Page 77 of The Way Home

Four pairs of eyes glared at him, waiting for him to share. He knew they wouldn’t let it go.

“Yes, Jamie is home. And things are fine. We are just… figuring out a new normal. I guess.”

“A new normal?” Sally asked. “What’s that mean?”

Never one to beat around the bush, Dillion asked, “You thinking about breaking up?”

Caleb’s head shot up. “No. We’re not breaking up.”

Sally slapped her teammate on the shoulder. “Dillion,seriously?”

“Then what’s weird?”

Caleb frowned. “It’s me… I’m being weird. Jamie’s really trying, but I can’t stop worrying that he’ll leave again.”

They all fell silent, sending glances to each other in their secret teammate code.

Sally cleared her throat. “Maybe… maybe you have to try, too.”

Another silence stretched.

Caleb sighed. She was right.

Dillion stood and stretched her arms. “Alright, we gotta go. Team meeting. Get out of here, Caleb. Go see your man.”

Angie and Sally hopped up, giving him fist bumps.

“You got this!”

“Don’t worry, Caleb!”

“He loves ya!”

Caleb packed up his things and headed home.

After an extremely wet drive home, Caleb bolted into the apartment building and shook his head like a wet dog, water droplets flying everywhere. He liked pretty much everything else about London and living abroad, but Christ—did iteverstop raining? It was April, for God’s sake.

At least the Chelsea raincoat was decent quality and kept him mostly dry. Eager to get the hell out of his soggy shoes, Caleb unlockedthe door and rushed inside, toeing off his trainers and shrugging out of the coat in one clumsy motion. His shoulder protested, the quick tug sending a bolt of pain through it.

“Hey, J! I’m—” He froze as he straightened and noticed Jamie standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

“Holy shit,” Caleb said, striding forward in damp socks and glancing around. “You cleaned.”

“Oh.” Jamie startled and looked around, like he hadn’t tidied and organized the entire living room. “Oh. Yeah, I did.”

Jamie’s hair was styled neatly, the way he wore it to work, but he’d already changed into sweatpants that hugged his biker thighs perfectly and the fadedCoca ColaT-shirt he’d stolen from Caleb’s drawer. It was too big for him and made his eyes look impossibly green.

Caleb loved him like this.

All soft and comfortable, with his glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were open and bright, tracking Caleb eagerly as he moved across the room.

“Thank you,” Caleb said, striding forward and stopping in front of him.

“No worries,” Jamie replied. “I know I produce a lot of clutter.”

It was true, Jamie produceda lotof clutter. Always leaving his wallet on one surface, his keys on another. Even though it was 2025, somehow he still carried around loose change. Caleb found it adorable and, weirdly, also relieving that he was treating the apartment likehomeagain.

“Are you playing music, too?”