Chapter 13
Thirteen
Jamie saw her the second the door swung open: jeans, leather jacket, hair loose. Erin caught the way her eyes went wide before she tried to cover it with a sip of beer.
Erin’s own mouth curved without her permission. She crossed the bar, boots steady on the worn floorboards, and slid into the chair across from her. Up close, she noticed the pile of damp paper scraps pushed off to the side of Jamie’s glass.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Erin said, nodding at the mess. “That label didn’t stand a chance, huh?”
Jamie groaned, balling the shredded pieces into her fist. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Erin leaned her chin into her hand, smirking just enough to tease. “Jamie Garrison, fearless on camera, undone by a beer bottle. Who would’ve thought?”
Jamie narrowed her eyes at her, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away.
The waitress came by, and Erin ordered a beer, giving herself a moment to breathe. Out of uniform, across from Jamie like this, it felt different. Easier in some ways, harder in others. She hadn’t decided which.
Erin set her beer on the table, fingers loose around the glass. Jamie was still worrying at the shredded label on her bottle, like it might unravel into a script if she pulled long enough.
“So,” Jamie said finally, dragging the word out, “is this your Thursday night routine? Brief the press, terrify reporters, then charm them into buying you a drink?”
Erin raised an eyebrow. “Charm them?”
Jamie flushed, backpedaling fast. “I meant… you know, the way you get up there. That voice. It’s…” She waved her hand vaguely. “Commanding.”
Erin leaned forward just enough to watch Jamie squirm. “You like commanding?”
Jamie’s mouth opened, then closed again, her words apparently gone missing. She tried to cover it with a sip of beer, but her ears were already pink.
“Relax,” Erin said, letting a grin slip. “I’m teasing you.”
Jamie groaned into the bottle. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” Erin countered, sitting back again, steady and self-assured, “you’re still here.”
That got Jamie to glance up, cheeks warm, lips pressed tight against a smile she didn’t want to show. Erin took another drink, pretending not to notice.
For a moment, the noise of the bar filled in around them: laughter from the next table, the clink of glasses, a burst of bass from the jukebox. Erin tilted her head, watching Jamie pick at the scraps of paper. “You settling in okay? To Boston, I mean.”
Jamie blinked, caught off guard by the shift. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I think so. Still learning my way around. Still feel like the new kid most days.”
Erin’s mouth softened. “You don’t sound like it when you’re working. You walk into a scene like you own the place.”
Jamie snorted. “Please. Half the time I’m just praying no one notices I’m winging it.”
Erin smiled, and this time it wasn’t sharp or teasing. “Well, you fake it really well.”
Jamie froze for half a beat, then blurted before she could stop herself, “I’ve never faked it.”
The words hung there. Her eyes went wide, like she was already trying to grab them back out of the air. “Oh my god. I mean… work. At work. I’ve never faked it at work.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m just gonna shut up now.”
Erin bit back a laugh, shaking her head. “That’s one way to make an impression.”
Jamie peeked through her fingers, mortified. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Erin said, but there was more warmth than bite in it. She tipped her beer toward Jamie in a mock toast. “To unfiltered honesty.”
Jamie groaned but clinked her bottle against Erin’s anyway. “You’re the worst.”
“Probably,” Erin admitted. Then she sat back, giving Jamie room to breathe. The jukebox kicked into something upbeat, and for a while they just let the noise of the bar fill in the silence.
When Jamie finally set her bottle down, her shoulders looked looser, like the tension had drained out with her embarrassment. “Okay,” she said, almost daring Erin to challenge her. “Your turn. Tell me something dumb about you, so I don’t feel like the only disaster at this table.”
Erin raised a brow. “Define dumb.”
“Something you don’t usually admit,” Jamie pressed, pointing her bottle cap at her. “C’mon. Fair’s fair.”
Erin hesitated, thumb brushing condensation off her glass. She wasn’t in the habit of giving things away, but Jamie’s grin, still a little self-conscious, made it harder to dodge.
“I talk to Leo more than I talk to most people,” she admitted finally, her voice quieter than before. “Some nights he’s the only one who hears me out.”
Jamie tilted her head. “Leo?”
“My dog,” Erin said, and instantly wished she hadn’t. It sounded too soft, too much like a confession. She took a long sip of beer to cover it.
But Jamie’s mouth curved, slow and warm. “Of course it’s your dog. I should’ve guessed.”
“Why?” Erin asked, defensive without meaning to.
Jamie shrugged, eyes glinting. “You just don’t strike me as the houseplant type. A dog makes more sense. Loyal, stubborn, probably keeps you on your toes.”
Erin raised a brow, fighting the twitch of a smile. “Careful. You’re not wrong, but he doesn’t need an ego boost.”
Jamie leaned in a little, chin propped on her hand. “Now I kinda want to meet him. See if he’s as bossy as you say.”
The words hit Erin harder than they should have, not just the interest in Leo, but the casual way Jamie said meet him, like being part of Erin’s world was an option. Erin cleared her throat, setting her glass down with deliberate care. “We’ll see if you earn the privilege.”
Jamie laughed, but there was a flicker of pink at her ears, and Erin knew she’d landed that one.
Jamie twirled the shredded label between her fingers, hesitated, then blurted, “So… what’s the deal with you and Tilly?”
Erin froze for half a beat, the question hitting harder than she expected. She leaned back, buying herself time with a sip of beer. “That obvious, huh?”
Jamie winced. “Kind of. They go stiff every time you’re around. And you… well, you don’t exactly light up either.”
Erin let out a quiet breath, eyes fixed on the glass in her hand. “We have a… let’s say complicated history.” She hesitated, then added, softer, “It was personal. And messy.”
Jamie blinked, startled by the honesty. “Oh.”
“That’s all you’re getting tonight,” Erin said quickly, forcing a faint smile.
Jamie studied her, careful not to press, and Erin should have been relieved. Instead, she caught herself wishing Jamie would ask again, just to keep her talking.
She curled her hand around her bottle, letting the condensation seep into her skin, and forced herself to look away.
The last thing she needed was to open doors that should stay shut.
Still, the thought lingered, stubborn and unwelcome: it had been a long time since anyone made her want to share anything at all.
Across the table, Jamie plucked at the shredded label and gave her a small, lopsided smile, like she was trying to ease the silence. Erin felt it hit low in her chest, warm and dangerous, and she took another drink before she said something she couldn’t take back.