Page 16 of The Fate Factor

So, cool development: an hour into this reunion and I’m bearing witness to yet another break up for Jamie. I’m trying my hardest not to read into that.

The nurse turns to go, and I contemplate clinging to her scrubs and begging her to stay and act as a full-time buffer for this awkward situation I’ve found myself in. She doesn’t register my mental anguish, though, and I’m left alone with Jamie who looks like he would maybe punch something if he could lift his arm.

“You know, Noel. I’m starting to rethink the whole guardian angel thing.”

I’m desperate to know why he keeps referring to me this way, but I tug at a piece of string on the flannel pajama pants I threw on, pretending to watch the television in the corner.

“This is so fucked up.” He waves a hand between my chair and his bed, and despite the bandages and smell of antiseptic, I blush at the sight of his firm chest, the shadow of abs every time he moves. “You obviously know who I am.”

Blinking away from allthat, I meet his annoyed gaze. We’ll get to that part, but first I need more information. “How long has your family owned the house next to my grandmother’s cottage?”

“Bob’s not my family,” he says. “He’s my mother’s husband, and he’s owned it longer than I’ve known him, which is the last eleven years.”

“Do you crash there a lot?” And what I really mean by that is:Did we sleep next door to each other before I played that party game with you? Maybe even that night?

If so, it’s possible I saw him once before in passing and that’s why my brain chose to cast him in the dream. An entirely rational piece of evidence.

“Not anymore,” he says rather vaguely. He gestures for the juice and I hold it up while he sips. “Bob usually calls me to close it up for him, though. That’s why I have a key.”

“You work for him then?”

Something snarky passes over his face. “I can see why you might think that, but no. I own my own business. The brewery. You really don’t know this?”

I scrunch my nose. “How would I?”

“I don’t know.” He lifts a weak hand to his temple then lets it fall. “I was never clear on how it worked.”

Oh, jeez. He thinks I read his entire life in that candle wax. Or that I can pop in and out of his head on a whim. “It definitely doesn’t work likethat,” I say, and his swollen cheek twitches into a smug smile.

“I knew you were lying about remembering me.”

My body deflates. I don’t want to argue with him. Although, I could certainly point out that our growing irritation with each other is going in theDifferentcolumn too. It looked like we were getting along quite well in the dream.

I’m still not willing to tell him that part, though—the me and him naked part—so I turn back to the TV, my thumbnail ragged now from my teeth.

I should go. He’s a grown man, he can handle the rest of this visit himself. But I just witnessed someone he referred to as “babe” abandon him when he needed help and it put a bad taste in my mouth. And maybe Icouldlearn a little bit more about him, now that he’s here and basically captive. For better or worse, I lost that chance when I bolted the night we met.

I’m not looking to relive that experience, but it’s not like I haven’t wondered about him from time to time, in between longbouts of extreme denial. If ever the wondering might edge out the denying, it would be when I’m back and inexplicably sitting in the Emergency Room with him.

I shift on my plastic chair. “That night,” I say, and my heart riots in warning. “Um… Howdidit work?”

Jamie shifts too, pain rippling across his face as he turns toward me. “You told me I’d get the money,” he says. “And I did. It’s how I opened my brewery.”

Goosebumps trickle down my arms. Okay, maybe I don’t want to know more, because this sounds bat shit. “It’s a coincidence,” I hedge. “I’m sure it would have worked out even if I didn’t tell you that.”

“No, Noel. It wouldn’t have.” He’s suddenly dead serious. “I’d been looking for investors for a while, had a few good leads, but bills were due, and nothing was panning out. My stepdad’s buddy had a job opening. I was pretty much resigned to it the night I met you.”

“The job I told you not to take?”

“Same one. I needed a steady paycheck because I was… well, I’m sure you remember.”

I’m thinking of proposing.“Right.” I swallow.

“It wasn’t a bad gig, managing a bar on the pier in Old Orchard. It was probably better than I deserved at the time. Nepotism at best, but giving up the dream sorta broke my heart. Then you told me to wait, that the money would come. I canceled the interview the next day. Two weeks after that, my neighbor at the time knocked on my door completely out of the blue. I used to bring him six packs from my home brew set up, and it turned out he was sitting on a big settlement for some accident years ago. He offered to invest. I got to open my place. Just like you said I would.”

I pull back, searching his face for a sign that he’s joking. There’s no way he diverted his entire livelihood based on achance meeting with a stranger. A potentially unstable stranger. “What would have happened if you didn’t get the money?” I ask, though I’m not sure I can handle the answer.

“Considering I was barely making rent at the time?” He shrugs. “I would have been broke, possibly homeless. Probably ruined my credit. Most likely, I’d have ended up couch surfing and pouring someone else’s beer instead of mine.”

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