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“You okay, Bo?” Jamie asked.
“I’m fine. Can you get Marcus for me?” I abruptly asked, staring at my feet and wishing he’d disappear before I gave up my tough guy act.
“You gonna treat me like this all summer?” he asked, stepping onto the small concrete landing two steps above me. He kept a foot in the door to keep it from closing but seemed to want some privacy. “I’ll be home until September and was hoping we could hang out like we used to.”
I heard the words but my heart was urging me to ignore them. “I’m busy building my business. Doubt I’ll have much time,” I mumbled. I couldn’t look him directly in the eyes because I knew he would spot my uncertainty.
Apparently my rejection hit him square between the eyes. “You think I liked having to leave you?” he hissed, checking behind him for any signs of anyone eavesdropping. “I fucking missed you every day, Bo. Every single fucking day.”
“Yeah? I guess I didn’t notice.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“So, you missed me so much that you couldn’t call or text?” I asked. “So much that you couldn’t take a moment to check in on me? Memaw died, Jamie,” I rubbed in. “Did you remember I’d be all alone after that?” My eyes were burning and swore I’d never let him see me cry again. “Pardon me if I seem less than forgiving, dude, but that shit hurt.”
“I was loaded with class work, Bo,” he defended. “You don’t get it because you aren’t there to see how tough school is.”
“And whose fault is that?” I asked.
He reached back and slammed his fist against the door. “Oh, here we go. Still stuck on that?”
“Actually, I’m notstuck on that, as you say,” I added nastily. “Just get Marcus for me, will ya?”
“Jesus!We were eighteen, Bo. Kids, for fuck’s sake. Move the fuck on.”
I stared at him with zero anger or emotion on my face. I wanted to be as cold as his comment.
“I’m working on it, Jamie. You might not believe me, but I’m getting there,” I declared. “This talk has helped me move on, so thank you for that.”
We stared at one another. Neither wanting to revisit the past or give an inch. His next words stunned me. “I still fucking love you, Bo.”
His words should have made my heart soar but instead they had the opposite effect. Jamie had never said those words to me before. And now they were probably too late. “Maybe I’m not the only one stuck?” I asked. “Hurts don’t it?”
Marcus pushed the door open, catching Jamie off guard. I sensed Jamie was about to say something but his words lodged in his throat. The same place my heart was currently located. Jamie stepped to the side and so Marcus could come outside. He waited until I looked back at him. “We’re not done talking about this.”
“I am,” I stated.
CHAPTER TWELVE: Hayes
The ride to Cooper River Waterfront in Charleston was a quiet one. Neither Phillip or I wanted to engage in conversation, both of us avoiding the elephant in the car. He’d texted Saturday morning to inquire when I’d be ready to be picked up. The text was brief and direct which matched the drive to the Carolina Yacht Club where our friend Charles kept his sailboat.
Phillip and I were familiar with the club since both of our parents were members before we were born. The Carolina Yacht Club was the oldest yacht club in South Carolina. Established in 1883, its members, like all private clubs in the south, were from the cream of the crop of southern society. The Crawford and Honeycutt families had a long connection to the club and Phillip had proposed we buy our own boat in the not-too-soon future.
“Have you spoken to your father today?” Phillip asked when we were ten minutes from the club. “Probably best to bite the bullet and apologize to him for your behavior.”
I quickly turned toward him, surprised by his advice. “Excuse me?”
“You know how he is, Hayes. Just do it and we can all move on.”
“He described our lifestyle as disgusting, Phillip. Forgive me if I’m a little pissed off right now,” I said. “Here’s an idea,” I began. “Why don’t you ask him to call me and apologize?”
“Yeah, right. What if he actually fires you?” he asked. “Have you thought about the repercussions?”
I turned to my right and watched the scenery passing by. Now would not be the time to tell Phillip that my father couldn’t fire me for starters, or that I was vacating my office on Tuesday and taking charge of my estate. That call would happen right after I told Phillip I was quitting him too. “Why don’t we focus on the weekend and try and have a nice time?”
“But you’re going to call him, right?”
Phillip couldn’t let something as important as his connection to my father just sit on the back burner, so I knew I’d have to placate him. If I didn’t shut him down now, I’d be peppered nonstop over the three-day holiday. “I’ll handle it, Phillip. I promise. First thing Tuesday.” That wasn’t a lie. I would handle everything Tuesday.
