Page 2 of The Way Home

“Bollocks,” he muttered, tugging his bike free from a patch of icy slush. How had the temperature dropped so fast? His crotch was at risk of freezing off.

London had gotten record snow this January, and even after living here for several years, Jamie was still starry-eyed for it. There was something magical about the white on the tall buildings, the light twinkling like tiny stars off the fluffy snow lining the streets…

It was fantastic, and he couldn’t wait to eat mushroom risotto with his man by the window of their flat.

He sped past a few other cyclists on Carriage Drive, hearing the delighted giggles of the kids playing in the snow over at Hyde Park. The Statue of Achilles to his left reminded him of the upcoming exhibit he’d be curating at the Library this month, all about their manuscript collections. Finally, the library gave him anentireexhibit to plan all on his own. His stomach gave a happy little flutter as he slowed to a stop at the Stanhope Gate crossing.

Everything was falling into place.

Nothing hadendedwhen he came out as gay, despite what the demons in his mind had so often tried to convince him. His career had taken off. He had the best friends and family in the world. All because, three years ago, he’d taken a chance and biked across London, so nervous it was a miracle he hadn’t vomited, just to meet a stranger. A stranger he now lived with, was making risotto for, and was throwing a surprise party for.

Oh, and marrying.

Bloody hell, he still couldn’t believe they were gettingmarried.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and his AirPods read out the message in a robotic voice.

From Mum: I think I found you a venue. Gorgeous and, according to Pippa, is just as gay as you are. Her words, not mine.

Jamie smiled. That did sound like Pippa.

As the light turned green, he pushed off toward his flat in Soho, mushrooms in tow, ready to—

“Stop!”

A voice from his right pulled his attention just as a bus flew through the red light, horn blaring, and came hurtling toward his bike. The sound of metal screeching and people yelling filled his ears as his body was thrown into the air.

The last thing Jamie thought as the snowfall faded to black was that it would be a shame to waste such expensive mushrooms.

Chapter 1

3 years ago

Caleb had alwaysthought mocktails had cheesy names, but the ones on this London bar’s menu definitely took the cake.

“Can I have the, uh—Notting Hill Nectar, please?” he called to the bartender over the music.

She was short, and Caleb wasn’t quite sure how she was reaching the bottles on the top shelves, but with a quick glance and a nod, she pulled a glass from the rack and got to work.

Back in Youngstown, if you asked for a mocktail, you’d get a death glare and a frosty Pepsi shoved into your hand like you were a kid. Here, they had a whole damn menu dedicated to “spiritless cocktails.”

Maybe London would be alright.

He set the menu back on the bar and turned toward the table of soccer players.

Football players,he corrected himself.

Some days, he still couldn’t believe he worked for Chelsea F.C. For the fuckingPremierWomen’s League.

One minute, he was living in Chicago as the assistant athletic trainer for the university. Next, one of his athletes was being transferred to the Premier League, and he got a call from Chelsea to pack his bags.

Unreal.

A long arm wrapped around his shoulder. “To the new AT!” Dillion Hawthorne, star forward on Chelsea, shouted, squeezing him with one arm while raising her drink with the other.

Before Caleb could correct her—assistantathletic trainer—the rest of the table joined in.

“To the new AT!”