24. Jamie #4
I press him closer, needing the weight of him against me, needing proof that he’s solid and warm and actually here, not another dream I’ll wake up from reaching for empty air.
When we finally separate, both of us breathing hard, I keep my forehead against his, unable to create even an inch of distance. His eyes are bright and slightly unfocused, his lips swollen from kissing, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too,” he whispers back, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone.
His eyes move over my face as though he’s checking for every change the last four months might have left behind, cataloging differences, comparing memory to reality. His thumb brushes beneath my eye, tracing the skin there with careful attention.
“Nice goal, Seventeen,” he says softly, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“You were watching?” Surprise colors my voice because somehow, in all of this, I hadn’t thought to ask.
“I saw every second.” Pride warms his expression, making his eyes bright. “You were great out there.”
“I could have played better,” I reply automatically, still reeling from how poorly I felt I’d performed tonight, how many chances I’d missed before that final goal.
Blue’s eyes narrow with the kind of protective irritation I’ve learned to recognize. “You scored the game-winner with one second on the clock. We all have off moments. I won’t let you ruin this by talking bad about the man I love.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it, surprised by his fierce defense. I kiss the corner of his mouth, then the other, unwilling to create more than an inch of distance between us now that I have him back.
The question is already waiting though. I hate that I have to ask it. I hate that our reunions have become measured in hours and nights and whatever time someone else’s schedule allows us to keep.
“How long do we have?” I pull back just enough to look into his eyes, already bracing myself for disappointment, for another too-short visit that will end with him disappearing again.
Blue’s expression changes, the smile remains but something knowing and almost mischievous slips into it. “That depends.”
My stomach tightens with familiar dread. “On what?”
He slides his hands down the front of my suit jacket with deliberate slowness, his fingers trace the lapels before smoothing them flat against my chest.
“How do you feel about helping me choose a house?” he asks, and the satisfaction in his voice is unmistakable.
I stare at him as the words take a moment to arrange themselves into something I can understand. A house. Here. In Seattle. Not another hotel room, not another temporary rental, not another place for him to sleep between flights back to Los Angeles.
He said house. The implications hit me like a freight train, permanence, proximity.
My shock lasts only a few seconds before something else barrels straight through it, something possessive and certain and completely unwilling to negotiate.
I look down the corridor to make sure we’re still alone. The security guards have moved out of sight, and the stretch of concrete between us and the exit is empty except for the two of us.
I crowd Blue backward until his shoulders meet the wall, planting one hand beside his head while the other closes around his waist, caging him between my body and the cold concrete.
“There is only one house you’ll be staying in,” I growl, letting every bit of possessive need lace my voice. “Mine.”
His eyes brighten with amusement and something softer beneath it, something that looks like relief and joy. “Are you telling me I live with you now?”
“I guess I am,” I say, daring him to argue, daring him to suggest any other arrangement.
The smile he gives me is wide and beautiful and full of promises I’ve been waiting months to hear. He nods his head in what looks like approval, like this is exactly what he was hoping I would say.
I kiss him then, no more words necessary, pouring everything I have into the connection between us.
Every night I fell asleep staring at his face on a screen, pixelated and two-dimensional.
Every call that ended too soon because of schedules and obligations and the cruel mathematics of distance.
Every morning I woke up reaching for someone who was hundreds of miles away.
Every ounce of love, frustration, longing, hope, and need I’ve carried through the last three months goes into the way I hold him against that wall and kiss him like I never intend to let distance take him from me again.
Blue gives all of it back with interest. His hands grip my jacket and pull me closer while his body presses into mine, his mouth opening beneath mine with the same hunger that has kept me awake more nights than I can count.
When he finally breaks the kiss, both of us are breathing hard, both of us slightly unsteady on our feet. He cups my face between his hands and looks directly into my eyes, all the teasing gone from his expression, replaced by something so honest and open it takes my breath away.
“I’m home, Jamie,” he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of a promise. “I’m home.”