Chapter Four
Jamie nearly stumbled when he saw her. When True had said they’d be here, he’d assumed he meant Hope would be with him. Not his sister.
Not Zee.
Damn, he wasn’t ready for this. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time in the past five days, and he was in no shape to deal with her anger at him. Especially when deep down there was that part of him that resented that she was mad at him. He’d never lied to her, never promised her anything beyond the moment. And yet she acted as if he’d jilted her at the altar, or died on her or something. Died. Damn.
Sorry, Aunt Millie.
It was a reflex thought; his beloved aunt never spoke of her ill-fated love that had ended in a battle-torn place overseas. She had never married, but insisted she was happy. Because, she’d said, she’d gotten something wonderful out of life after all.
Him.
You wouldn’t think so now, Aunt Millie.
And now they were both dead. And he was standing here staring at Zee, who had once been the most wonderful thing in his life.
He recovered and traversed the rest of the steps. True took one look at him and reached out to take the guitar. He thought about resisting, but he trusted the man and he didn’t have the energy or strength anyway. And it took all he had of both to make himself look at Zee.
She was staring, looking as if she was in shock. He knew he looked like hell, and up until he saw that look in her vivid blue eyes, he hadn’t much cared.
“Please,” he said, not even sure what he was pleading for.
After a moment Zee nodded. As if she’d understood what he hadn’t been able to find words for. But then, she always had been good at that.
Keely had grabbed his duffel and backpack, all he’d brought beside the guitar, and brought them over. True took the duffel; Zee grabbed the pack before he could reach for it.
“We’ll look out for him,” True said to the pilot, and he vaguely wondered what Keely had said to them that had brought that on. She reached out and put a hand on his arm. He reflexively looked at her, saw her eyes were full of concern.
“Take care of yourself,” she said. “Or better yet, let them.”
She was not usually so demonstrative. Another measure of how bad he must look, he guessed. “Thank you,” he said, at a loss for any other words.
“Just in case,” she said softly, “it’s been a pleasure.”
He knew what she meant. That she realized what decision he was on the precipice of. With an effort he put some more words together. “I hope we weren’t too much trouble.”
She smiled at him. “Believe me, I’ve flown trouble. You guys ain’t it.”
He managed a fleeting smile back at her. “Thanks for getting the guys…where they wanted to go.”
She nodded. “This is a good place, Jamie. Let it heal you.”
He was tapped out and could only nod.
“If you ever need anything,” True said, and Jamie realized he was talking to Keely.
“Thank you,” she said with a nod. “I know you mean that. I saw that last time.” She glanced around at the airfield, as if looking beyond it. “This is a good place,” she said again.
“It is,” Zee said. “We’ll take care of him.”
Jamie registered that she’d said it without malice, or any of the antagonism he usually got from her. And there was something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in a very long time, something beside the concern she would show any injured creature. Which is what he felt like just now. He managed to get to the car. Barely. Zee’s car? He thought it must be. True drove a work truck.
He put a hand on the roof of the car—a practical green sedan, nothing flashy except the color, which was a bit brighter than the oak leaves this spring—to steady himself. True popped the trunk and put the bags in. He thought foggily he should tell him not the guitar, but then saw he didn’t have to; True had closed the trunk without putting the case in, knowing somehow he’d want it with him.
“Are you on something? Using?” He stared at True, blinked rather slowly at the abrupt and unexpected question. “Do we need to get a doctor?”
Oh. “I…no. Don’t. Not for a long time.”
“When was the last time you slept?” Zee asked. Slowly he shifted his gaze to her face. Her voice had matched that look in her eyes, and a shiver went through him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the Zee who wasn’t mad at him.
“Last night,” he got out.
“For how long?”
“Couple hours.” She just looked at him. “If you add it up,” he said.
“A couple of hours in the last week, I’m guessing,” she said briskly. “Get in the back. Lie down.”
“I—”
“Just do it, Jamie.”
His name. She’d said his name. Softly. Without that edge in her voice. He felt like she’d stroked him. He did as she asked. He’d do anything she asked, when she talked to him like that.
He was asleep before the car started.
*
“Where are we taking him?”
True gave her a sideways look, then glanced at the backseat.
“He’s out for the count,” she said.
“And looks like hell.”
“Yes. He does.”
“It’s been a rough week for him.”
“Yes. But…”
“What?” True asked.
“It’s more than that. Derek dying, I mean. Not that that’s not bad enough, but…I can see that it’s more than that. I sensed something even when he was here in March, for Hope. Under all the charm, something was wrong.”
“I’ll never argue with you when it comes to understanding him. You always did.”
“For all the good it—” She stopped the words. That quiet, almost desperate plea flashed through her mind. And only now did she realize what a reflex being mad at Jamie Templeton had become.
“You never were one to kick a guy when he’s down.”
She met her brother’s gaze. “I shouldn’t be kicking him at all. He never promised me anything.”
“And it’s been seven years.”
“Yes.”
“Still raw, though?”
“Only when I think about it.”
“I’d say take his stuff out of your song rotation, but I get the feeling it would only remind you why it wasn’t there and you’d be back to square one.”
Her mouth quirked. “For a guy, you’re pretty smart, bro.”
“Wow, thanks a lot,” True said, but he was fighting a smile.
“It’d help if he wasn’t so damned good.”
“So he deserved that award, huh?”
Zee flushed despite herself. The day last summer when a big online music site had given Jamie their “The Rocker We’d Most Like to F♥♥♥”—they’d actually used the damned little hearts—award had been a rough one for her. It was the day she’d finally let go of any dream or hope she’d had that he would someday come home. He was well and truly of that world now, with little trace of the boy from Whiskey River left.
“I meant his music,” she ground out.
“So did I,” True said blandly. “I meant the Beat Magazine award, of course.”
“Sure you did.” Sometimes he was such a…a brother.
It was a rough few minutes of silence, during which she fought off the memories of those sweet nights when anything had seemed possible, even Jamie changing his mind. She should have known, in fact she had known, for even with only the accompaniment of that simple guitar, with the breeze rustling the leaves around the tree house, he had been something very, very special. And she had told him so.
You can’t have it both ways, girl. You can’t tell him he could go all the way and then try to hold him back.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” her brother said.
“I did it to myself,” she muttered.
“Then why take it out on him?”
“Because he wasn’t here.”
It was a moment before True said, very carefully, “I suppose that makes sense in your mind.”
“As much as anything does right now.”
“Zee—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on him. Like you said, I don’t kick a guy when he’s down. And he is most assuredly that.”
“Which brings us back to your original question. Where are we taking him? Aunt Millie’s place obviously isn’t habitable.”
She shrugged. “You and Hope have an empty guest room.”
“So do you.”
She went still. “Oh, no, Truett Mahan. Don’t you ask for that. I’ll help look out for him, but I can’t live with him in my house.”
To his credit, he didn’t push. “If our place is too close, he could probably stay with Kelsey and Deck until he figures out what he wants to do.”
“But we promised we’d take care of him.”
They were coming into Whiskey River now, and he slowed. He glanced at her with an odd expression. “Is this how it’s been for you? This constant internal war about him?”
She let out a long breath. It sounded so…silly when he said it out loud.
“At first, when you started seeing Nick,” he said, “I thought you might be past it.”
“So did I.” Nick had been a decent guy, and he’d genuinely cared, but their relationship had had none of the spark she knew she would need to truly put Jamie Templeton behind her.
“Zee, it’s been—”
“I know.” She shot him a sideways look. “Have you forgotten Amanda?”
Once he would have winced as if she’d struck him. Now, thanks to Hope, he just looked thoughtful. “No. And I never will. But that’s different.”
“Very. But in a way, the Jamie I knew, my Jamie, might as well have died.”
“And you blame him for changing?”
“Not any longer,” she said with determination. “I’m chalking it up to life’s lessons and moving on.”
She meant it. And when he was lying in her backseat, practically comatose, looking like a shell of himself, it was easy to believe she could do it.