Staying on Course (Finding our Way 2)

“Then the answer is yes.”

I scurry to his bathroom and strip, filling his small bath with warm water. He joins me, and for the first time, his eyes don’t heat, instead fill with sorrow. I reach for him, and he steps back, leaning against the wall. I switch off the water and wait for him to speak.

“You are my compass.” He steps forward and runs his finger around my tattoo. “And my anchor.”

I stay quiet, knowing he’s fighting back something deep inside.

“I wouldn’t have let her get away with it. If she’d have succeeded in taking you away from me, I’d have made her life hell on earth.”

This strikes a nerve that has been bothering me since this morning. “Bryce, what was her end game? If she knows you at all, she knows that you’d hate her guts, never forgive her, and there’s no way you’d be a couple.”

“She’s deluded. She wants the ‘thought’ of me—good-looking, intelligent, goal-oriented, expansive Naval opportunities. This is not me being conceited. These are words she repeated to Dani and Nicole. In her mind, I’d have forgiven her. She had no idea of the depth of our relationship and seriously thought she could compete with our history. With Nate as my best friend, it never occurred to her I could love you like I do. She never took the time to get to know my fascination and level of devotion.”

“Should we be worried about her obsession?”

“No, it’ll be handled in a few days.”

“New plan.” I step into the tub and hold out my hands for him. “We don’t talk about her anymore tonight. I’ll be here for three more days. It’ll take a while to get over this, but right now, I physically need you to hold me.”

Relief washes over his face, and he steps out of his pants and into the tub. We sink down together, and he takes his time washing every inch of me. I hold back tears at his tenderness, knowing he’s doing the same.

We finish and go straight back to the bed, me slipping into one of his sweatshirts. He positions me across his lap, and we take turns feeding each other spoonfuls of peanut butter, not talking. When we do fall asleep, both of us cling tight, feeling what we could have lost.

*****

“Nate, if you put that channel on another football game, I’ll scream!” My protest goes unheard, and players fill the screen.

“You’ll get over it.” He sits back on the couch and drapes his arm around Jamie’s shoulders.

We both roll our eyes, and I nudge Bryce in the ribs. “Can’t you do something?”

“Oh, yeah, I can do something.” He raises his eyebrows. “I can take you back to my room and we abandon football all together.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly trying to get laid.” He nuzzles my neck.

“This is getting fucking ridiculous. Can you two have some respect?” my brother hisses.

Jamie starts giggling, and I push off Bryce’s chest to my feet. “Okay, I’ll clean the kitchen.”

He starts to move, too, but Jamie speaks up. “I’ll help.”

She follows me to the kitchen and helps put away the leftovers of my ‘late’ New Year’s meal. Since we lost two nights and days to the Liza situation, I insisted on re-creating New Year’s Day. Then I insisted that Nate invite Jamie to see we could be normal.

“You look a lot better than the last time I saw you,” Jamie says nicely.

“You mean, when you left me slumped in bed, thinking my life was over two days ago? I can only imagine what I looked like, swollen eyes, nose running, tears pouring down my face.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” She presses her lips together.

“You’re a liar, but that’s okay because you’re doing it to make me feel better.”

“Seriously, it’s good to see you smile.”

“Thank you for everything.”

She shrugs and sits at the small table and looks around the kitchen. I can tell she’s curious but too polite to question me.