When You Were Mine (Second Chances 2) - Page 8

There was a lengthy pause before his phone buzzed again. He picked it up and read, “I’d like that. It was great to see you tonight. I hadn’t realized how much I missed you.”

“I’m back for good, now. So we can remedy that anytime you’d like,” he typed.

There was another long pause before she said, “Then let’s grab lunch some day this week? And shouldn’t you be unpacking? You’re procrastinating, aren’t you?”

He snorted as he read her reply and then typed back, “Lunch sounds good. Let me know when. As for the unpacking, I’m transparent. What can I say? I’m going to go finish, since you called me out. It’s just principle now. Talk to you soon.”

“Night :),” she responded back.

It hadn’t been the exact outcome he’d hoped for, but he could work with that. And, even if he couldn’t work with that, at least they could be friends. It was something.

He plugged the phone back into the base of the stereo and started the music again. He’d unpack the rest of these damned boxes if it killed him.

* * * *

Around eleven the next morning, his phone rang insistently, waking him from a very nice dream. He picked it up, bleary-eyed and didn’t recognize the number. He fumbled with the button, then sent it to voicemail.

Jamie pulled the blanket back up and slammed the pillow down over his eyes to block out the light that streamed into his bedroom. Fuck being awake. There was time for that later. Much later.

He finally surfaced around two in the afternoon. He wasn’t normally this lazy but he’d decided to unpack everything. He hadn’t gotten to bed until almost five in the morning. It was done though. All he needed to do was to hang some shelves and pictures.

By the time he was showered and dressed, it was almost three. His stomach growled loudly. As he checked his messages, he contemplated what he was going to do to fix that.

He had one text from Evan asking how the walk down to the car had gone. Nosy bastard. Jamie shook his head and ignored it. Also, one voicemail from the unknown number.

Curious, he dialed and listened. A voice came over the line and said, “Hey, Jamie. Steve Lutz. Ran into your brother Michael a little bit ago and he gave me your contact info. Gimme a call now that you’re back in town. Let’s grab lunch or something.”

A grin on his face, he thumbed through the missed call log and dialed.

A few rings later, Steve picked up and said, “Jamie Connolly. Holy shit. How are you, buddy?”

“Not too shabby. Glad to be home. How about you? Shit. It’s been ages!”

Another half hour passed before he managed to get off the phone. Steve had been officially invited to poker and he needed to run to the grocery store immediately. Everyone would be here in less than two hours and he had four beers, some cold cuts, and a half-eaten pizza in his apartment.

The pizza solved one problem, though, he realized. He grabbed a slice out of the box and took a bite as he searched for his keys.

After a quick trip to the grocery store, he was armed with snacks, drinks, and some actual food for the coming week. He was balancing the last load of bags against the door when he heard a familiar voice say, “Hey. Let me grab that for you.”

Steve walked up and grabbed one of the six-packs that was perilously close to sliding out of his grasp.

“Thanks, man. Should’ve gotten a place with an elevator,” he said as he turned the key and opened the door. “Come on in. Thanks for coming over.”

Steve laughed and said, “You said free food and poker. I’m easy.”

Jamie shook his head as he stashed the beer in the fridge and said, “Good to know. So catch me up. What’s been going on? Still repairing computers out of your mom’s garage?”

“Christ no! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get laid when you’re twenty-three and living with your mom?”

“Thankfully no. I stayed in the dorms during school and there was no way I was going back to live with my folks after that.”

Jamie put away the rest of the cold stuff, then grabbed a beer for himself. He looked up at Steve, who was perched on a barstool and said, “Want one?”

He waved a hand and said, “Nah. Sober three years.”

“Oh. Okay. Is this gonna bother you?” Jamie asked.

“Nope. Have at it, brother.”

Tags: Michelle Roth Second Chances Paranormal
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