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He knows I’m watching, and he’s doing it to fuck with me.
It’s working.
Because I want nothing more than to march over there and punch him right in the dick. And then his face. And then his dick again just to bring homewhyI’m punching him in the first place.
I have questions. So many of them. Mainly when it was Jamie decided that alcohol wasn’t going to be her undoing like it was her mother’s. Or maybe itisher undoing—and this is the choice that she’s making. Because we all have those—choices—even when making one seems impossible at the time. And, good or bad, right or wrong, you have to be accountable for those decisions you make.
That’s the mantra I’ve lived by for the past five years.
Shechoseto run away.
And for the first year of that, Ichoseto wait for her.
I guess we all make shitty decisions.
Colton moves in again, his mouth right to Jamie’s ear as he says something that makes her laugh.
Fuck this guy.
“What’s wrong?” Bri asks, her fingertips on my jaw, forcing me to face her.
“Nothing.”
“You’re all tense.”
Colton’skissingher now, or at least attempting to, and I almost shove Bri off my lap, but Jamie… Jamie pushes him away and shakes her head, and I can read her lips when she says, “Sorry.”
Don’t be sorry, Jamie.
She stands for the first time, and I watch her—unsteady on her feet—as she dodges people in the yard and enters the house through the back door.
I count to three before I tap Bri on the knee, telling her I’m grabbing a beer. She lets me go, no questions asked.
When I step into the small house, the only door closed is the bathroom. I press my ear to the door, hear the tap running. Leaning against the frame, I wait not so patiently for Jamie to appear, and when she does, I step forward, pushing her back. Eyes wide, she mumbles, “What the fuck?”
I close the door behind me, lock it, and take her in from head to toe. Her dress is gray with thin straps and ends just above her knees. It’s loose around the top, tight around her ass, clinging to her like a second skin. Fuck, she looks good enough to eat. I’m almost tempted to just that if she wasn’t so unsteady on her feet. “Maybe you should lay off the alcohol.”
She tilts her head, her bloodshot eyes squinting. “Nah.”
“Jamie…”
“No!” she yells, but she’s laughing, and I don’t know why. Nothing is funny about this situation.Nothing. “You know why?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Why?”
“Because drinking makes the images of you sucking face with your perfect girlfriend less clear!” Her eyes widen on a gasp, and she takes a step forward until we’re almost touching. “I can get blackout fucking drunk, and that way, I don’t have to seeanything!”
My eyes drift shut as I pinch the bridge of my nose, try to remain calm. “Jesus, Jamie. You’re wasted, and when did you even start—”
“Oh my God!” she cuts in, and my eyes snap to hers again. “Drinking is like drawing when I was locked in the closet!” My shoulders slump, my head doing the same. “I get to choose what I see! Get it, Holden?” She fists my t-shirt, shaking me gently. “I get to be the birds!” Releasing me, she extends her arms, uses them as wings as she spins around the small space. “I get to flyyyy! I get to soar.” She stops suddenly, eyes flicking between mine, and there’s so much pain, so much sadness behind her stare, and it’s only now I realize that the redness in her eyes isn’t from the alcohol. She’s been crying. “And I never, ever, have to see you with anyone else again…”
I heave out a sigh, trying to focus on my truths regardless of her feelings because anything else would drag us both under. “What? Are you jealous?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Of course I am, Holden.”
“You have no right to be.”
She takes a single calming breath, then says, “I know.”
