Chapter 14
Sam
After pulling into our driveway, Johnny turns back and says, “Wait here.”
Jameson sits up straight, softly groaning with the effort. He watches Johnny slip into the house. “I don’t want to cause any trouble for you. Are your parents—”
“It’s fine,” I assure him.
“Why did he have to go inside then?”
I’m quiet for a minute, thinking about how to answer his question. Before I can give him a reason, Johnny is already making his way back to the car.
He opens my door and crouches down, so he’s at eye level. “They’re both asleep.”
“Good,” I answer, relieved. That’ll make things easier.
“It’s just our brother and old man inside,” Johnny says, looking past me to Jameson. “Neither of them can know you were here.”
“I’m really fine,” Jameson mutters. “I don’t want to create a problem for you guys. You can take me home.”
Johnny shakes his head. “We’ve got you. I’m just gonna need you to be real quiet until we get you into Sam’s room.”
Jameson freezes beside me. “Sam’s room?”
“There’s an empty bed in there. I share a bedroom with my brother, so you can’t stay in my room. Sam used to share with our sister Cathleen, but she moved out.” Johnny glances between us, settling his eyes on Jameson. “I’m trusting you.”
“I would never—”
“I know,” Johnny cuts him off. “Like I said—I trust you.”
Jameson nods, a look on his face that makes it clear how much my brother's show of faith means to him.
“Okay, good,” Johnny says. “Now, a few things before we go in. Our old man is asleep on the couch. It usually takes a lot to wake him, but we still need to be careful.” He pauses, thinking.
“And we’ll need to be out by seven tomorrow morning; that should give us enough time before they wake up.
And if, for some reason, they’re already awake by then, we’ll use the window. ”
I expect Jameson to ask questions, but he just responds, “Got it.”
“Oh,” Johnny adds, “and obviously lock the door.” He turns to me. “You need anything, you come get me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I answer.
Johnny stands and starts to round the car. Before I can slide out of my seat, he’s already opening Jameson’s door and helping him out.
I move to Jameson’s other side, and we slowly make our way up the lawn.
Pushing the front door open, I cringe at the way the hinges creak before we step into the dimly lit living room. All the lights are off, but the glow of the streetlamps and brightness of the TV illuminates the space enough to see our path.
I watch Jameson scan the space, his eyes lingering on my father and the beer cans spread out on the table in front of him.
When we start up the stairs, I hear Jameson suck in a couple of sharp breaths, but he manages them without complaint.
We make it into the hallway, which is nearly too dark to see. Luckily, Johnny and I can navigate our little house blindfolded. We guide Jameson between us until we make it to the end of the hall where my room is.
I turn the knob and flick on a light. Johnny helps lower Jameson onto my sister’s abandoned bed, and once he’s settled, he looks around.
There’s not much to take in. Cathleen’s side is practically empty. I have a couple posters taped to the wall above my bed and my small stack of books, but that’s about it.
Johnny hovers over Jameson as I come to stand next to him. I thought Jameson looked bad before, but now that I can see him in the light, I’m starting to worry he needs more help than we can give him.
My eyes trail from his face down to his bare chest, noting all the places he’s bruised or bleeding.
“I’ll go get you something to ice that,” Johnny says, his gaze fixed on Jameson’s bruised side. “And a shirt.”
He starts to leave, but I grab his arm. “Maybe we should …” I turn my attention from him to Jameson. “Maybe we should take him to the hospital.”
“No,” Jameson mutters. “No doctors.”
Johnny doesn’t seem surprised by his response, but I shake my head. “You haven’t seen yourself. You look—”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” I respond quietly.
“I just need to get cleaned up. Rest.” He glances at Johnny, and something passes between them. “I’ll be fine in the morning. Trust me.”
I hesitate. “But—”
“I would know if it was that bad.” He sits up straighter, like that’ll prove his point. “And it isn’t.”
It occurs to me that the only way he’d know what it would feel like to need a doctor is because he’s experienced it. Because, at one point, he did need one.
The realization must be written all over my face because he softens. “Do you have a first-aid kit?” he asks. “That would help.”
He’s giving me something. A way to feel useful. Some semblance of control.
I nod.
“You get that,” Johnny says. “And I’ll go get the ice.”
I hesitate until Jameson says gently, “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, yeah.” I breathe out. “Okay.”
Johnny leads the way out of the room. Once we’re in the hall, he whispers, “You good?”
“Yeah,” I answer quietly.
He moves toward the kitchen, and I duck into the bathroom. I find the first-aid kit under the sink and wet two washcloths before returning to my room.
Johnny comes in right behind me. He sets down a frozen bag of peas and a T-shirt on the bed beside Jameson.
I put the first-aid kit on the desk, and Johnny motions toward it. “You need help?” he asks. “I can stay.”
I shake my head. “I can do it.”
He looks between the two of us. It seems like he’s about to say something, but then he just nods. “Seven a.m. tomorrow,” he reminds us.
We both mumble in agreement.
He’s still for a moment before eventually starting toward the door. “Lock it behind me.”
“I will.”
I follow him and wait as he closes the door then lock me and Jameson inside.