Chapter 12 #2
“J? What’s wrong?” Ellie put her plate down on the table and moved next to him on the couch. “What the fuck?”
Pressing shaky palms to his eyes, Jamie snorted. “Is that what you say to your patients? What the fuck?”
“Are you a patient right now?” Ellie said seriously. “What’s happening? Are you panicking?”
A soft hand rubbed his back as he tried to breathe. Fuck this, he would not panic. He just needed a second to collect himself. He was fine. Totally fucking fine.
The tidal wave of panic started to subside the more he focused on the contact of Ellie’s hand, the familiar smell of the flat, and her words.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”
“I’m sorry.” The dam broke inside Jamie, and suddenly, he was shaking and crying into his hands.
“I’m so sorry, El. It sucks. It sucks so fucking bad that I don’t know what’s going on in your life.
Who you’re dating or what you’ve been up to.
I hate having to ask. It’s so fucking—I can’t—I feel—” He couldn’t catch his breath.
“Shh, J. It’s really okay.”
It wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. He felt like an awful friend, an awful person, and it was bloody embarrassing.
What about Caleb? How exhausting must it be for Caleb to have to start over with him? Show him where the fucking extra linens were, or where the closest grocery store was. Was Caleb expected to just wait until Jamie was a normal, functioning person again?
It was too much, it was all too much.
“Jamie, use your tools. I know they’re teaching you things in therapy. Come on, use them.”
Wracking his brain for what the therapist had taught him, Jamie took a breath in and tried to count to four. He let out a shaky breath and tried to draw it out to six.
“Listen to me, J.” He took another breath in, but his throat felt too tight. He nodded, trying to indicate to Ellie that he’d heard her. “No one blames you for what happened. No one, okay? Not me, not Caleb, not your mum. No one. We are in this for the long haul with you, alright?”
The tight dread behind his ribs let up a tad.
“I will tell you every single story from the last few years, Jamie. If that’s what it takes.”
He shook his head. “But you shouldn’t have to do that for me. It’s not your job to fix—”
“Hey now.” Ellie’s stern voice made Jamie’s head shoot up.
She shifted on the couch and donned her no-nonsense nurse tone.
“You listen to me, James Collins. Are you going to tell me that if I got hit by a fucking bus and needed you”—she poked him hard in the shoulder—“that you wouldn’t be there for me? ”
“Of course I would,” Jamie whispered, another tear escaping down his cheek. “Of course. That’s not what I—”
“Exactly. You would be here. With me. You’d make me really terrible French toast because you’re a horrible cook and remind me of all the shit that fell out of my brain, right?
” She poked him again, and this time, he looked into her brown eyes.
“Because you love me. And that’s what people do for other people they love. ”
Jamie sniffed and wiped his tears, trying his best to collect himself. He nodded, trying to convince himself that she was right. He would do that for her, so he could let her do that for him.
Ellie picked her plate back up and continued on like nothing had happened. “What are you wearing out with Caleb tonight? On your date.”
“I have no idea.”
She stuffed a piece of syrupy bread into her mouth and talked around it. “You should wear the navy suit. Your arse looks incredible in it.”
A few hours later, Jamie left her flat feeling a million times lighter. He even smiled at someone on the Tube.
Caleb was tired, hungry, and his back hurt. Liverpool fans were assholes, and he’d almost had to break up a fight after the game. Again.
All he wanted right now was a hot shower and Jamie. Fucking shit, he missed Jamie. Even when he was with him, he missed him. He wanted to get home, pull Jamie into their soft bed, and forget all about their fancy dinner plans.
Last year on Valentine’s Day, the two of them had been so wrapped up in each other that they’d missed their reservation and had to order takeaway late in the evening. God, the things he would do right now to hear Jamie’s soft whines, his groans of pleasure as Caleb took his time with him…
Okay, he really needed to stop thinking about last Valentine’s Day because, otherwise, he’d get a boner.
Here. On the bus back from Liverpool, with his team.
Coach Halcome already thought every gay person was a depraved monster—he didn’t need to give him any reason to believe they were perverts, too.
He slipped his phone out of his pocket and texted Ellie.
How’s he doing?
Ellie’s little bubble appeared and then went away. Caleb frowned at his phone until it dinged.
Ellie
Not great.
Caleb frantically typed out a message asking what the hell had happened, but Ellie was faster.
Ellie
He’s safe.
Caleb exhaled.
Ellie
Just had a bit of a cry. I told him about Will and he got overwhelmed.
Why was Jamie upset about Will? As far as Caleb knew, he was a nice guy. Quiet, and talked about books a lot. Anytime they were together, Caleb had to drag Jamie away from whatever book-related discussion he was having with the man.
He typed back.
Do you think he still wants to go out tonight?
Ellie
Probably not, but take him anyway. He needs this. He feels like a burden to all of us.
Caleb’s heart sank. Had he made Jamie feel like a burden? He hoped not.
Another ding.
Ellie
Take him out and feed him sourdough. He’ll be okay. I promise.
For bloody sake, though, don’t let him have anything peppermint.
Caleb smirked at his phone. Jamie was wildly allergic to peppermint and in complete denial about it.
He stuffed his phone back into his bag as the bus pulled into the stadium.
The team was quiet after the brutal loss against Liverpool and, understandably, the women were all in shitty moods.
The ride home had been practically silent.
After a few fist bumps to the players, Caleb got in his G.T.I. and headed home. He had an hour to make himself presentable for their private room at Gaucho and try to show Jamie a good time.
In all honesty, he was fucking nervous.
All he wanted was for Jamie to feel loved and adored, without being smothered.
A difficult balance, when every instinct in Caleb urged him to pull Jamie close and never let him go.
He wanted to romance the hell out of him, to coax that beautiful blush back into his cheeks, and make him laugh again.
The real laugh, the one that crinkled the skin beside his eyes and made him throw his head back.
Had Jamie laughed at all since the accident? Caleb didn’t think so.
“Hey, J. It’s just me.” Caleb announced himself as he opened the door to his apartment.
He hurried to toss his sweatshirt into their washing machine and quickly hung his coat on a hanger in the hall closet.
The moment he closed the hallway door and glanced toward the bedroom, he froze.
His bag dropped to the floor, along with his jaw.
“Holy shit,” he breathed as he took in Jamie standing in the doorway in his navy suit. Fuck, he’d forgotten about that suit.
His brain short-circuited as his gaze traced the crisp white shirt, open at the collar, exposing the smooth line of Jamie’s throat. His brown curls had been slicked back with just a touch of product, catching the evening light.
The man looked like a fucking runway model.
Caleb’s hands itched to slide into those curls and undo all that careful restraint, to follow the clean lines of Jamie’s shirt and feel every ridge and curve of Jamie’s chest.
“Holy shit.”
Jamie fiddled nervously with his sleeve. “Do I look okay? Is this too fancy?”
“You’re perfect.”
The words slipped out before Caleb could even stop to think that maybe it was too much.
Jamie looked up, and his face softened fondly.
His eyes looked so green in that suit, and Caleb felt his body flush as they roved over him from head to toe.
He could have sworn he saw them darken before Jamie seemed to remember himself and cleared his throat.
He moved off to the side and indicated the bedroom.
“Do you need the shower?”
Caleb unstuck his feet from the floor and flew into the bedroom. “Yep, I’ll be super quick.” He took the fastest shower of his life, threw on his black suit, and ushered Jamie down to the lobby. For the entire elevator ride, Caleb felt Jamie’s eyes on his profile. He hoped he looked decent.
Jesus, he was nervous.
“I thought we could take the Tube,” Caleb said. “That alright?”
“Great.” Jamie’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Caleb knew he missed his bike.
The ride there, Caleb went back and forth about holding Jamie’s hands.
His long fingers always fidgeted in his lap when they were out in public—Jamie’s social anxiety was especially bad on trains and buses—but he also didn’t want him to feel obligated to hold his hand.
Or do anything physical for him, for that matter.
“This is us,” Caleb said softly. Jamie hopped off the bench, ready to get off the Tube, and Caleb hovered a hand at his lower back as they exited the train.
This was good. It was good for Jamie to be out in the city, getting some fresh air, and eating good food. Caleb was determined to make this night nice for him.