Page 84 of The Way Home

“Youdiddrink a lot of water at that restaurant.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and wiggled out of Caleb’s arms, scanning the room. When he spotted the bathroom, he glanced back with a quickbe backlook and trotted off.

Without Jamie in his arms, it was a bit easier to move the way he liked. The songs Julo was spinning were definitely meant for grinding, something Caleb was never really into, but helovedto dance. Always had. His mom had taught him at a young age that dancing could cure basically any mood.

And it did. As he danced, he felt the worry and fear of the last few months melt away. Why hadn’t he done this sooner? Had he really let himself turn into some sad, grumpy version of himself?

Arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and he smiled at how much he’d missed Jamie in the short minutes he’d been gone.

“Hey, love.” He chuckled as he leaned into it, thinking of how funny they must look. Jamie was about four inches shorter than him and probably couldn’t even see. Emboldened, Caleb rolled his hips back and ground his ass into Jamie’s crotch.

His blood ran cold at the unfamiliar body behind him. This wasnotJamie.

Large arms yanked him closer. “What the—”

A deep voice growled in his ear. “Figured I’d shoot my shot since your little dork left.”

Caleb jerked forward and tore out of the man’s grip, heart hammering. When he turned, the tall guy who had practically eye-fucked him earlier was just standing there smirking. He looked, amused, like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.

“Don’t touch me. Jesus,” Caleb spat, hands curling into fists. Where the hell was Jamie? He should be back by now.

Stepping away from the man, he scanned the room. Jamie stood near the bar, eyes wide, holding two plastic cups in his hands. His eyes were locked onto the tall man.

The loo inthis speakeasy was not Jamie’s favorite place. But he persevered, the same way he had with the Nigerian food. Zipping his trousers back up, he washed his hands and got out of there at record speed.

As he exited, a few girls bumped into him with a drunken’scuse usand ahe’s cute.

“Pardon me,” he muttered, heading for the bar.

Overall, Jamie was having a splendid time. Not because these activities were necessarily his favorite, but because he hadn’t seen Caleb smile this big in… well, maybe ever. At least, to his memory.

Per usual, his gaze naturally searched for the familiar muscular form of Caleb—and it didn’t take much. Caleb was alone on the floor, a soft smile on his face as he danced to the beat of his favorite music, head tipped back.

Jamie stood there like a sap, watching the disco lights flicker over Caleb’s smooth skin, his strong jaw, and… bloody hell, Jamie wanted himsobad tonight. It made him hard just thinking about the possibility of Caleb doing things to him in bed tonight. His body wasravenousfor this man, and, by the looks of a few others on the dance floor, he wasn’t the only one. A small jolt of insecurity flooded his system.

Why me?

Anytime he watched Caleb out in the world, charming every single person he interacted with, Jamie couldn’t help but think those two words.

Why would a gorgeous, talented, kind man like Caleb want… Jamie? He was so ordinary. There was nothing really spectacular about him.

Swallowing hard, Jamie tried to keep both his emotions and his randiness under control. If he were honest with himself, he wanted to be properly fucked tonight. But he understood why Caleb was hesitant, and he was willing to wait.

Willing to show him he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What can I get you, handsome?” the barkeep asked, leaning across the bar. Striking blue eyes dipped to Jamie’s throat and back up, complementing their dyed blue hair and an enormous neck tattoo of a flower.

“Oh, erm… do you have any mocktails?” Jamie asked, his eyes flicking briefly to Caleb. An extremely tall man was approaching him. Did Caleb know him?

“What?” the barkeep yelled, drawing Jamie’s gaze. “You don’t drink?”

“Oh, erm, not really.” Jamie sort of hated having to explain not drinking. With Caleb’s sobriety, it was second nature to always order a mocktail. He pondered if there was a reason Caleb didn’t drink. He hadn’t asked, though surely at one point he knew…

“Do you like lime?” The barkeep asked.

Jamie shrugged. “Sure.”

“Alright then, sweetheart. I can make you something.”