Page 38 of The Fate Factor

“Maybe.” He shifts his hips so they’re square, putting more weight on me. “You know, I get what you mean about loving something but also feeling oppressed by it. I feel that way about this whole city sometimes. Like it knows me as someone I’m not anymore, and I’m trying to get used to the new fit.”

“What does it know you as?” I ask quietly.

“I wasn’t a well-behaved kid. Teenager.” He winces. “Early adult.”

“In what way?”

“Nothing that went on my permanent record or anything. I got into trouble at school. And out of school.”

I’m quiet, watching my thumb press into his skin. It feels as though this confession of his is pressing back. The guilt in his voice doesn’t entirely match my first impressions of Jamie—carefree, a little daredevilish. His confidence has done nothing but shake mine since we met, but something new starts to come into focus behind that cocky, easy-going vibe. A vulnerability he’s showing me. I have to swallow against a sudden rush of affection for it.

“And then what?” I ask, softening the stroke of my thumb to a caress of his hairline. Something meant to comfort. “You left your wicked ways behind and grew up to be a successful businessman?”

He waits a long time before deciding on, “Something like that.”

I’m warned off of prying any more when he tosses me a grin over his shoulder that feels like a curtain being swung shut.

“Well, then,” I say lightly, letting him off this hook he’s hung himself on for my benefit. Solely to make me feel understood. “You get why I needed to get out of there tonight.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“See? Even trade. Now stay still.”

He settles his shoulder into the couch cushion, and I press the ice back into place. He’s quiet for so long, I think maybe he’s finally found enough relief to sleep. But then his scratchy, quiet voice cuts through the easy silence. “Do you want to stay and watch a movie with me?”

“Yeah.” I smile at the back of his head. “I do.”

twelve

Jamie

Mondaymorning,I’matthe brewery before the sun even comes up. It’s brew day and I’ve never missed one, broken bones be damned. I check on the beers we have in the cellar, schedule deliveries for the rest of the week—all the things I can accomplish with my ass in a chair.

The guys who work for me have had to pick up a lot of slack since I can’t shovel grain or move kegs, and navigating the wet floors on an unstable knee is too risky even for me, so I DoorDash them some coffee and doughnuts as a thank you before I head over to the taproom to meet Wes.

By the time I pull into the parking lot, my entire body is aching, which has the inconvenient side effect of reminding meof Noel’s hands on me last night. Her fingers at the back of my neck.

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be touched by a woman like that, soft andtender. Her pretty laugh chiming beside me while we sat shoulder to shoulder watchingLittle Miss Sunshine. I could still smell her perfume on my couch this morning.

It’s been years since I found myself replaying a night with a woman, and the realization jerks through me like a snap of fingers in front of my face.

I hold open the door with my crutch and struggle my way into the bar, making it halfway through before it slips and hits me in the ass.

Em busts out laughing. “Smooth like butter, Jameson.”

I give her the finger and pick the damn things up, limping the rest of the way to the bar without them. I only brought them because Noel told me I should. “Thanks for the help, dick. You laugh at old ladies trying to cross the street too?”

She presses a hand to her chest. “Never. But you looking anything but cool always makes my day a little brighter.”

I wink at her. “It’s so rare, I can see why.”

“Sure, J.”

“You’re late.” Wes emerges from the hall to his office, his expression a portrait of annoyance. I’m not in the habit of letting that bitchy tone slide from him, but I’m too exhausted to scrap with my brother right now. And I am actually almost fifteen minutes late.

“I forgot to set a reminder on my phone,” I tell him. A fatal mistake for my chaotic brain. Especially when all of my executive functioning is being used to manage multiple broken bones. “Sorry, man. Pain’s messing with my head.”

Wes is unmoved. “Here are the numbers for the launch.”

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