He unfolded the scarf and then reached out to hook it around the back of my neck. Then he tugged me forward and kissed me.
Wow, okay, I guess we are in a place where we can just kiss each other.
“There, now you’re ready.”
To conquer the world. At least, that was how it felt as we walked out the door and headed to the parking garage.
HOW I’D LIVED this long without riding on a motorcycle was beyond me—because I loved it. The adrenaline, the speed, the rush of the wind against my body as Jameson gunned it up the highway. It was unreal, just like that first night he’d taken me out. He weaved us through the traffic and back into downtown, and I didn’t know or care where we were going as long as he kept riding.
Jameson headed up a main road and then down several side streets, and I realized I’d been here before, that night Jude and I came to the pub. He made another couple of turns, and we crossed under the L, then he slowed the bike as we approached a large corner lot with a chain-link fence. As he pulled up along the side, I saw a sign that read: NO TRESPASSERS.
Jameson brought the bike to a stop and flipped up his visor, then he climbed off. “Wait here.”
Considering I had no idea where I was and no way to get home, that was easy. I watched closely as Jameson pulled something out of his pocket and—oh my God—picked the padlock on the fence.
My jaw fell open as he pulled the chain free of the gate, then he opened it up enough for us to get inside.
“Um, what are we doing here?”
Jameson pulled his helmet off and smirked. “You look worried, GQ. Afraid I brought you somewhere to do nefarious things to your body?”
I wish. But no, I was more concerned that the owner of this place would bust out and shoot us for being on his property.
“I’m just wondering who— Did you just pick that padlock?”
“I did.”
“That’s illegal.”
“I know. But I’ve been picking that padlock since I was a kid. The owner hasn’t arrested me yet, so I think we’re good.”
“You think?”
Jameson climbed back on the bike as if that explained everything, then rode slowly through the gate. I looked around to see what exactly this place was, but there were no signs, no mailboxes, just an abandoned corner building. Please don’t let a guard dog coming running around that corner.
Jameson killed the engine and put the lock back in place, and I climbed off the bike and took hold of his arm. “Where are we?”
“Really, GQ, I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”
I narrowed my eyes, but when Jameson held out his hand, any apprehension I might’ve had disappeared.
The floorboards creaked underfoot as we walked into the building. When I hesitated, Jameson glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s safe, I promise.”
Deep down, I already knew that. There was no way Jameson would put me in danger. He was a fireman, for God’s sake.
We moved farther inside, and as I scanned the interior, I noticed the place was completely gutted. No furniture, no indication of what might’ve been here when the building first went up, just broken windows with dusty frames.
“What is this place?”
Jameson led me to a set of stairs. “It used to be an old corner store with an ice cream shop. There were apartments upstairs, but that’s not where we’re going.”
“It’s not?”
“Nope.” His fingers tightened around mine. “Come with me.”
We walked up four flights of steps, and when we reached a door with the word EXIT, Jameson pushed it open and moved aside.
“We’re going out on the roof? Are you sure?”
Jameson chuckled but nodded, and I stepped into the chilly air. When he took my hand again and led me to the opposite side of the building, my breath caught as a spectacular view of downtown came into view.
“Jameson, it’s beautiful up here.”
“I know.” He gestured to two lawn chairs and a couple of crates that were flipped over as footstools. “Sit with me?”
I smiled and took the closest chair. “The view up here is phenomenal. I never would’ve guessed.”
Jameson stared out at the buildings surrounding us and nodded. “Unexpected, huh?”
I took a moment to study his strong profile. Yes, you’re completely unexpected.
“Simon and I used to sneak up here when we were teenagers—got caught a couple times, too.”
“Simon…” My heart all but stopped at the mention of that name. I knew that for Jameson this subject was difficult. I didn’t want to pry, but if he wanted to talk, I was ready to listen.
“Yeah, he was a permanent at one of the shelters Amy and I were in and out of, and we all kind of just clicked. We used to run around those streets down there looking for trouble. This up here was our version of a treehouse, I guess.”
My eyes blurred at his comparison to my own childhood, and I was glad that he wasn’t looking my way, because I was unable to stop the emotions welling up inside of me. This was big—he was trusting me with his past, sharing something so deeply personal.
“You two were close, then? Even before you joined the CFD?”
Jameson nodded. “Like brothers. We always looked out for each other…”
His words trailed off, and when his jaw bunched, I knew he was thinking back to the day he’d lost Simon.
“We didn’t have a whole lot growing up, but Jon, down at the bar, his dad owned this store. He used to give us free ice cream and wouldn’t kick our asses if he caught us up here on the roof. He kept us out of trouble, then Jon did. This building belongs to him now, but I have a feeling he’ll sell it soon.”
“He didn’t want to keep the business?”
“Nah, it was never for him, and some developer will go crazy for this lot. He’s just waiting for the right offer and to not care so much.”
As silence fell between us and I processed all I’d just learned, I looked down to the neighborhood Jameson had grown up in and tried to imagine him as a young boy. There were several streets of old homes, some still in good condition but others not so much, and I wondered which one of those he had grown up in.
Farther out from the streets were commercial buildings and the beginnings of downtown, and off in the distance were the high rises that made up the city skyline.
I loved Chicago, I always had, but I was starting to realize there was a whole side of it that I didn’t really know—kind of like the man beside me.
Jameson rarely opened up about himself. Every time I asked questions in an attempt to get to know him better, he’d always found some way to deflect. So the fact that he’d brought me here and shared what he had meant the world to me. It felt as though he was letting me in.
I could hear the rumble of the L off in the distance somewhere, and looked around, half expecting it to come barreling by.
“It’s behind us.”
“Huh?”
“The train,” Jameson said. “It’s behind us. But this spot was always about what was in front of me.”
For a crazy second, I thought he meant me. He’d brought me here, and I was in front of him. But then he turned back to the view of the city, and I realized I was probably reading more into his words than he meant.