Shit, Jamie thought. He should have told her about Liz, well, that there was no Liz. Maybe he should right now. She was already being all weird about the smoking in college thing. He reasoned she’d move beyond weird if she found out he was flat-out lying to her about something. He never lied to Brynn—unless he counted that whole year in high school he was punch-drunk in love with her but never said a word. Or when he finally had the balls to kiss her and then told her he couldn’t be with her after his parents split. But that wasn’t really a lie—at the time he needed her friendship to get through it all, and he couldn’t chance losing her. The full truth was he feared loving her and watching whatever ate away at his parents’ relationship do the same to them. He kissed Brynn and awakened something in her he couldn’t believe was there, and then he ended things before they had a chance to start. He loved her more than air that day he shut her down, but he never let her know.
Maybe he hadn’t thought this through the right way—what it would do if she didn’t pick him. The bravado he had when he proposed the trip to Brynn was starting to be overshadowed by the voice inside his head that began asking what the hell he thought he was doing.
You’re bringing her to another guy, dipshit. Some grand plan you put together.
“Fuck off,” Jamie said to himself under his breath.
“What?” Brynn asked.
“Huh? Oh, nothing. I think this is where we get off…our exit, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “You wanted to see the arch, right?”
Her eyes lit up, and suddenly that asshole voice of reason was squashed like a bug. How could he question what he was doing when he was going to be the one to experience this with her? No one else. Whatever happened at the end of this trip, they’d have these days together, an experience that couldn’t be replicated. It was all just a matter of timing now. Walking in on the girl he loved straddling another guy? Epically bad timing. But somewhere in these next several days, he’d get it right. If he didn’t, then he deserved what waited for him at the end of this trip—letting her go. But it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. Not this time.
Chapter Eight
Maybe it was the fact that they were a few hours south, or maybe it was just the mood of the early afternoon, but the sun was warm on Brynn’s face when she stepped out of the truck. Eyes closed, she tilted her head up to the sky and let the heat soak into her skin. She took off her coat but kept the scarf. Jamie, who never seemed to get cold, wore only the hoodie and a T-shirt underneath, so he left that on. He met her on her side of the vehicle and smiled.
“What?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I like seeing you excited about something.”
Could he feel the energy brimming inside her? Because she was excited. She could have let her chance with Spencer pass her by—thrown her hands in the air and said Forget it—again. She could have stayed mad, blamed that night on Jamie. But that wasn’t fair. After all, it was his office, and Jamie was never one for big parties. Of course he’d want to hide out at some point that evening. Maybe if she’d had a little less to drink, she would have taken Spencer someplace less likely to be invaded. But she’d been tipsy, so she hadn’t been logical, and what happened, happened. This time she wasn’t going to make excuses. She was going after what she wanted, like she used to, before rejection by the person she trusted most took away her confidence to do so.
Spencer hadn’t rejected her. They just had bad timing. Twice. And really, it all worked out in the end. She still had her best friend, and now she had not a second but a third chance to see, once and for all, if Spencer was the guy—the one that got away.
Yeah. Brynn was excited about something.
Then she looked up, and her smile quickly faded.
“B?” Jamie asked, but she didn’t answer.
It wasn’t that she didn’t hear him, but her palms grew as sweaty as her mouth was dry. She cleared her throat and tried to swallow. Were her tonsils swelling?
“B?” This time he waved his hand in front of her face. She blinked and focused on him rather than the monstrosity they were about to approach.
“It’s—high,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
Jamie laughed. “Uh, yeah. Pretty sure I read it’s the highest man-made monument in the nation. Six hundred thirty feet at the top.”
She lost her footing and staggered back until she bumped the passenger door. So much for smooth sailing.
Jamie shook his head. “Uh-uh. You are not afraid of heights, Brynn Chandler. Your family went to Florida every winter throughout middle school and high school. You’ve been on a plane more times than I can count.”
She nodded. He was right, so she could understand his logic. But he’d never been with her on one of those planes.
“Dramamine,” she said, finding her voice again.
Jamie’s gaze went from the Arch back to her. “What?”
“Dramamine,” she said again, this time louder and more insistent. “I took Dramamine before every single flight.”
“Since when do you get motion sickness?”
She shook her head.
“I took Dramamine because it made me drowsy. I always fell asleep before takeoff.”
Jamie flipped his baseball hat backward and crossed his arms over his chest. God he looked so young like that, like the guy who dragged her to countless Sox games when they were teens, when his dad had season tickets. After his parents split, Jamie stopped going to the ballpark, but he never stopped loving his team.
“Are you going to lecture me?” she asked, trying to reconcile his boyish look with his authoritative stance.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You’ve never actually experienced a flight. You slept through them all?”
She nodded.
“Because you’re afraid of heights.”