When You Were Mine (Second Chances 2)

“If you’re sure,” Jamie said. Then he asked, “Want water? A soda?”

“Water’s good.”

A second later, he grabbed the bottle and passed it over. Taking a swig of his beer, he said, “Let’s move into the living room. Those stools suck.”

Steve snorted and said, “Yeah. I didn’t wanna say anything but my ass is kinda numb already.”

“In my defense, the one in the store was much more comfortable than those are.”

“Yeah. That’s how they lure you in. It’s been broken in by a million asses before you sit in it. When you get it home and take it out of the box, it’s hard as a rock and wobbly,” Steve said.

“Ah, so you shop at Davison’s too, then,” Jamie said with a smirk.

“I’ve got the same fucking stools,” he said with a laugh.

When they had settled in the living room, Jamie said, “So shit. Catch me up. What have you been doing since I last saw

you?”

Steve sat in the overstuffed chair and ran a hand through his wildly curly hair. “Hm. Let’s see. I sold cars for a while. That worked out for me. Too well. When you’ve got a shit ton of disposable income and you’re not entirely happy, you spend it on a lot of dumb stuff. Hence the sobriety. I was married. Got divorced. Quit the car sales, went back to school, and started an accounting firm. It’s not the most exciting job but it’s going pretty well for me. Enough money to live on, more clients than I can handle. Adulthood, I guess.”

“I’m glad you were able to get it together. Some people never do,” Jamie said, still surprised. The Steve that he remembered had been a casual drinker. It was hard to reconcile all of this in his brain. A lot had changed since they’d hung out last, he supposed.

“What about you? I’m glad to see you didn’t turn into some yuppie,” Steve said, his lip curled in disgust.

Jamie laughed and said, “Didn’t have time to spend any of that money. I was working, like ninety-hour weeks most of the time. Got tired of being fucking tired all the time, and I hated New York. Decided it was time to come home. I missed my family.”

“I get that. Couldn’t leave my mom,” Steve said. After a moment he added, “But it’s cool that you did. I’m not judging. It isn’t like she didn’t have several backup children.”

Snorting, Jamie said, “Thanks. I think?”

Steve grinned unrepentantly at him. Ignoring the obvious sarcasm, he said, “You’re welcome, buddy. Here to help.”

When there was a knock on his door, Jamie stood up and said, “And there’s one of the backup children now. Who will it be?”

“Evan,” Steve guessed. “He was always habitually early.”

Jamie opened the door to find Evan standing there with a casserole under one arm, and a six-pack in his other hand.

“Hey. Come on in, Ev. Should I take those?” Jamie asked.

“I’ve got the beer, but the casserole is a little warm. Be careful,” Evan said as he walked through the door.

Jamie said, “Thank your wife for me profusely, please. You remember Steve Lutz, right?”

Evan zeroed in on the man sitting the overstuffed chair and said, “Hey Steve! Long time. How the hell are you?”

Over the next few hours the rest of his brothers arrived and then settled in for a lengthy game of poker. Between the eating and the bullshitting, the game didn’t wrap up until almost ten. Jamie grinned smugly as he collected the winnings and said, “I am victorious!”

Evan and Steve rolled their eyes as he had cleaned them both out with the last hand. Donnie, Bruce and Michael had all lost earlier in the evening and had taken off when the game started to drag on.

Evan made a face and admitted, “Your poker face has gotten better.”

Jamie grinned and said, “Several years being a corporate shill will do that to a man.”

“It got you to where you are today,” Steve joked. “Now you get to hire underlings to be your corporate shill. Speaking of work, I have an early day. You owe me a re-match, Connolly.”

“Fair enough, buddy,” Jamie said, pulling him into a one-armed man hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”