Page 54 of The Way Home

Why was Jamie upset about Will? As far as Caleb knew, he was a nice guy. Quiet, and talked about books a lot. Anytime they were together, Caleb had to drag Jamie away from whatever book-related discussion he was having with the man.

He typed back.

Do you think he still wants to go out tonight?

Ellie

Probably not, but take him anyway. He needs this. He feels like a burden to all of us.

Caleb’s heart sank. Had he made Jamie feel like a burden? He hoped not.

Another ding.

Ellie

Take him out and feed him sourdough. He’ll be okay. I promise.

For bloody sake, though, don’t let him have anything peppermint.

Caleb smirked at his phone. Jamie was wildly allergic to peppermint and in complete denial about it. He stuffed his phone back into his bag as the bus pulled into the stadium. The team was quiet after the brutal loss against Liverpool and, understandably, the women were all in shitty moods. The ride home had been practically silent.

After a few fist bumps to the players, Caleb got in his G.T.I. and headed home. He had an hour to make himself presentable for their private room at Gaucho and try to show Jamie a good time.

In all honesty, he was fucking nervous.

All he wanted was for Jamie to feel loved and adored, without being smothered. A difficult balance, when every instinct in Caleb urged him to pull Jamie close and never let him go. He wanted to romance the hell out of him, to coax that beautiful blush back into his cheeks, and make him laugh again. The real laugh, the one that crinkled the skin beside his eyes and made him throw his head back.

Had Jamie laughed at all since the accident? Caleb didn’t think so.

“Hey, J. It’s just me.” Caleb announced himself as he opened the door to his apartment. He hurried to toss his sweatshirt into their washing machine and quickly hung his coat on a hanger in the hall closet. The moment he closed the hallway door and glanced toward the bedroom, he froze. His bag dropped to the floor, along with his jaw.

“Holy shit,” he breathed as he took in Jamie standing in the doorway in his navy suit. Fuck, he’d forgotten about that suit.

His brain short-circuited as his gaze traced the crisp white shirt, open at the collar, exposing the smooth line of Jamie’s throat. Hisbrown curls had been slicked back with just a touch of product, catching the evening light.

The man looked like a fucking runway model.

Caleb’s hands itched to slide into those curls and undo all that careful restraint, to follow the clean lines of Jamie’s shirt and feel every ridge and curve of Jamie’s chest.

“Holyshit.”

Jamie fiddled nervously with his sleeve. “Do I look okay? Is this too fancy?”

“You’re perfect.”

The words slipped out before Caleb could even stop to think that maybe it was too much. Jamie looked up, and his face softened fondly. His eyes looked so green in that suit, and Caleb felt his body flush as they roved over him from head to toe. He could have sworn he saw them darken before Jamie seemed to remember himself and cleared his throat. He moved off to the side and indicated the bedroom.

“Do you need the shower?”

Caleb unstuck his feet from the floor and flew into the bedroom. “Yep, I’ll be super quick.” He took the fastest shower of his life, threw on his black suit, and ushered Jamie down to the lobby. For the entire elevator ride, Caleb felt Jamie’s eyes on his profile. He hoped he looked decent.

Jesus, he was nervous.

“I thought we could take the Tube,” Caleb said. “That alright?”

“Great.” Jamie’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Caleb knew he missed his bike.

The ride there, Caleb went back and forth about holding Jamie’s hands. His long fingers always fidgeted in his lap when they were out in public—Jamie’s social anxiety was especially bad on trains and buses—but he also didn’t want him to feel obligated to hold his hand. Or do anything physical for him, for that matter.