his demand to stay away from Grace. Torn between anger that it’d taken Adam this long to realize this and relief that his friend believed in him, Jaime said nothing. He didn’t know what to say about anything anymore.
“I also want you to know that I’ll help any way I can, with lawyers and everything.” Adam’s brow furrowed, like he wasn’t sure if Jaime were listening. “And your job at River’s Bend is still waiting for you, too.”
Jaime had the sudden wish to see Grace. To hear her voice. To have her arms around him. To bury his face in that long blonde hair. She could make him feel like a person again.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said. It was all he could say at this point.
Adam nodded, like he understood.
They finished their coffee and drove back to Heron’s Landing, saying little on the way there. Jaime didn’t know if they could ever be close friends again. It was difficult to trust someone who had lost their trust in you, even if it had only been for a day. But he was also so exhausted he could barely think straight. He just needed to go home, he needed to sleep, he needed to call his parents. He knew Adam would let him have his job back, but he didn’t want it anymore. To return to the vineyard, to have his coworkers judging him, always thinking he was going to steal again? To have Chris look at him like a criminal, to have Eric sneer at him?
He’d rather cut his arm off than go back there.
After Adam had dropped Jaime off at his house, Jaime sat in his living room, not knowing how to move. How to think. How to be. It was the strangest feeling. It was like he couldn’t recognize anything in his house. The couch, the photos, the plates on the counter, the leftover food in the fridge—none of it was his. It didn't even smell the same. How did that happen? He hadn’t been gone for longer than day.
As morning passed into afternoon, Jaime got up and took a shower. He threw out the clothes he’d worn to jail. He saw the papers from the police station and it was like something switched inside of him. His exhaustion melted away until only that rage he’d felt inside his cell took over again. His vision turned red, his fists clenched, and he watched himself—like he’d been separated from his body—kneel onto the ground, his head in his hands. A scream tried to escape from his throat, but nothing came out.
He had to get out of here. He put on his tennis shoes and jacket and made his way down to the river, the same spot he’d found Grace all those weeks ago. But when he got there, it was just him and the river, and he was glad of it. He shouted and swore and threw rocks into the water, pacing and swearing and letting all of the blackness pour out of him. It was cathartic; it was exhausting. If he thought about how he was behaving, he’d probably be embarrassed. But it felt good. He exorcised the sharpest corners of his rage until his emotions muted, until he felt drained but relieved.
He collapsed on the riverbank, breathing hard. He laughed a little. He was probably hysterical. He imagined Grace seeing him, telling him he was an idiot. He was an idiot. The biggest idiot in the universe, to fall in love with a girl he’d told himself he couldn’t have.
Jaime stayed at the river, staring at the water flowing by. Many of the usual birds had flown south for the winter, so it was just crows squalling in the trees. After a while, Jaime started to shiver from the cold. He knew he couldn’t sit here forever, even if he wished that he could.
Returning home, he stripped out of his dirty clothes and began packing. Before that, though, he called his parents and told them what had happened. His mother cried while his father had barely spoken, but Jaime assured them that he would get this figured out. He knew he didn’t sound convinced, but his parents didn’t argue. Instead, they pressed him to come home, and he agreed. He needed to go home. It didn’t matter that he was almost thirty years old: sometimes you just needed to go home to your parents when your heart was broken.
Jaime stuffed clothes into his suitcase, snagging shoes