Page 91 of The Way Home

“Come here.” Caleb rested a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, gently guiding him around so he could spoon him. Jamie let himself be moved, too tired to do anything but sink back into the warmth of Caleb’s chest. Once tucked under Caleb’s strong arms, he realized just how much of a mess they’d made. The thought made him cringe.

“I should probably go to the loo and clean off,” he said sleepily, not feeling like his muscles could even move.

Caleb leaned into the crook of Jamie’s neck, pausing to give him a kiss. “You stay right here. I’ll handle it.”

The heat of Caleb’s chest disappeared, and Jamie lay flat on his back, willing his heart rate to slow. Even knowing this wasn’t his first time having sex, it still felt like it in some ways. He had the ridiculous urge to text JB and tell him about it. Good Lord, what had he become?

Chapter 23

“Why are wedoing this, again?” Sally asked for the fifth time, crunching on a carrot stick. They stood on the balcony of Caleb and Jamie’s flat, enjoying the first afternoon all week that it hadn’t been pissing down rain.

Caleb swiped at his forehead with the back of his wrist. He felt a clump of soil catch on his skin.

“Because I do this for him every year.”

Sally eyed the neat row of terracotta pots lined along the railing. Empty seed packets were scattered in a pile by his sneakers while he carefully pressed seeds into the soil. So far, he’d planted thyme, sage, and oregano. Basil would have to wait until May.

“Not to stereotype,” she said, pointing the carrot at him, “but I feel like Jamie should be the one doing this.”

Caleb snorted. “Why? You don’t think I can plant some herbs?”

“No, because he’s the one who bangs on about the environment all day, every day.”

She wasn’t wrong. Jamie had always wanted an herb garden on their balcony. That was why Caleb had started doing this for him every spring in the first place.

“Yeah, well,” Caleb said, nudging the pots into a tidy line. “The problem is, Jamie kills everything he touches. He desperately wants a green thumb, but his gardening skills are fucking terrible.”

Sally laughed between crunches, her freckled face scrunching up with delight. “It’s nice to see you like this, Caleb. You look happy.”

Without looking up, he smiled. “I am, Sal.” The week had been incredible, in fact. Spending time with Jamie, sleeping with him tucked into his chest again, had Caleb feeling lighter than he had in months.

He grabbed the dustpan and swept stray soil from the concrete. “Alright. I’m almost done.”

“Brilliant. I’m nicking the loo before we go.” She popped the rest of the carrot into her mouth and disappeared inside. Caleb watched her red hair disappear into the apartment and smiled to himself. He took one last look at the little urban garden he’d built, letting himself feel proud of the work he’d done.

Standing and dusting his hands on his jeans, he glanced up at the grey London sky to send a quietthank youto his mom for teaching him how to garden. An alert was set on his phone to let him know if frost was in the forecast. He’d have to bring the pots inside if that happened…

“Okay, ready!” Sally announced from behind him.

They drove to the stadium, and, per usual, Sally talked nonstop about how she was feeling about the match. “Arsenal’s defense is brutal, but if Dillion can get a few in early, I think we can hold the lead. Smithy’s not Angie, obviously, but she’s solid. What do you think? Angie’ll be back for Everton?”

“It’s hard to tell. Maybe.” Angie’s ankle had been off and on all season, and now that it was already March, she was at risk of being benched until next year. It was killing her. Caleb reminded her daily that she was young and had plenty of game left in her, but it still sucked.

“Oh… and are you going to Ellie’s thing?” Sally pivoted to the next random thought on her mind. “Her birthday’s next week, and she says she’s got thisfriend.Apparently, she’s fit and wants to set me up…”

Caleb smiled as he turned into the stadium lot, letting Sally burn off her pre-game nerves. It had become a bit of a ritual. He tunedback into the conversation when he heard Sally make a fake-barfing noise.

“Ugh, Holcombe. What a wanker,” Sally muttered as they pulled into their usual spot. The head coach pulled in beside them. The tall man stepped out, slinging a briefcase over his shoulder. Was his expression permanently sour?

“Sal, come on. Be nice. He’s your coach.” Even if Sally was one of his closest friends, he couldn’t openly trash the man to the players. It wasn’t professional, and Caleb needed to work with the guy for the kids’ summer camps coming up.

“Yeah, well, he’s still an arse,” she shot back. “He told Angie she was getting”—she raised air quotes—“‘thick’ and that she should go on a diet. And I heard him tell his son not to ‘act gay’ when he was talking about his mates.”

Caleb flinched. What a prick.

Before he could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and immediately smiled.

Jamie