The next morning brought the fever back, and Brynn’s mom had filled her prescription as soon as she got home. For a week she was in a codeine haze, and Jamie barely saw her. When she was finally well again, Jamie’s family had fallen apart. His parents had ridden the wave of a miserable marriage until he’d graduated high school—the last of the Kingston boys to leave home. Brynn had spent the week miserable and in bed while Jamie spent his hiding out to avoid the vicious verbal lobs his parents threw at each other. Funny, they’d never fought that he could remember. But once his dad said he was leaving, everything they’d held back came pouring out.
“I can’t do this, B,” he’d told her when she was finally well again. “I need my friend. Because if it goes any further…I just can’t watch us turn into them.” That had been the only explanation he’d had—the only thing he thought would make sense to her. Because the truth of it was, everything he’d thought he knew about love had detonated in an instant. How could he let himself fall further for her when all his life he’d been taught a lie? So he’d caged his heart—enough to keep it safe and enough to keep Brynn in his life, even if it meant hurting her to do it.
She’d cried, but she hadn’t argued. Why would she fight a losing battle? Because that’s what Jamie was. For a year he’d played it safe, never fought for what he wanted. Then when he finally got it, he pushed it away after one amazing kiss.
Jamie turned his head toward Brynn in the cab now, sliding his arm around her.
“We’re good, right?” he asked, and something wistful rose to the surface in her eyes. He wondered if she knew where his mind had wandered, wondered if hers ever wandered there, too.
“Always,” she said, and leaned her head to his shoulder.
Friends, he thought. We’re good as friends. That’s what he kept telling himself, and he was sure by now he believed it.
Chapter Two
One of the perks of knowing the owner of the establishment was making sure her stuff was safe when it was time to get her drink on, and Brynn did not take this for granted. Jamie led her to his office at Kingston Ale House, her secret hideout where she would leave her purse and coat for the remainder of the evening.
“Has Liz been here yet?” she teased him, and Jamie gave her that look, the one that asked, Are we done with this yet? But the only way she knew how to deal with him dating was to act like the annoying little sister. It wasn’t like he was going to marry the girl.
Wait. Could he marry this girl? Brynn laughed quietly to herself. She and Jamie never got that far in relationships. They wouldn’t have to think about marriage—to other people, of course—and how that would affect their relationship for years, right?
“Not yet,” he said, oblivious to the convoluted places her mind seemed to be taking her. “She works mostly night shifts, and well, so do I, so there hasn’t really been the occasion for her to visit while I’m here.”
“Hmmm,” she said, then hooked her arm in his. “Guess I’m still your work spouse for now.”
Brynn took a selfish satisfaction in this. Sure it made her feel a bit petty, but she liked that there was a part of Jamie that wasn’t Liz’s yet. He had always been Brynn’s fallback when they were single together, and he’d been a big help during this most recent dry spell. It seemed like every other weekend, someone they knew was getting married and, thank the stars, Jamie was there when she needed a date. Well, until three months ago. And really, it was her own fault she lost her backup date in the first place.
He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t think that’s how it works. Regardless of how much time you spend loitering here, you don’t actually take home a paycheck.”
He winked at her and stepped through the door.
Jamie checked his voicemails on the office phone when Brynn stepped in front of him and rubbed her finger over the fading scar on his chin.
“She does do good work,” she said.
He closed his eyes for a brief couple of seconds, and Brynn held her breath. Then he jerked his head back, a totally acceptable reflex now since she’d stabbed him in the face with a letter opener.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice unusually strained.
“You’re still mad at me,” she said. “It was three months ago, and it was an accident. Plus you got a girlfriend out of the whole deal, so you really should be thanking me. I did you a favor.”
He laughed. “Can we take a poll tonight to see how many people would like the favor of you impaling them in the face with a sharp object?”
She threw up her arms, her right hand knocking a shelf above Jamie’s desk where his coffee mug, the one that read Shhh…there’s beer in here, held all his multicolored dry-erase markers. Brynn caught the mug as it toppled from the shelf, but the markers scattered across the desk and the floor.
Jamie raised his eyebrows, and she groaned. At least she wasn’t gesticulating with anything other than her hands. No danger of drawing blood. And it’s not like she was some bull in a china shop, either. That day in her office, Jamie had sneaked up on her while she was opening bills. When someone pokes you in the ribs and yells, “Boo,” you react. And Brynn reacted much like right now, her arms flailing. Only that time, Jamie’s face got in the way instead of a shelf.