16 francesca
I whirl at the sound behind me.
For half a second, my body reacts before my brain catches up- heart slamming, breath sucked out of my chest.
Jamie.
He’s standing in the doorway, shirtless, his dark, almost black hair wild, eyes unfocused like he’s been dragged out of sleep or a fight- or both. He’s shirtless, displaying all his tattoos- some familiar, some new. And I swear he’s bigger than before.
For one reckless, stupid beat, all I can think is God, he’s beautiful.
Then reality crashes in.
He looks feral.
I’m not afraid of him, not really. But I see nothing but rage and grief and exhaustion in his face.
“Jamie,” I say, my voice thin and wobbly.
His whole body stills, like he’s been stunned, his eyes locked on mine.
Neither of us speaks.
The alarm is still chirping behind him but it fades into the background until there’s nothing left but him. Just this impossible moment stretching between us.
I don’t move closer. I don’t step back. I just stand there, frozen.
I know what he’s going to ask before he does. It doesn’t make me ready for it.
“Why?” he says, his voice breaking on the edge of a sob.
Because leaving was the only way I knew how to keep them safe. Because loving them felt like putting targets on their backs. Because I loved them too much to allow them to give up any part of their lives to save me.
I don’t say any of that. Instead, I stutter out, “I- I didn’t know how to stay.”
Jamie swallows hard and blinks slowly.
“You’re real,” he says hoarsely. “You’re here.”
And suddenly it’s imperative that I make it clear this isn’t a reunion. This isn’t some homecoming.
“I can’t… I didn’t mean for you to find me.”
His jaw tightens, and I can see the anger and sadness and confusion rising again, fighting to get out.
“I just came back for Gram,” I add quietly.
He exhales, a flash of something else- sadness, maybe- crossing his face.
He takes a step toward me, then stops himself. His hands curl into fists at his sides.
“Gram isn’t here. She- she- ” he starts.
“I know,” I whisper, tears burning my eyes.
“Fuck,” he says, and somehow that single word carries a thousand emotions.
He moves again- stumbles, almost- and I barely have time to react before he drops to his knees in front of me.
My breath catches as his arms wrap around me, tight, desperate, like he’s trying to keep me there by holding me close. He presses his face into my stomach and I realize he’s crying- full, raw sobs tearing out of him, his whole body shaking.
And I just stand there for a second, stunned, my hands hovering uselessly before finally coming down to his shoulders.
And that’s how Christian finds us when he comes barreling through the open door.