Page 121 of Happy Hour

“Here...but I’m not sure where,” she grunted heaving me up with her. “I flew out with Lane. We leave tonight for Loudon. Jameson has to be in North Dakota for a meeting with Simplex tomorrow morning. They are thinking of sponsoring his sprint car team but now they want to discusshissponsorship.”

“How come?”

“Tate and Marcus, the President of Simplex, aregoodfriends, which is how Jameson and Riley Racing got the sponsorship in the first place. Tate was not pleased that Jameson supposedly assaulted Chelsea so what did he do, he called Marcus and told him to drop the sponsorship without even talking to Jameson about it. Now Jameson has to tell his side of the story,” Alley led me towards her rental car.

“Where are we going?”

“You need to get some sleep sweetie.” Her phone beeped once and she glanced at it quickly before smiling. “Let’s go.”

“Can I at least have Jack back?” I reached for the bottle still in her hand.

“No.” she jerked it back.

“Why?”

“Because someone else is waiting for you,” she smiled halfheartedly tucking the bottle away. “You need to be sober for this conversation.”

We drove the mile down highway eight until we made it back to my house.

Once she pulled in the driveway she looked over at me, “I’m going to head inside.” Her eyes looked past me toward the chain-linked fence along side of the house.

I followed her gaze and was met with the last person I thought I would see in that moment.

Jameson.

Standing there leaned up against the fence, it was evident he hadn’t slept by the dark circles under his blood shot eyes. Agitatedly he ran his hand through his mess of hair repeatedly.

He was waiting for me.

When I saw him, the tears immediately returned.

I wasn’t mad that he didn’t tell me nor was I mad about what happened in Sonoma—I couldn’t be. I loved him regardless of what he did and as unhealthy as that may be, it was the truth.

With my mom dying and now, Charlie being sick, that proved to me that I couldn’t take this life I’d been given for granted. I couldn’t waste time on being upset or regretting the past.

What good what that do me?

When you had lemons...make lemonade...right?

Stepping from the car, his hands were in his hair. I knew then, by looking at him, he was hurting inside just as much.

Jameson never wanted to hurt me, nor did hewantto keep a secret from me. I knew my best friend and that was not something he would havewantedto do.

He didn’t move from his place against the fence. Shifting his weight, he looked down at his feet when noticed me standing beside the car. That restlessness visible in Charlotte had returned. Only now, it was easy to see that restlessness was a loneliness this lifestyle had created for him.

I trudged over to him, staring at my feet with each heavy step. My face is red, swollen and pathetic looking but I’d been through hell today...who gave a shit how horrible I looked.

Once I reached him, he sighed heavily and nodded his head once, as if he was giving himself some sort of pep talk.

When he spoke, it was low and soft. “I know you hate me...and I hate myself for it.” The despondence in his tone unnerves me.

“I don’t hate you.” I answered immediately wanting to punch myself for sounding so fickle, romance novel, dumb heroine with no spine but it was the truth, I didn’t hate him. I never would. “I couldneverhate you.”

Jameson’s lips twitched slightly into a half smile. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something but then he sighed and looked down again. He was nervous, that vulnerability shinning.

Wanting to ease him, I sat down on the ground beside him. It only took a moment before he slid down the fence, our shoulders touching. Of course, the pathetic in love pit lizard in me leaned her head against his hard warm shoulder.

And just as instinctively as our bond was to the chain-link fence behind us, his head leaned against mine.

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