I took a breath and jumped right into it, not giving myself a chance to chicken out. “I want to start by thanking you again for taking care of me on Saturday,” I began. “You didn’t need to do that, but you did anyway, and you probably saved me from getting into even more trouble.” I cleared my throat. “I texted you because… Well, frankly, I feel bad for how I behaved in the coffee shop. We may disagree on the stuff that happened with—” I lowered my voice, as if his name weren’t meant to be spoken. Maybe between us, it wasn’t, “—Oliver and I, but you’re trying to get better, and I shouldn’t have trounced your attempt at making amends. So I want to apologize for that and tell you I accept your apology. I think after the club… I realized you’re genuinely trying to change, and I wanted to acknowledge that. I know it must be tough.”
The whole time I was talking, he watched me intently, but when I finished, he turned his head toward the water. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared at the crashing waves in the distance, tension wrinkling the skin around his eyes.
I sipped on my water, occupying my restless hands with the glass. Had I offended him with my little speech? I didn’t really know how to talk about what he was going through. Besides him, I didn’t know any addicts, recovering or otherwise. Maybe I needed to pay more attention in my class.
I decided to ask. “Did I say something wrong? I hope I didn’t offend you.”
He turned back to me immediately. “No, not at all. I just needed a second.” His eyes were glassy before he blinked the sheen away. “After years of numbing out my feelings, sometimes I feel too much these days. I’m…touched by your words.”
“Oh.” His vulnerability was disarming. I smiled. “That’s good. I guess.”
“It’s not good that me acting like any decent person would in that situation was such a surprise to you. I know you probably haven’t thought very fondly of me all these years.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “In some ways, I’m glad I got a real chance to change your opinion. It’s a rare gift that I probably don’t deserve. Thank you, Ivy.”
“You’re welcome,” I said numbly. He seemed humbled by whatever he’d gone through. Where was the Jamie who’d shamelessly made out with groupies whenever the opportunity presented itself?
He cradled his jaw with his palm as he watched my expression, then he chuckled against his hand. “You’re trying to make sense of it all. I can see it in your face. I’ve gotten good at picking up on it, since I’ve seen it so many times over the past few months.”
I folded my hands on the table. “Before we met for coffee, the last time I saw you, you were being carried out on a stretcher. So, yeah, it’s all a little hard to process.”
He rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry you had to see that. That was a bad night. It was the last time I drank.”
“You just went cold turkey afterwards?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. Went through withdrawal in the hospital. You know, they always warn you about how brutal physical withdrawal symptoms are, but the reality is they’re nothing compared to the psychological loss one feels when that old safety net is no longer there. At least, that’s how it was for me. That’s why I knew I needed to get proper support as soon as I got discharged. Checked myself into rehab while I was on the way to the airport, and I managed to resist the free cocktails the stewardess offered to me three times.”
“How did you manage that?” I asked, a little surprised with how openly he was sharing all of this.
He chuckled. “You’re going to laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“The woman sitting beside me had a support animal with her. She took one glance at me once we got to ten thousand feet and handed me the mini poodle. Said I looked like I needed it more than her. So I played with this ten pound bundle of fur for the entire flight, and next thing I knew, we were starting the descent.”
A giggle burst out of my lips, and Jamie gave me a chastising look.
“Sorry,” I rushed to say. “It’s just kind of adorable. Did it inspire you to get a pet?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I haven’t pulled the trigger yet.”
“Well, seems like you’re doing just fine on your own,” I added.
A salty breeze picked up and sent one dark strand flying over his forehead. He moved it back with a sweep of his hand. “You know,” he said, his voice taking on a somber tone, “everyone tells me how much I’ve changed, but I think I’ve just returned to who I was before I let my life nearly slip away from me.”
“Your old friends must be glad to have you back,” I offered.
His smile was sad. “I didn’t have many friends back then. I was a bit of a loner before Ritual Disruption took off. It’s much easier to make friends when you’re known as the guy who’s guaranteed to give them a good time, even if he ends up passed out in his own vomit by the end of the night.”
I flinched. God, that sounded awful.
His brows pulled together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overshare—”
The waitress returned to the table with our orders, interrupting him, and giving me a moment to process what he’d just said. A loner? For the first time, I wondered what had started Jamie’s habit. Had it been his way of changing himself to fit the image of a rock star? I wondered if he’d started drinking for the same reason I’d taken Molly two nights ago—to become someone different.
“I don’t mind listening,” I said as soon as the waitress left. “And I can relate. Not to the vomit part, but the whole being a loner thing.”
He shot me a curious look. “Never would have pegged you as one. You seemed pretty social on tour, based on the little I saw.”
I stuffed a forkful of rice in my mouth as I considered my response. Did I want to get into my rationale for going on that tour? I decided there was no harm in it. After all, even if he thought I was ridiculous, this was likely the last time we’d talk.
