Page 127 of The Way Home

Bri squeezed his arm once before turning and jogging toward the car, where Mike held the door open for her. Caleb watched them for a moment before Jamie appeared beside him.

Caleb pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up his email.

“Y’alright?” Jamie asked, sliding his hand into Caleb’s.

“Just sending off an email to Halcombe,” Caleb muttered, trying not to sound as upset as he felt. “Telling him I won’t be back for the Arsenal match.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s, erm… yeah. That makes sense.”

“It’s fine.” Caleb hit send and stuffed his phone back into his pocket before turning to Jamie with his best attempt at a smile. “Really. I want to be here for my dad and… Bri.”

“Yeah.” Jamie’s lip twitched slightly, adjusting the takeout bag in his grip. “Me too.”

“Ya know,” Caleb said, leading Jamie back down the street to the house. “Getting through my mom’s service without you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’m...” Caleb swallowed. “I don’t know how I’d be doing any of this without you, J.”

Jamie squeezed his hand.

“And you’ll never have to.”

Chapter 34

It had beena week since they arrived in Youngstown, and Caleb felt more exhausted than ever. His head felt like it weighed a million pounds, and the food he forced down tasted like lead.

Theclick clackof Jamie typing on his phone was starting to give him a headache. After another few deep breaths, Caleb couldn’t take it anymore.

“Who are you texting so much?”

Jamie looked up from his pancakes with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “Oh—sorry. Just Sally. And JB.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes and glanced at the phone still in Jamie’s hand. “You’re acting strange.”

“What? I am?” Jamie blinked innocently at him. They were sitting in a red booth at Lucy’s Diner, the little place down the street that somehow managed to whip out breakfast at lightning speed and brewed the strongest coffee in town.

“You never text this much.”

Jamie looked away sheepishly. “I… well, I’m just trying to keep everyone back home up to date.”

Caleb sighed. He didn’t need to take out his frustrations on Jamie. Softening his voice, he asked, “JB said the exhibit went well? Everything good?”

“Yeah. Clarence only fumbled a few things.” Jamie rolled his eyes. Caleb fiddled with the fork in his hands, pushing his eggsaround the plate. He knew if he didn’t pretend to eat, Jamie would get on him.

“What about Sally and Ang? They okay?”

Something was off. Jamie had been getting shifty whenever Caleb asked about anyone from the Chelsea team. “J…”

“Halcombe cut you from camp,” Jamie blurted. His cheeks turned pink as his eyes dropped back to his pancakes. “They told me a few days ago, but I… I didn’t want to tell you.”

Instead of feeling angry, Caleb just felt the exhaustion in his chest get a little heavier. Figures. Theonething he’d actually been looking forward to this summer.

“Okay.”

Jamie’s head snapped up. “Okay? What do you mean?” Suddenly, he looked furious. “It isnotokay. You are here supporting your sick father, and thatwanker—”

“It’s okay, Jamie. You don’t need to get mad.”

“What?” Jamie planted both palms on the table and stared at him. “What do you mean? How are you not more upset?”

Caleb shrugged. His shoulder ached. “Nothing I can do about it. I’m missing the last two games of the season. I’m sure that’s his excuse for cutting me.”