Fight, Jamiee - Ellie R. Hunter Page 0,44

and wakes her up. I wanted to be the one who stirred her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I answer the call from my lawyer while Jamiee’s warm hand travels under my shirt and up my back.

“A date’s been set. You’re up in court three weeks from Monday,” he informs me, sounding distracted.

While I want this over with, having a date brings much more clarity to my life. I have three weeks to sort my life out. To figure out where I land after the trial, mainly with Jamiee.

“That soon?”

“I’ve been pushing for it to be this soon. The last thing we need is for it to drag out. Keep doing what you’re doing, and stay the hell out of trouble.”

Ending the call, Jamiee sits up, withdrawing her hand from under my shirt.

“What is it? Who was on the phone?”

“It was my lawyer. I have court in three weeks.”

“After the wedding?”

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll be celebrating, and then flying back.”

Resting her chin on my shoulder, her arms snake around my upper body.

“Whatever happens, we’ll get through this together,” she promises.

“We will?”

“Of course. We’re in this together now, and always.”

“You mean that, Jamiee? Because I can get through anything if I know you’re at my side.”

She coils herself around me until she’s straddling my waist, and kisses me softly.

“You made shitty decisions that broke us, but I made even shittier decisions that kept us apart for three years. From this moment on, how about we forget the past and just live for the moment?”

“I’m done with living in the moment where you’re concerned, babe. I want to know where we stand.”

Fuck, I’m being needy for the first time in my life, but I need to know.

“Then let me make myself clear, Freddie Tucker. I love you so much. We’ve found our way back to each other for a reason, and I finally believe that reason is because we’re meant to be. So, I’ll be at your side today, tomorrow, at the court hearing, the day after that, and even the year after that, and so on. Even if you try and pull your bullshit again and break up with me, I’m not going anywhere.”

Smiling wide, I pull her flush against me, and press my lips to hers. In one swift move, I have her on her back, hovering above her.

“You believe me?”

“Yeah, I believe you, and I fucking love you more.”

“Not possible,” she whispers.

She has no fucking idea, but I don’t mind arguing the point with her for the rest of our lives.

17

Jamiee

My days are spent with Alice, preparing for the wedding of the century, and my nights are spent with Freddie. With him all over me, tiring me out, there’s no time left to think about anything else. Each day that passes is another day Freddie and I grow even closer, and the past fades to a distant memory. The impending court date has crept up so fast, but with Freddie’s reassurances, I’ve been able to push it out of my mind. Until now, as I look into his eyes, I feel sick not knowing if I’ll be able to hold him this time next week.

“Don’t, babe.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t think about next week. Think about tonight, about tomorrow, when our friends get married, and I get to dance with you on the dance floor.”

I can do that, especially the dancing with him part.

“What about my parents? Are we going to tell them about us?” I ask because it’s going to be strange not being around Freddie after having him at my side these past few weeks.

“What do you think they’ll make of us?” he asks instead.

Smiling, I say, “They’ll be happy for us.”

He doesn’t seem so sure, and my smile falters. “What did they think of Lockheart?”

“Don’t do that, Fred.”

“I want to know, sweet thing. Did he and your dad drink beers on the porch? Did your mom bake him those cookies with extra icing for people she likes? I want to know.”

Pulling myself from his arms, I climb out of bed.

I hate mixing my time with Deacon and my time with Freddie. It’s just another reminder of my fuck-up. Grabbing my clothes from the floor, I begin dressing.

“If you must know, my dad didn’t like him, and my mom never offered him any cookies, let alone extra icing.”

I dare to look at him over my shoulder as I drag up my jeans. The asshole’s smirking, stretching himself out on the bed.

“You know my parents think the world of you.