracted, battling a buzz of discontent. I’m his out. The visions are his out.
I haven’t had to analyze this magic in a long while. Not since the hotel. I’ve just been enjoying the benefits of it, the me and Jamie part, but that conversation was a reminder of what’s still left unsettled.
Ever since that night Jamie confessed why he partnered with Wes in the first place, I’ve been worried that maybe he’s giving the magic more credit than he’s giving himself. Maybe that’s the same thing as what Wes said. Coddling that stubborn part of him .
But Jamie doesn’t just think this is fate. He knows it is. We know it is. The things I saw came true—Fortune, me and him—and he has every right to bet on this even if I never have another one.
Except the little pieces that are different. The ones he doesn’t know about .
“Noe?”
“Hmm?” Jamie’s said something to me that I missed because I’m staring at his hand wrapped around the pint glass. The scar on the back of it seems to stare back at me.
“Do you like it?” He nods at the beer in my hand, his winter ale. He’s launching it tomorrow.
I shake away my train of thought and smile at him. “I love it.”
Jamie’s friend Greg smiles at us over his pint with a look I recognize. There’s no denying the meaning behind it. It’s the look I gave Kate the first summer I met Colin. It’s the “ my friend is happy, so I am too” smile.
My stomach cinches again. I wonder what Greg would think about Wes’s way of looking at this. If my part caused more harm than good.
Jamie’s relaxed, his palm flat on my stomach, head tipped back in the booth. If he has any inkling his brother is on the warpath tonight, he’s hiding it well. Maybe Wes has turned his sights completely on me.
After the last customers cash out, leaving just our little group, Em turns off the sign and joins us. She takes the seat next to Greg, across from me, and as if she’s tapped into some Girl Code instinct, she lifts an eyebrow in a silent Everything okay ? gesture.
I nod back with a forced smile because what’s bothering me isn’t exactly something I can have a quick chat in the bathroom about. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about it at all.
I lean my head back and whisper in Jamie’s ear. “I think I’m going to go to bed.” I’m suddenly exhausted to my core, the beer pulling my eyelids down like a dumbwaiter.
“Okay.” Jamie looks at his full beer, then up at me. “I’ll just finish this.”
“No, stay,” I tell him, cupping his face.
He glances at the back door that leads to his loft. “You’ll sleep here, though?”
I nod. I’d already planned on sleeping here tonight.
“Are you sure?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Okay, I’ll only be a little while.”
It feels like minutes, but it must be hours later when my eyes snap open at the sound of the front door opening.
The quick flash of middle of the night fear melts away when I recognize the sound of Jamie’s palm on the wall, then his sneakers hitting the floor.
I turn to watch him pad across the room on bare feet, the rest of his clothes peeled off and dropped like breadcrumbs in the glow of the nightlight in the kitchen.
“Hi,” I whisper, my voice scratchy with sleep. I roll to my side and lift the blankets.
Jamie slides in, gathering me in his arms. “Hi, baby. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“What time is it?”
He presses his mouth to my hair. “One.”
“You stayed late.”
“Is that okay?”
“Of course.” I nuzzle into his neck and breathe him in. “Just missing you. You know watching you play always gets me hot and bothered.”
He hums quietly, thumb stroking up and down my spine. “I played hard for you tonight,” he says. “I’m sore everywhere.”
I shake my head, laughing at his wildly transparent attempt at convincing me to put my hands all over him. He knows I’m powerless to let him hurt, and he’s always so grateful for touch. “Come here.”
He shifts lower, swapping our heights so he can bury his face in my chest. “I love you,” he whispers into my cleavage while I knead where his shoulder meets his neck, and my heart fills like a balloon.
He’s beautiful in this low light. The shadow in the grooves of his muscles makes them look like they’ve been sketched.
His dark hair flopped onto his forehead like ink on canvas.
It’s no hardship, soothing Jamie’s body.
“I love you too,” I tell him, tasting those words again. Savoring them. I press my face to the crown of his head. “Even when you smell like a brewery.”
He laughs with a surprised jerk of his chin, dimple winking at me like I’d hoped. Then he hooks my leg with his and rubs his chest over me.
“Stop!” I giggle. “I showered. I smell like lavender and chamomile.”
“You did smell like lavender and chamomile,” he says. I laugh and squirm, but he doesn’t let go. “Now you smell like beer and lavender.”
I go boneless with a half giggle, half sigh of defeat. “Fine. I still love you.”
“Noe?”
“Mmm?”
His hands are already pulling my shorts down my legs, and I arch to meet him. “Will you love me with your body?”
He settles in the cradle of my hips, pulling a yes from deep within my chest. I can’t imagine a time I would turn him down. Like stars in the same constellation, we’re made to be together, side by side.
When we finish, it’s nearly dawn, the dark outside at its heaviest, just before it tips toward light.
Jamie and I have done some sort of body swap, though, because while he’s beside me, stock still except for the repetitive brush of his thumb over his sternum, I’m restless and too hot.
I hate that Wes’s words have made it through sleep and sex, and still sit here, muscling between us.
Flopping onto my stomach, I kick a leg out, and Jamie lifts his head to look at me.
“Come here.” He hooks my waist with his arm and pulls me under his weight. “Why are you fidgeting? It’s like sleeping next to me.”
I laugh softly and roll again so we’re face to face. Wrapping my arms around him, I let my fingers dance over the tattoo on his shoulder. Tracing it from memory.
“I think you like that one the best,” he says, eyes closed. “You’re always touching it.”
I swallow. “What made you get it?”
He shrugs lazily. “I wanted something that would cover my whole shoulder. I wanted blue ink. I like the beach.”
I don’t expect the mild disappointment that settles in. I’m not sure what I wanted out of bringing this up now, but if there was some grand story behind why it’s different, then maybe I’d glean some lesson about this whole thing.
But it seems like it was a whim. Not exactly careless, but a decision that didn’t require any thought. Just poof . Different.
I push him onto his back and prop myself on my elbows above him. “Have you decided what you’ll do about your offer? From NEBev. It’s almost the end of the year.”
“Uh—” I know he wasn’t expecting to talk business right now and his brain is slow to change lanes. “I guess I’m maintaining my avoidance strategy for now?” It’s a question. He has no plan. He’s waiting just like Wes thinks. My shoulders fall.
“But have you been thinking about it? What you want.”
“Of course. That’s all I think about, besides you.” He gives my butt a light slap, and it echoes in the dark. He’s distracting. Deflecting.
I sigh. “I haven’t had a vision about your career since that first night, Jamie.”
“I know.” He’s quiet for a minute. “You still could, though. I mean, we don’t know.”
“Right.” I pull my lip between my teeth. “And if I do have one about the offer, that’s how you’ll make your decision?”
“Why are we pillow-talking about corporate acquisitions, Noel?”
“I was just thinking that’s how all of this started, and it’s sort of still hanging over us.”
“I think it started when I managed to pitch a semi with two broken ribs and a concussion.” His grin is mischief. Unserious. “God, that tank top you had on when you threatened me with your shoe.”
“Jamie.”
He seems to catch on that I’m not joking, and he tightens his grip, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Noel, I told you that first night, there’s no pressure.”
Right. And I didn’t believe it then either. I turn my chin, but he guides it back. “This offer is hanging over me . I love the way you take care of me, baby, but I don’t want you losing sleep over this.”
“I just don’t want to disappoint you if I can’t do it.
” Or be your out if I can . My voice catches and I bury my nose in his neck.
God, Wes is a dick for putting this in my head.
Everything was perfect a few hours ago. Jamie and I have come so far from our supernatural start, but maybe there are still consequences left to discover, more layers to peel away, more questions.
It was naive of me to think following the universe would stop being confusing.
I look up to see Jamie’s face has fallen, dimples disappearing into a serious expression that’s so rare, it jolts me. He presses his thumb to my bottom lip. “You believe in me, don’t you, Noel?”
“Yes, of course .”
“Then I don’t need anything else.” He strokes my hair until my head falls to his chest. “Besides, even if you don’t have another vision, we still have the first one, from the roof. If that’s all I have to go on, it seems to have worked out pretty well.”
I’m quiet for a moment, considering this and all of the what ifs we still don’t have answers for. An idea comes to me. “Roll over.”
He does, burying his face in the pillow while I stretch to the nightstand where he keeps a pen and paper. I uncap the pen with my teeth, and Jamie stiffens when the cold tip touches his skin. “What’re you doing?”
“Drawing your next tattoo.”
His head lifts from the pillow, peering over his shoulder. “What is it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I say, sketching between his shoulder blades.
“It feels like a flower.”
I pinch his side. “You’re no fun!”
“I’m sorry,” he says, laughing. “I’ll stop guessing.”
“It’s an iris.” I draw the beard of it, then swoop a line down his spine for the stem. “Flowers have different meanings. This one means wisdom to make hard choices.” Another swoop. “In case I don’t have another vision to help you.”
He’s face down in the pillow, but I see the corner of his mouth curl. “So damn sweet.”