When You Were Mine (Second Chances 2)

“Hang on,” Jamie said. “I’m about to get into the elevator. I might lose you.”

“‘Kay.”

A moment later, now on the ground floor, he picked up the thread of conversation where it had previously ended. “Hell yeah. That would be awesome. I hope his kid is okay, but shit. Thank him for me, whoever he is.”

“Pink eye and strep throat at the same time. Nothing a fuck ton of antibiotics won’t cure. Either way, I’ll pass along the message.”

“We can ride together if you want. Meet you at your place? Six thir

ty?”

“Sounds like a plan, brother. See you then,” Steve said.

“See ya soon,” Jamie said as he disconnected the line. With another glance at the time on his cell phone he realized he needed to move if he was going to make it across town and back before he was supposed to be at Steve’s.

Jamie looked back at the building, then quickly texted Cora. “I’m leaving a little early for the day. When you leave, please don’t forget to call the guard downstairs to walk you out. Talk to you later?”

He hit send and then plugged the address for the warehouse where the table was waiting into his GPS.

One vetoed table and a trip to the gym later, he pulled up in front of Steve’s house. He checked his cell phone once more and saw that Cora hadn’t responded yet. On a frustrated sigh, he texted Steve to let him know he was out front.

A couple minutes later, he saw Steve pop out the front door, lock it and hurry to the car. He grinned as he slid into the passenger’s seat with far more grace that Jamie would have expected from a man Steve’s size.

“Jesus,” Steve muttered. “I didn’t realize you drove a tin can, Connolly. Was there anything on the lot with less leg room?”

Jamie smirked and said, “Great gas mileage. Did you wanna drive to the arena?”

His eyes widening, Steve said, “Hell no. The parking situation is fucked there. I’d never be able to find a spot for my truck.”

Jamie and Steve made it to their seats just before tip-off, armed with drinks and the world’s most expensive hot dogs. When he saw the view of the court, he said, “Holy shit. These are really good seats. How much do I owe you for the ticket?”

Steve waved him off and said, “He’s got season tickets. He just gave them to me.”

“That makes the thirty dollars of food I’ve got here a lot easier to deal with,” Jamie said.

“Captive audience, man.”

The next hour flew by in a flurry of action on the court. The Schooners looked like shit, which only helped the Bruins look good.

By halftime they were up by fifteen points. After a quick refill, he slid back into his seat and checked his phone again. Still nothing. It was almost nine now. He supposed he would have heard something by now if she didn’t make it home. Which only irritated him more...

“Bro,” Steve cut into his thoughts. “You’ve checked your cell phone a million times since we sat down. Is everything okay?”

Jamie sighed, ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then said, “Cora.”

“When did that become a thing again?”

“Honestly,” he responded. “I don’t have a clue. Things have been building up for the last couple weeks, but...it’s not really about that.”

He proceeded to tell him about the man in her office last night.

Steve winced and asked, “Just some random drunk? She must have been terrified. Why wouldn’t she call you or text you at least to let you know? That’s kind of shitty.”

“Last night things got more complicated between us,” he said. “She wasn’t keen on jumping into anything, so I think she might be avoiding me.”

“Complicated?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rolling his eyes, Jamie said, “Really complicated.”