Page 29 of The Way Home

Two hands meant Jamie was worried. Usually paired with sad eyes and a worried frown.

Caleb saw it a handful of times, but never as often as the January after his mother died.

To be honest, Caleb didn’t remember much about that time. A blur, marked only by the fact that he almost always had both of Jamie’s hands on him. Holding his hand, typing on his computer to make funeral plans, and clutching his arm to askone last timeif he needed Jamie to fly back to the States with him.

Ultimately, Caleb decided to go alone.

He’d promised Jamie a slow pace in their relationship, and Jamie still hadn’t come out to his own family. It wouldn’t be fair to force Jamie to come out to Caleb’s family when he wasn’t ready.

So at his mother’s service, Caleb imagined Jamie there instead.

Imagined him beside him. Holding his hand. Supporting him with little squeezes whenever the grief threatened to knock the air from his lungs.

When Caleb returned from Ohio, something between them had changed. Maybe grief had pulled Jamie closer, or maybe losing his mother had stripped away whatever reservations Caleb still carried about the future.

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that he was all in.

Jamie spent just about every night at Caleb’s flat, and each evening in his bed. They learned everything about each other—the good, the bad, and the messy. They supported each other through professional challenges and career growth, Caleb working his way to Head Athletic Trainer and Jamie being offered his own exhibit at the British Library. Integrating themselves into each other’s lives, Caleb found himself becoming close friends with Ellie and Jamie’s entire family.

As winter turned to spring, Caleb couldn’t deny that he had fallen madly in love with the British man.

Jamie consumed most of his waking thoughts and—judging by the way he woke up hard as fuck every morning—most of his sleeping ones too.

He obsessed over what would make Jamie feel happy, comfortable, and most loved. As Caleb learned, he made them a habit. Chief among them: holding Jamie, whenever he got the chance.

Jamie was the most relaxed when in Caleb’s arms.

So, regardless of how sweaty it got, Caleb held him. Jamie’s body to his chest at night, and his hand during the day.

And when May rolled around and Jamie decided to come out to his family, Caleb drove them out to Jamie’s childhood home in Bucks and held his shaky hand through it.

“Where should weput the garbage can?” Caleb asked, holding the white bin up.

“The rubbish bin?”

Caleb smiled and shook his head. “God, you’re cute. Yes, therubbish bin.”

“I don’t sound like that, you tosser!” Jamie tried to shove Caleb’s arm playfully, but moving boxes blocked his path.

Caleb snorted. “I’m not atosser.”

Jamie stepped over the boxes and wrapped both arms around Caleb’s neck. They were both sweaty from carrying boxes in the London heat. Jamie’s heart pounded in his chest as Caleb placed both palms on his low back and pulled him in for a kiss.

The smell of Caleb’s aftershave and sweat surrounded him, making butterflies erupt in his stomach.

He couldn’tbelievethey were moving in together today. Just a year ago, Jamie couldn’t imagine telling his family he was gay. And now…?

“Caleb!” Jamie gasped as Caleb kissed down Jamie’s throat, hands roaming beneath his shirt. “Caleb! My mum and sister will be here in like…” His eyes darted to the microwave clock. “Five minutes.”

“Mmm,” Caleb grumbled into the skin of his neck. “We can be quick.”

“Notthatquick!” Jamie barked out a laugh, pressing both palms against Caleb’s shoulders. He was conscious to avoid the scars he knew were beneath Caleb’s shirt.

Seeing them always made his heart sink, now that he knew what they were from.

Caleb flashed a cocky grin, his brown eyes flicking down to Jamie’s tented trousers, and back up. “But you’re too hard to resist,” he pouted.