26. Jami
Jami
Churchill Falls is quieter this evening.
Brody’s headlights sweep over shrinking snowbanks as the low glow of the small airport fades behind us.
I stifle a yawn, exhaustion finally winning.
I didn’t sleep well last night. Maybe it was the strange town, the strange bed.
Or maybe it was because I had to kiss a damn cod.
I can’t help smiling at the memory.
“Something funny?” Brody asks as we navigate the narrow road. Jaxon shifts uncomfortably beside me—the flight home hadn’t been easy on him. At least Frank didn’t dive-bomb us to point out wildlife.
“I guess I still can’t believe I kissed a cod.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. The taste is long gone, but I pretend it’s still there.
“No man is ever going to kiss you after that,” Brody teases.
“Good,” Jaxon chimes in. “The last thing she needs is a man in her life right now. Isn’t that right, sis?”
“That’s right,” I say, aiming for normal. It doesn’t sound normal at all. I cover my mouth and blame the wobble on a yawn.
Silence settles over us. I notice Brody rubbing at the scruff on his chin, like something’s weighing on him. My eyes grow heavy, slipping shut, then flying open when he breaks the quiet.
“Jami, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”
What the what?
My heart stutters—once, twice.
I snap my gaze to him. He flicks me a quick look before returning his attention to the road. “Jaxon needs his bed,” he adds, and my pulse kicks up all over again.
“Oh. Right.” I laugh too quickly. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. But no, I’ll take the couch.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“You’re taking my room. You’re exhausted, and you have an early class tomorrow. Plus we have practice in the afternoon and you have evening childcare.”
Hearing all that exhausts me even more, but in a weird way also invigorates me, gives me purpose.
“You won’t get any sleep on the couch.”
“But I thought it was comfortable. Jaxon said he and the couch were bros.”
He casts me a look that suggests I might be dense, and I guess I am. Jaxon took the couch to accommodate me. It’s not comfortable. Honestly, I have the best big brother a girl could ever ask for, and how do I repay him for all he’s doing…
Deceit.
Sneaking around with his best friend.
That’s how.
Maybe I never should have come here—a place that is really growing on me, a place that is truly beginning to feel like home.
As my stomach knots, I open my mouth to argue, knowing it’s pointless, but he cuts in. “I’ll talk to Mr. Cheeseman tomorrow. See if he can light a fire under housing and get you into your apartment sooner rather than later.”
“I don’t… I’m not…” My words trail off, because the truth is I am staying longer than planned, now that Jaxon needs me to take his place on the team, and I want to showcase my designs at the tournament.
“That’s probably a good idea,” I finally say.
“I’m tired of smelling stinky pickleball socks and shoes by the front door. ”
I try to make a joke of it, but something twists in my chest. A strange, unwelcome feeling, like I’m being edged out. Like maybe whatever this thing is between Brody and me is starting to burn out.
Or maybe it’s just memory rearing its ugly head. The way things ended with Tristan. The way he pushed me out of my own business—my own home—while quietly planning a life with someone else.
Brody isn’t Tristan.
He’s probably just trying to do what’s best for everyone.
I tell myself that, and try to believe it.
Brody pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine.
“Home sweet home,” Jaxon mumbles as he opens the door.
I swallow. Because somehow, those words make my chest tighten. Because once again I’m reminded how easily home can be taken away—how I won’t be living in this one much longer either.
Why am I dredging up memories that still hurt?
I must just be tired.
I follow Jaxon out of the truck. “Careful, it’s icy.”
“Don’t I know it,” he jokes, and I hurry ahead to open the door. Brody stays with him, making sure he’s steady. Once inside, Jaxon yawns. The painkillers are taking their toll.
“Bologna sandwich?” Brody asks, and Jaxon laughs.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Brody gestures with a nod to the stairs. “Why don’t you go up, get settled, and I’ll bring it to you.”
“Thanks, bud.”
“Just let me grab my things first,” I blurt, hurrying ahead.
The man would be scarred for life if he discovered the toy I’ve stashed in his nightstand—a toy I never even needed.
Not with the real thing sneaking into my bed.
But there will be no more sneaking now, because I won’t be living here much longer.
I rush to my brother’s room, quickly gather my few things, and dump them on Brody’s bed. Jaxon crutches up the stairs, each step banging against the wood. I follow him into the bedroom as pots and pans clatter downstairs.
I pull the bedding back for him and lean his crutches on the nightstand. He grunts as he settles into bed, the coils creaking.
“You want a pillow under your knee?”
“Yeah, thanks, sis.”
I fluff a pillow and slide it gently beneath his leg. A thought hits me. “Did you call Mom and Dad to tell them what happened?”
He snorts a humorless laugh. “Why? So they could tell me what a mistake it was coming here?”
I drop onto the bed beside him, taking his hand. “I really wish they could see what you’ve built here, Jaxon. They should be so proud.”
“They should be proud of you too,” he says. “At least they’d be happy to see me putting my business degree to use…and your childhood education degree. You’re doing great things for the social.”
“I love it there,” I admit before I can stop myself, and he cocks his head, a knowing grin on his face.
“Did I just hear what I think I heard? Or are these meds really that good?”
I laugh. “I think it’s the meds.”
“Admit it, Jami. This place is growing on you.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Like a bad wart.” He cocks a brow and wanting to make him laugh I continue.
“You know, one of those stubborn little plantar warts. They hang around like they own the place. No treatment helps. Freezing. Salicylic acid, not even duct tape. The kind of wart that sends passive-aggressive emails like—Thanks for the foot soak, but I’m staying. ”
He chuckles. “You know too much about warts.” He adjusts his pillow. “Tell me about your new line.”
Excitement bubbles up inside me. “Oh, my patch logos came in and I can’t wait to show you everything.”
“I can’t wait.” He covers his mouth as he yawns. “But can it wait until tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”
“Of course.” I lean down to kiss his forehead, then turn just as Brody appears in the doorway.
He looks hesitant as his worried gaze goes back and forth between the two of us. “Am I interrupting—”
“If you have bologna sandwiches, you’re not interrupting anything,” Jaxon says, his stomach growling.
Brody laughs and sets a plate with four sandwiches and a glass of water on the nightstand.
Jaxon drools. “Marry me,” he jokes.
Brody laughs. “Sorry, dude. Not my type.”
Jaxon chuckles. “Yeah, not mine either. But sis, if you ever get married, get a good guy like Brody. I don’t know why he’s still single.
” He gives a garbled laugh. “I’m sure his mom will fix that soon now that Elise is back in town.
” He frowns and looks down, like he’s pulling something from the back of his mind.
His glossy gaze shoots to Brody. “Oh…shit. Sorry, Brody. I don’t know why I’m saying that. ”
I gulp and push to my feet, needing air. Just then, Brody’s phone pings. He doesn’t pull it out. Probably doesn’t want us to see it’s Elise. Again.
I start toward the door, struggling to get the whirlwind of emotions I wish I didn’t feel in check. “I’ll let you eat and get some sleep.”
“Before you crash, I need to grab a few things,” Brody calls, pointing to his room.
I nod and head downstairs, the need for a minute alone pressing hard against my ribs. In the kitchen, I fill the kettle and set it on the stove. It might have been a long day but I think I’m going to need some Sleepytime tea to settle my brain.
As the water heats, I drift into the living room and place my phone on the coffee table. I sit and stare at it as if that will make it ring. When it doesn’t, I snatch it up and dial my best friend.
I need someone. Someone who knows the whole messy story of my life. Someone who understands how sideways things have gone and can tell me what to do—or at least tell me I’m not completely screwing everything up.
It rings. And rings. And rings.
Just when I’m about to hang up, her voice bursts through the speaker.
“Jami!” she yells over thumping music and loud laughter.
“Where are you?” I ask, clamping my free hand over my ear even though the house around me is dead quiet.
“Out at Sam’s pub,” she says. “With some girls from work—and Caleb.”
I sit up a little straighter. “Who’s Caleb?”
The music fades slightly, like she’s moved toward the hallway or outside. “He’s my new guy,” she says, her voice softening, followed by a little laugh.
I smile. She sounds… happy. Really happy.
“When did that happen?” I ask.
“A couple weeks ago.”
“What’s he like?” The question slips out easily, as I try to hide the strange sense that I’m hearing about a life I’m no longer part of.
“Oh, he’s so nice,” she says. “He’s a nurse. Just moved here from Victoria. Works with us at the hospital.”
I’m happy for her. I really am. But my stomach twists anyway.
Lauren has always known who she was. She decided she wanted to be a psychiatric nurse when we were kids and never wavered—not when it was hard, not when it was exhausting.
Her parents supported her every step of the way. She didn’t drift. She didn’t flounder.
She built a life.
I hear another female voice in the background, followed by Lauren’s laughter. “Just a sec,” she says, then her words go muffled, clearly meant for someone else. Not me.
“Sorry about that,” she apologizes when she comes back.
“It’s okay,” I reply quickly. Too quickly. “You’re busy. Go have fun.”