Page 8 of The Way Home
“You’re welcome, and yeah, I love to cook. I like knowing what I’m putting in my body.”
At that, I choked and coughed, spewing stew all over the place. Jeremy quietly handed me a napkin, and I didn’t miss the slight smirk he wore. My cheeks flamed even hotter, and I immediately regretted sitting across from him. God, I was such a mess, and yet, there he was, just as calm as he’d been when I’d almost died on orange soda the first time we met. Of course, thinkingabout that moment brought back the memory of him pushing me against the door and feeling his tongue down my throat.
“Fuck! I… I can’t do this.” I stood up abruptly.
Jeremy’s smirk disappeared and a concerned look came across his face. “Wait, Ri, it’s fine. Just sit back down. Can’t we even just eat together?”
“No, I don’t think I can, clearly.” I held up my crumpled napkin as evidence. Too hungry to abandon the food, I took my bowl and walked toward the hall. Before leaving the room, I looked over my shoulder and said, “Thank you for the stew. It’s delicious.”
Like a complete coward, I hid in the bedroom and ate by myself. Somehow between the dining table and the bed, the food lost its flavor. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t I simply exist in the same room with him without being flooded with memories? How long would it take for me to forget him or the way he made me feel?
I pulled out the new Silver Woods novel from my backpack, needing an escape. Silver Woods was one of my favorite gay fantasy authors, but I'd been putting off reading his newest work because the reviews said it was much darker than his typical stuff. When I was packing, I threw the paperback and a few others in my bag, hoping for some time to read while alone in the woods. Maybe alone in the woods wasn't the best time to go into a dark fantasy, but then again… I wasn't exactly alone. Fuck! Why was he here? Maybe, something twisty and captivating was what I needed to get my mind off him.
I pulled my hoodie off, propped myself against the headboard with a pillow, and opened the book wide, breaking the spine. Yes, I was a spine breaker—better to get it over with at the start and make it easier to hold and read. A well-loved book was a beautiful thing.
As I read the prologue, I heard dishes clanging in the kitchen, making me feel like a piece of shit, thinking of Jeremy going to all that trouble to make dinner for us. He even made it special for me, and I left him to do the clean up all by himself. I tried to ignore him and dwell in my shittiness; he wasn't the only one who could master a stew. Though mine was more of the mental kind that left a bad taste in your mouth. All I managed to accomplish was rereading the same page with no comprehension. Normally, Silver's writing hooked me from the go, but my mind wasn't in a good space for it. I let out a loud huff and put my book on the bedside table.
In my determination to de-stew and get out of my head, I marched back to the kitchen, forgetting my hoodie in my room. I didn't have to let my own funk get in the way of being a decent human even if it meant torturing myself with the sight of a still-shirtless Jeremy.
His back was to me as he hunched over the sink. I'd only gotten a brief glimpse of him earlier, but now…damn! I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his muscled back, wishing I could run my fingers over every contour. I normally didn’t go right to physical desire and wanting to touch someone. I needed a connection first. The problem was Jeremy wasn’tjustsomeone. We’d had a connection, and I’d never forgotten it.
Jeremy looked over his shoulder, catching me mid-stare, but instead of the smirk I expected, he simply gave me the up-nod. “Hey.”
His too-cool reaction made me wish I hadn't run out of the room like a child.Manthe fuckup, Riley.I coughed to clear my throat. “Uh, hey.”
He turned off the water to face me. “What's up, Ri?”
Without the apron covering his front, his toned abs and pecs were just right there, all out in the open, looking sexier than ever. He'd always been fit, but I hadn't seen this much of hisbody in a long time, and he looked like he could be on the cover of a magazine. It was then I realized I was also shirtless and didn't look anything like him. I was wiry with no definition to my abs, or anywhere, really. His skin was smooth and shiny, and mine was hairy. I folded my arms over my chest, feeling rather exposed.
I popped my lips as I tried to keep myself in such close proximity to him. “I’m, well, sorry I left the way I did. I really do appreciate the meal.”
Jeremy eyed me carefully, as if he was trying to assess the situation. “Okaaay?”
“Gah, this is so fucked,” I mumbled to myself, as I scruffed a hand over my face, wishing I had more chill and could simply accept his presence. When my hand fell, I caught Jeremy watching me, still waiting for a better answer, except I didn't have one. I was a coward.
Nodding toward the sink, I said, “Let me finish the cleanup. It's the least I can do since you cooked. Uh, and I’m okay with onions now, sparingly. They don’t bother me as much anymore, but it was nice you… uh, yeah. Thanks.”
Jeremy’s features softened. His arched brow slowly came down, and a hint of a smile formed on his perfect lips, drawing me in and making my belly flutter. I was captivated by his mouth and may have stared a little too long. The trance was broken when he moved in a flash, and suddenly a sponge hit me in the chest with a wet thwack, making me jerk and unfold my arms to catch it.
I couldn't help the surprised laugh that popped out of me as I muttered, “Asshole.” There was no heat behind it, and for a moment—one brief moment—we were whisked to the carefree past when we laughed as much as we loved. I wished more than anything that we could stay in that moment, but it was over too soon. Maybe Dr. Horrible was right when he wanted to stopthe world with a freeze ray, but that didn't end well, and this wouldn't either. Jeremy's soft smile fell when he must have seen my expression change. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, moving to let me take over at the sink.
As Jeremy passed by me, he grabbed my forearm and looked me right in the eye, tilting his head back to meet my gaze. He spoke in a soft and sincere tone, holding my attention. “You have a great body, Riley. You don't need to hide it.”
My arm practically burned under his touch, and his words made my throat close up. But then he was gone, leaving me to brace myself against the sink. His touch and his words impacted me more than I expected, even from such a quick interaction.
I wasn't going to survive this. Jeremy Rodriguez was my eternal death. Forever killing me with a deep voice and soft touch, knowing he would never be mine, not in the way I needed him to be. Through blurred vision, I absentmindedly scrubbed at the pot and pan he'd used as my mind decided to go through the reels of our past.
Jeremy had been practically bouncing on his feet when he saw my mom and me show up that night our parents “introduced us.” I had been almost completely numb as he quickly greeted my mom and told his dad he was going to show me around. He'd dragged me to his room, which didn't have bunk beds at the time, closed the door behind him, and kissed me hard. My body had grown so used to his, I couldn't help but react and lean into him, savoring every second of the kiss.
Even now, I could clearly remember the gleam in his eyes when he’d broken the kiss and the excitement in his voice when he’d said, “Can you believe our luck? When my dad was talking about his girlfriend and her son, I just knew it had to be you. Holy shit, Ri! Think of all the sleepovers we could be having…clothing optionalsleepovers.”
The ridiculous bounce of his brows was branded into my mind. He'd made it sound so easy, but it wasn't.
Jeremy
Iabsolutely, one-hundred-percent, caught Riley checking me out. I would have played into it more, too, if the conflicted feelings weren't etched all over his face. Fuck, I really missed when it had been easy between us. We could talk about anything or nothing and simply be content in each other's presence. That was the thing I missed most of all, the contentment I felt being near him.
Just as I'd thrown myself into football when everything went to hell between us, I was ready to do the same thing now. It worked for me then, and I hoped it would work again. Besides, I wanted to be as ready as I possibly could for my interview. I'd never spent as much time preparing for a job as I did for this one. This had to be it. This had to be what I'd been working toward.
