“Your childhood, your sister, and Simon? None of that is your fault. It’s time to stop punishing yourself for things that are out of your control, Jameson.”
I opened my eyes. “I don’t know how.”
“You start by dealing with shit head-on. Like that man in there. The one who’s waiting on you despite whatever happened tonight. You tell him you’re a hot fucking mess but you’re working on it.”
He was right, I knew he was. But was it really fair to ask Ryan to have deal with all my bullshit?
“Then, when you’re ready, you go through the box of Simon’s things that I packed up from your old place.”
“What?” I blinked, trying to decide if what I’d just heard was real.
He gripped the back of my neck and squeezed tight. “You can be pissed, upset, whatever you like that I went there without your permission. But I knew you wouldn’t take them, Jameson, and I won’t let that be another thing you regret.”
My eyes blurred as I stared at him, stunned into silence. I didn’t know what to say or feel about what he’d just told me, but I wasn’t upset.
“The box is in my office. Whenever you want it, it’s yours.” He gave my neck a final squeeze then released me. “Now go. Your guy’s waiting. I’ll bring that bottle back in a few.”
I nodded, reached for the handle, then looked back to my friend and confidant and finally found my words. “Thanks, Jon. For everything.”
“Always, my friend. Always.”
Chapter 35
Ryan
JAMESON HAD BEEN out in the hall for a little while now.
I sat on a cracked vinyl couch in Jon’s office and looked around the small, cluttered workspace. There was a desk on one side with a clunky-looking computer that looked straight out of a nineties sitcom, and an in-tray with a stack of receipts and paperwork on the other side. A filing cabinet sat behind an old desk chair, and on top of that, a large box and a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey.
It looked exactly the way you’d expect the office of a bar owner to look.
I stared at the door, waiting for Jameson to join me, and wondered what they were talking about.
The event, if I had to guess, and what a disaster it had been. Not for the charity but for the relationship I’d been working so hard to establish with Jameson. Tonight had not gone well at all, and it didn’t matter whether I knew about Future’s Hope or not. I’d pushed Jameson into something I knew he wasn’t comfortable with because I wanted him there, and that wasn’t right.
Politely pushy, wasn’t that what I’d told him? And what had he said? That I was good at manipulating people.
Hell, maybe I was. I hadn’t blackmailed Jameson into going tonight, but every time I sensed him getting ready to back out, I’d told him how excited I was and turned on the charm.
What kind of person did that make me?
I got up from the couch and began to pace, wondering how I would ever be able to win back his trust. Sure, he’d kissed me out there in the hall, but that had felt more like an outlet for his frustration. But one thing was for certain: I needed him to understand how sorry I was. I had a feeling that was going to take more than words.
At the sound of the door opening, I turned to see Jameson slip inside, and my breath caught at the sight. In his disheveled tux, he was devastating to look at. But then his eyes locked with mine, and the pain swirling in them sent a pang of guilt through me.
I took a step toward him. “Jameson—”
“Ryan—”
My words came to an abrupt stop. I couldn’t think of another time that Jameson had used my real name, and hearing it now brought home the magnitude of what I’d broken here tonight.
“Look, about tonight. I know it wasn’t your fault.”
I stared at my feet, finding it easier to say this when I wasn’t looking at him. “Maybe not directly, but indirectly I definitely played a part.” I took a deep, pained breath, my shame filling me. “I knew you didn’t want to go tonight, but I didn’t exactly give you an out, did I?”
“And you think that’s all on you?” Jameson tipped my chin up so I had nowhere to look but at him. “I could’ve been honest, told you that I was uncomfortable, that I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t. So I’m pretty sure there’s enough blame to go around.”
I nodded but still wasn’t convinced. I’d pushed him into doing something he didn’t want to do, while he’d done something because he thought it would make me happy. It was pretty obvious who the good guy was here, and it wasn’t me.
Jameson glanced over my shoulder to the large box that sat on the filing cabinet, then he walked around me and ran a hand over the top of it.
“Tonight was hard for a lot of reasons, and none of them were your fault.” He shrugged. “I’ve been carrying a lot of baggage around for a long fucking time, and tonight I dumped it all at your feet.”
I walked over, wanting to somehow comfort him. But I hesitated, unsure if that was what he wanted.
“You know what’s in this box?”
I had no idea. All I saw was a logo for bulk paper towels.
“Simon’s things. Jon went back to my old place before they changed the locks and packed them up for whenever I was ready to come get them.”
My heart ached at the careful, almost loving way Jameson stroked the box again. Then he looked at me, and the vulnerability in his eyes had me reaching for him. I placed a hand over his and interlaced our fingers.
“Are you ready now?”
“I want to be.” He looked back to the box and shook his head. “But I’m not there yet.”
I squeezed his fingers, then cupped his face with my other hand and slowly turned him my way. “It’s okay not to be ready yet. There’s no timeline for something like this. But what if we take it with us?”
I could see the indecision in his eyes as he struggled with the idea of facing his demons head-on, knowing there was tangible proof of all that grief right there inside that box.
“You don’t have to open it right now or even anytime soon. You can just store it back at our place, and when you are ready, it’ll be there for you.”
Jameson nodded and then lowered his head so his forehead was resting against mine. “I’m sorry about tonight, GQ. For losing my shit.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” I took his face in my hands. “Really. Nothing at all.”
Jameson closed his eyes, gripped my wrists, and pressed a kiss to my lips. I melted into him, giving him whatever it was he needed from me in that moment. He let go of my hands, and I wound them around his neck, then Jameson pulled me into his arms.
The kiss was soft, sweet, and full of apology as we stood there in the cramped office. I ran my fingers into the back of his hair, but then the sound of his cell phone ringing filled the air.
Jameson slowly released me, pulled his phone from his pocket, and frowned. He held up a finger and turned his back to me.
“Hello? Amy?”
Amy? Jameson’s sister?
I moved to the other side of the room to give Jameson some privacy, but I didn’t miss the tense set of his shoulders as he listened.