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Guess that’s it then.
Working my jaw, I turn to Jeremy and say, “I’m sorry, I just…I worry.”
He huffs something under his breath, and looks away. “Well, don’t. I’m fine.”
“Jer.”
His jaw ticks, but then his gaze flits my way. “Yeah?”
I offer him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He stares at me for one impossibly long beat.
Then, finally, something seems to give way, softening some of the edges I’d unwittingly chiseled out of him a second ago.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he says, “I made things all?—”
“Stop,” I mutter, taking a step toward him.
I’m not sure he even heard me, or maybe it’s because of my proximity—whatever it is has him stilling, and his gaze colliding softly with mine.
Wetting my lips, I lean over just enough so that my words are for him only. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I just…I missed you.” I pause meaningfully, and if I’m not mistaken he’s holding his breath. “You look good, JJ. You look…you look happy.”
Free. He looks free.
And fuck if it doesn’t kill me.
How selfish is that?
But truth is, it fucking terrifies me. This new version of Jeremy.
No, the real Jeremy…
Because that’s it, isn’t?
Here I am with a stupid little flag thinking that could make up for all the bullying and suffering he experienced growing up in this town. As if that little token of good faith will keep him coming back, when it’s clear moving away from Shiloh—moving away from us, from me…
Was the best damn thing to ever happen to him.
Izzy would be happy for him.
And at the reminder, resolve washes over me, and I stand a little taller.
She wouldn’t be giving him shit for living his life, so why are you?
From the stage, Waylon plays out a quick little beat on his drums, and there’s a thump as something knocks a mic. A second later, the lights dim, and a cheer rises up.
I clear my throat, not that it helps ease the gravel in my voice when I say, “Guess that’s my cue.” Hanging my head, I step back, and I go to turn away when a hand shoots out, clasping my bicep, halting me.
My breath catches, and my gaze drops to the fingers gripping me, before following the arm it belongs to up to a searing pair of brown eyes that practically glitter black now in the dark.
The pale column of his throat ripples with a swallow. Then, “You’re amazing. The band I mean,” he clarifies quickly…too quickly. Shaking his head, he bunches his face, and says, “I should’ve said that before. Should’ve been the first thing I said. I?—”
I cover his hand with mine, and turn to face him fully once more. Giving his fingers a squeeze, I don’t immediately let go. “It’s okay,” I tell him, loud enough to be heard over the growing noise. “I’m just…I’m just happy you’re here.”
He frowns, and something passes over his shadowed features, there and gone before I can even try to put a name to it.
I open my mouth to say something, when a loud voice fills the room, momentarily quieting the crowd.
