Chapter 31 #2
Not long later, Jamie piloted the small pontoon boat away from the party’s enthusiastic splashing and toward the lake’s serene depths. The last time they’d been out this far, she ended up soaking wet and sobbing.
The memory made her grip the handrail on her seat a little tighter.
Jamie slowed the boat to a stop and flipped a few controls.
He meticulously checked all the illuminated screens on his navigation panel.
Opening a compartment on the bow, he pulled out an anchor, then dropped it overboard.
He did it all like it was second nature.
She couldn’t stop staring at his hands as they moved, among other things.
When he finished, he turned to face her. “Can I fix you a drink? I grabbed water, beer, and Cokes.”
He strode toward the large cooler opposite her seat.
“Water would be great,” she said, taking the bottle from him. She was sweating through her cover-up but didn’t dare to whip it off. She’d practically be naked in her bikini. Not that he’d judge her body, but that was still…a lot. For now.
He pulled a bottle out for himself, shut the cooler, and sat down across from her.
“You know, my jaw’s still sore from kissing you last night,” he said, smiling shyly. “But I’m more than willing to go a few more rounds.”
Heat crept up her cheeks as she grinned back at him. “Tempting as that is, I told Sammi we’d be discreet.”
“Well, lucky for us, we have all night.”
“Lucky me.” She squeezed his knee, and he bit his bottom lip. She wanted to do the same, but instead leaned back into her seat. “Before we start the interview, I wanted to give you something for your birthday. That’s why I was late.”
His eyes warmed, and her heart grew a few sizes. “Bee, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Oh, you needed this. Trust me.” Brinton whipped out her phone from her purse and tapped a few buttons. “I’m texting it to you now.”
Jamie’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, then grinned at the screen.
“‘Good Ass R&B’…you made me a playlist? Janet Jackson, SWV and Sade…Lots and lots of Sade.” He beamed.
“‘Cherish the Day’ is my favorite song. It’s life-changing,” she offered. “Nineties R&B has all the elite hits.”
Eyes drifting to the screen, his brows lifted. “And Paramore?”
“Everybody loves Paramore. It’s a known fact.”
He laughed, hands playfully raised in defense. “I love it, Brinton. Thank you.”
Hearing him say love made her battered little heart flutter.
“Can I hug you?” he asked.
She nodded, transfixed by his eyes refracting the sun like turquoise glitter.
He pulled Brinton into his chest, engulfing her in his spicy-whiskey scent, which was now spiked with a sunblock chaser. She could get drunk on it.
Or do something incredibly foolish. Like lick him.
Gripping her shoulder with one hand, Jamie squeezed her hip with the other.
It was so warm and familiar, especially now that she understood people in Iris hugged like it was their profession.
He let her go, almost too soon for her liking, and they returned to their seats.
Neither was in a rush, because they beheld each other. Eagerly awaiting the other’s next move.
“Is there anything off-limits—for the interview, I mean,” she stammered.
“Nope. Ask me whatever you want.”
She pulled her recorder from her purse, turned it on, and set it on the cushion beside her. “What fulfills you as an artist?”
Jamie scanned the waterline. He looked back at her and nodded, as if giving her permission to meet him at his most vulnerable.
“I love talking about real life. The good, the bad—everything in between. I think that’s why people fall in love with country music.
Why I fell in love with it, anyway. My father is one of the great country songwriters of our time.
A lot of his early hits were about his relationship with my mom.
They got together when he first got signed. ”
“She was fresh out of high school and waiting tables at a diner in town,” Jamie continued.
“My dad wrote a lot about how lonely it was on the road and how he feared she would eventually leave him for somebody more…available. He feared I would forget him because he was gone so much. But that’s the real shit, you know?
What keeps me going is that, one day, I’ll share something that helps someone else too.
Even if it’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. ”
“Like what?”
He looked down at the boat’s sandy deck. “Like when my mom died.”
Brinton held the space for him as he exhaled softly. “No one talks about this, but I wanna tell you because I trust you’ll know how to use it. To get my story out there in a way that’s authentic. Tell the truth.”
His eyes drifted to hers. “Everyone thinks my mom died in an accident, that she’d fallen asleep in the tub.
My mom had troubles, and with my father gone so often, life got dark for her.
She tried to hide it, but I think she felt like she’d paused her whole life for him.
One day, when I was thirteen, I came home late after football practice.
But there was an ambulance outside. The police wouldn’t let me see her, no matter how hard I screamed and fought. Tex just held me back.”
“My father wasn’t even supposed to be there, but he had come home early from the city to beat a storm that was rolling in.
He was the one who found her. I overheard him tell Tex that paramedics saw her sleeping pills by the tub.
Even then, as a kid, I didn’t think it was an accident.
Who takes sleeping pills in the middle of the day?
But she was in a lot of pain. That night, I was too. ”
“Jamie,” Brinton breathed, shaking her head. “If this is too hard—”
He shook his head. “I wanna tell you. I need to,” Jamie added, roughly rubbing his fist against his lips, as if summoning the willpower to continue.
“Later that night, I stole my dad’s truck keys.
Had no idea where I was going. I just couldn’t be there.
It was so fucking reckless of me, but I didn’t know what else to do.
It’d started to rain hard, and I couldn’t drive for shit, and it was so dark out.
I slammed into a tree. Gave myself a nice little concussion.
Thankfully, my dad found me, took me to the hospital.
But I saw something change in him. He’d lost all trust in me, I think.
Couldn’t blame him. I’d put him through hell, on the worst night of his life.
We never recovered from that. A part of us died that night too. ”
“But everything happens for a reason, right?” he asked. Jamie’s voice sounded hoarse, like a bitter pill had become lodged in his throat.
“I miss my mom every damn day, but I rest easier knowing she’s not hurting anymore. And I thank God for my mamaw, who helped me process it all. That, and therapy.”
“You go to therapy?”
“Briefly, after my mom died. Mamaw is big into looking after yourself and wanted to make sure I was coping. I probably should’ve kept up with it, but my dad…He thought telling strangers your problems was”—Jamie used air quotes—“self-indulgent. So, I found other ways to deal.”
“What did you do?”
“Mostly whiskey and women.” Jamie scoffed. “Clearly, I got more healing to do, because talking about her is agonizing. Sometimes, I feel guilty, like if I could have done more to protect my mom, she’d still be here. But I learned in therapy that guilt is a natural part of the healing process.”
He smiled at her. It was pained, but she recognized that feeling.
“Do you think talking to your dad now might help?” Brinton asked.
Jamie tutted. “That would take a miracle. Or, another tragedy. But a few nights ago, I wrote a song about my mom for the first time. Kind of like this letter asking her all the questions I never could. If she were here, I’d want to learn everything she could teach me about being a better man.”
“Oh, Jamie…” Brinton whispered, the sting of fresh tears swelling behind her eyes. He moved to sit next to her and squeezed her knee.
“Hey, it’s okay—I’m okay. People in town pity me because I didn’t have any siblings, and my father never remarried.
It’s probably why everyone around me felt like they needed to micromanage every detail of my life.
But I think it would have been worse if my dad had moved on.
It would have been this constant point of conversation with each new person who came into our lives. ”
He clicked his tongue, his gaze miles away. “Instead, we buried it. And I turned out fine, right?”
“I-I’m so deeply sorry,” Brinton stuttered.
His gaze found hers again. “Please, don’t feel sorry for me. That’s not why I told you. I told you so you’d know why I do what I do.”
In that moment, she understood what made Jamie tick, what he needed most but couldn’t get from his father or his team. He needed someone to listen to him. Brinton’s own mother always said that her empathy was her greatest strength. Brinton liked to think it also made her good at her job.
She was grateful for the opportunity to hear him now.
“Are you going to record the song about your mom?”
Jamie sighed and dragged a hand over his jaw.
“I don’t know if it will see the light of day.
It doesn’t fit the…” He looked again to the water, as if on an expedition for the right words.
“It doesn’t quite feel or sound like what most people expect from me.
I’ll need time to make something I know will land. ”
“Isn’t that the point of starting over? Subverting those expectations? You could release the song as a demo, test the waters? A twelve-year-old Soundcloud rapper can do it. Why can’t you?”
His body tensed, and the easy smile on his lips flattened. She recalled their first conversation on the lake, how he reacted the same way to her questioning his songwriting. But this time, she knew how easily triggered he could be when pushed. She didn’t want that for him either.
“Darlin’, it ain’t that easy. I wish it were. What if the song is no good? What if I have to go crawling back to my father?”
She touched his knee, willing him to look at her. “You have to try, at least. Promise me that.”
Jamie shot her a defeated look, raked both hands through his glistening waves.
“Brinton, I appreciate you, but please—could we drop it for now?”
“Of course.”
It broke her heart to see him second-guess himself. Did he think she was projecting her own anxiety onto him? Just like she’d done with Eli, who blamed her for never leaving well enough alone? Brinton’s spine stiffened at the memory.
She pulled out her phone and took videos of the lake to distract herself, convinced that in his next breath, Jamie would push her away too.
Yet, to her surprise, his warm hands circled her waist. She probably should have wriggled away. They were still in view of the shore. Instead, she melted into his chest, soothed by his warm, soft breaths against her cheek.
“Thank you for believing in me, Bee,” he whispered.
“Thank you for giving me something to believe in,” she answered. Brinton held out her arm, snapping a picture of them together.
When she checked the screen, she didn’t care that the frame was lop-sided and her eyes were closed. He flashed a boundless smile, more at ease than she’d seen before. She felt the same way.
“You wanna go for a swim?” he asked. “I know last time we were on this lake, you were understandably freaked out, so—”
Brinton didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I do.”