A Love Letter to Whiskey
Page 28

I nodded, face still against his chest, and he quickly pressed a kiss to my forehead before letting me go and motioning to the Jeep. He climbed in first, but my skin was burning from where his lips had touched it. My fingers rubbed the spot as I circled the Jeep before sliding into the passenger seat and buckling my seatbelt.
Jamie turned on his playlist and shot the volume up to seventeen before even putting us in drive. Andre Gagnon started off the soundtrack for the night, Like the First Day serving as a beautiful backdrop to a not-so-beautiful feeling building in my stomach.
It was different being in Jamie’s Jeep without the top down. All the windows were up and the heat was on low, making the music sound even louder than usual. But there were some things that never changed, like the way Jamie’s thumb just barely slid up and down the steering wheel, giving him away. Or how he cracked his neck quickly and quietly, just like he had in high school.
At first I sat rigid, waiting for Jamie to tell me what had happened, but after twenty minutes had passed without a word, I knew he needed time. So, I kicked off my boots and propped my sock-covered feet up on his dash. Jamie didn’t smile or turn down the music to talk, but he let out a long, slow exhale, and I knew in that moment that just me being beside him was setting him at ease.
That knowledge made my chest tingle.
It wouldn’t be much longer until the weather would even out again. Southern California was mild practically year-round, but I actually kind of enjoyed the cold front we were having. It was nice to cozy up, even if just for a few weeks.
We drove in that same pleasant silence we always found when we were together, enjoying his playlist and avoiding real life for a while. After an hour, I thought about reaching for the volume knob, but I didn’t have a cat joke this time. I didn’t have the right words to tackle what Jamie had on his mind. This time, I’d have to wait for him, and I was okay with waiting all night if he needed me to. I guess I should have been thinking about Ethan, wondering if he would find out, if he would be mad — and in a way I did worry about those things. But it wasn’t enough to keep me from Jamie when I knew he needed me.
Two hours passed faster than I thought they could. It was easy with great music and new sights. Jamie didn’t seem to have any destination in mind as he cruised the streets of San Diego. We drove slowly through Mission Valley and Pacific Beach before winding up through Bird Rock toward La Jolla. Eventually we both rolled our windows down, me hanging my hand out the window and surfing the air waves as the heat still blasted high enough to keep me from freezing.
I was in a daze, lulled by the music and the steady hum of the engine when I realized we were slowing down. Jamie pulled into a parking space on the side of a street and I could smell the salt of the ocean. He didn’t speak, just cut the engine before hopping out and grabbing a large bag from the back. I rolled out after him, following his steps without a word.
He wound us through a few small houses and a grove before walking onto a secluded little beach. It couldn’t have been more than two-hundred feet in length, half that in width between the grove and the water. There were a few lights on in the houses off in the distance, but nothing on the beach itself. It was just us, the sand, the water, and the moon.
Jamie dropped the bag he had in the sand and pulled out a thick woven blanket, spreading it out on the beach. He sat down without hesitating and looked up at me, pulling a second blanket out and patting the spot next to him. I tugged my boots off again, falling down next to him, and he covered us both with the spare blanket. It had to be in the low fifties now, maybe high forties, but with the layers of clothes we were wearing and the blankets, it wasn’t so bad.
I leaned back on my palms, watching as the gentle waves rolled in and waiting for Jamie to speak. He seemed to be waiting for something, too — a sign, maybe — but eventually, he sighed, long and slow, and broke the silence.
“What would you do if everything you had planned for your future went up in flames and there was nothing you could do about it?”
I shifted on my hands, uneasy at the loaded question. “Find a new future, I suppose.”
“What if there wasn’t one?”
Leaning up, I hugged my thighs to my chest and leaned my cheek on my knees. “What’s going on, Jamie?”
He swallowed, the motion visible in the shadow the moon was casting off his jaw. I couldn’t shake how tired his eyes looked, how sad, how defeated. Jamie was sitting there, right beside me, yet he seemed so far away.
“Things have been hard, you know? I mean, we’re in college, but we’re not too dumb to see how the economy is suffering right now. But I never thought it would directly affect me. I think we’re at that age where we just feel invincible, like nothing can touch us, but it can.” He shook his head, picking at the strings on the edge of our blanket. “My dad’s firm is going under. It’s going fast. And I’m here, in California, in fucking college, powerless to do anything to save it and yet depending on it all the same.”
My hand moved of its own accord, reaching out for his. He turned his palm up to meet me and the moment my hand slid into his, he gripped it tight, just like he’d held me in the parking lot. Jamie held onto everything fiercely and unapologetically that night.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad,” he croaked. His hand squeezed and I moved closer, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“But is there a chance it’ll be okay?”
He shrugged. “I guess there’s always a chance.”
“So focus on that,” I said, my eyes on the waves as I breathed in his scent. “Jamie, your father built that firm. It’s been a part of him since he was twenty-six years old. He’s put blood, sweat, and tears into it. Do you think a little recession is going to kill his dream? His baby?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “No way. Because the Shaw’s are fighters. When you see something you want — truly want — you go after it. All of you. And your dad is going to find a way to keep the firm alive. There is no other option for him.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jamie argued, free hand still picking at the blanket. “There’s less of a need for high-end accountants when businesses are tanking. The few clients they have left are seeking out cheaper options, if not battling their own demise.”
“Okay, but this recession isn’t going to last forever. If your dad can just hold on—”