Chapter 16
Sam
I roll to my side. “I can’t sleep.”
“Me neither,” he says.
“Can I …?” I start, my voice just above a whisper. “Can I come lay with you?”
He looks over at me, his face illuminated by the light of the moon, and watches me for a minute before he softly murmurs, “Yeah.”
Slipping out of bed, I take my blanket with me and climb in next to him, moving over until we’re side-by-side, keeping still so I won’t hurt him.
“You won’t break me,” he mutters.
You’re already broken, I want to say.
“Come here,” he breathes. He pulls his arm back and shifts.
Gently, I lower my head down to his chest and fit into the curve of his body. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him.
“Am I hurting you?” I ask.
“No, you’re fine.”
“Are you sure?”
He shushes me, bringing his hand down to my hair. He lightly strokes it and says, “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“But I do,” I tell him. “Worry about you.”
His hand stills.
“Whenever you get pulled away at the garage, I wonder where you are. If you come in late, I wonder if you’re okay. When I see another bruise or cut on your face, I wonder how you got it.” I swallow. “And today, when you went down … I was worried you weren’t gonna get up.”
“This is why I’m no good for you,” he says. “I don’t want you to always be worried.”
“I can’t help it.”
He begins to pull away from me, but I grab his arm and place it back around my waist. “Don’t,” I whisper.
“You don’t want this,” he states. “I’m not an easy person—”
“Neither am I,” I cut in before he can finish.
“No, you’re not like me.” He shakes his head. “This world isn’t for you. I mean, look at me.”
I tilt my head back and glance up at him. “You’re not gonna scare me away.” I lay my head against his chest again. “And how do you know I’m not like you? You don’t know what my life has been like.”
He goes still beneath me. “What does that mean?”
“My life has been hard, too,” I answer. “There’s lots of things about me that aren’t easy, that’re fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up,” he says like it’s a fact.
“No, but I am.” I sigh. “I’ve never really had friends … or anything more.” I feel his thumb brush lightly against my waist. “But I like you. You make me feel like I’m not fucked up. Like I fit.” I peer over at him. “I don’t know if that even makes sense.”
“It does.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been trying to fight it, telling myself I’m no good for you … but you make me feel that way, too.” He pauses. “When I’m around you, I feel like myself.”
“Jameson?” I murmur.
“Yeah.”
“You can stop fighting it now.”
“What do you—”
I shift in his hold, rolling onto my side so our faces are just inches apart, giving him a clear invitation.
He lets out a soft breath, his eyes fixed on mine before they drop down to my lips. Slowly, like he’s giving me time to back away, he leans in and presses his lips against mine.
The sound of my alarm going off makes me flinch. I turn to look over at the clock, not believing it’s already six thirty.
Me and Jameson talked all night, and I shared things with him that I’ve never told anyone before.
Details about my family that I keep locked away, the struggles I try to hide and the things I secretly wish for.
Jameson listened to everything, never judging, and it felt good, foreign, to be seen in the way that he sees me.
He shared just as much—the moments of his life that he keeps hidden behind the mask he wears so well. I knew things were hard for him, but I hadn’t realized quite how bad they really are.
As he spoke, I could tell these were things he’s rarely ever talked about, or maybe things he’s never talked about.
And even though I was tearing down my walls for him, there was a part of me that couldn’t believe he was doing the same for me.
That not only did I trust him with my secrets, but he trusted me with his.
The kiss he gave me was short, more gentle than I would have imagined, but things felt different after. Like we both stopped fighting the obvious and accepted what we clearly are to each other.
The alarm continues to blare, and I slide out from under Jameson’s arm, hitting the top of it. The room goes quiet as I switch on the bedside lamp then turn back to him, a gasp falling from my lips.
“That bad, huh?”
“Do you want something for the pain?” I stammer, my attention slowing on his bruised cheek and eye that’s nearly swollen shut. “I should have asked you last night. I wasn’t thinking.”
He shrugs as if it’s nothing. “I’m fine.”
“No,” I tell him, “you’re not, so stop saying that.” Before he can give me an excuse, I’m already starting for the door, stopping to grab a change of clothes on the way. “Be right back,” I call over my shoulder.
Tiptoeing out of my bedroom, I get dressed in the bathroom then move down the dark hallway, relieved when I see my father still passed out on the couch.
After grabbing the few things I’m looking for, I quickly head back for my room. When I open the door, I find Jameson standing, with the bed made and his shoes on.
“How did you …?” I shake my head. “I would have helped you.”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he watches me walk to the desk and drop all the things I’ve collected.
“You running away or something?”
I roll my eyes. “Someone has to take care of you.” I pull out the desk chair. “Sit.”
He drags his gaze from the desk to me, and I arch a brow. Finally, he lowers himself into the chair.
I hand him a banana and another frozen bag of peas.
He tilts his head.
“You need something in your stomach for the ibuprofen, and those bruises could use all the help they can get.”
He’s swallowing the pills when a knock quietly sounds from the door. I rush over to open it.
Johnny looks past me, his eyes finding Jameson. “We’ve gotta go.”
“Is he—”
“Still asleep,” Johnny answers.
I let out a breath. “Okay, good.”
He lowers his voice so only I can hear him. “Everything go all right last night?”
I nod, a smile pulling at my lips.
Johnny studies me like he’s searching for something. Then he moves his gaze past me, and I feel the heat of Jameson’s body come up behind mine.
“We good to go?” he asks.
Johnny gives me a knowing look, and I turn away from him to grab my bag.
“Yeah,” he answers. “Be quiet leaving.”
Jameson nods before Johnny moves out into the hall. I throw a few things into my bag while Jameson waits for me by the door. He steps away as I approach, letting me go out first, and lightly places his hand on my lower back.
The house is lifeless as we make our way toward the front door, being extra careful when we slip through the living room.
The ride over to the garage is short and quiet. All of us seem to be processing what happened last night and anticipating what we’ll be met with when we get to the garage.
I’m not sure how Jameson’s father is going to react to the fact that I got between them.
To that fact that me and Johnny witnessed a scene between him and Jameson that is normally kept behind closed doors.
Whatever he does, however he reacts, I’ll take it, because I don’t regret what I did.
Levi can throw whatever he wants at me, and it’ll still be worth stepping in and protecting Jameson.
We pull in through the gates, and I immediately scan the parking lot, looking for one car in particular. I tense when I see it—the shiny black car Jameson’s father drives, parked up front in his usual spot.
I know that Johnny and Jameson see it, too, but if Jameson is nervous to see his father, he doesn’t show it.
The bell over the door chimes as we walk in, causing Billy and Luke to turn from where they were talking at the front desk.
Luke’s face instantly drops into a scowl, and as we get closer, Billy mutters, “Jesus, Jameson.”
Luke turns his attention from Jameson to me and my brother. “Why are you coming in with them?”
Jameson shakes his head, offering no explanation.
“Did something happen at the fight?” Luke pushes.
“I’ve gotta go check in,” Jameson says, looking anywhere but at them.
“This has to stop,” Luke mutters. “This fighting. I don’t understand it.”
“It’s all good,” Jameson tells him. “I won.”
“I don’t care if you won,” he says, his voice ringing out through the empty space. “I care that you’re hurt.”
“He back there?” Jameson asks, ignoring the worry pressing in around him.
Luke’s shoulders drop in defeat. “Yeah, he’s back there.”
Jameson starts toward the hallway, and Johnny takes a step behind him. “I’ll go with you.”
“I’m all set.”
“I’ve gotta talk to him about something, anyway.”
Jameson turns. “Later,” he says, the word leaving no room for argument.
The minute he disappears into the hallway, Luke shifts to me and Johnny. “What was that about? What happened?”
“We were at the fight,” Johnny answers. “We took him home.”
“Why?”
“Levi …” Johnny starts. “He needed some time to cool down.”
“From what?”
Johnny rubs at the back of his neck. “You know I can’t—”
Luke pushes away from the front desk. “For fuck’s sake,” he snaps, storming out into the garage.
“I’ve gotta …” Johnny points toward the back room. “You good?”
“Yeah, fine,” I tell him, trying to hide the lie. Really, I’m just overwhelmed. Nervous about what’s coming. About all the different personalities. Who’s upset with who. Who has power over who. The things I can’t say. And the things I wish I could.
I round the desk and take my place behind it.
Billy lowers his elbows on the edge of it, his voice quiet. “Tell me what happened.”
I shake my head.
“Come on; it’s me,” he presses.
“Ask Jameson.”
He sighs. “You know how he is.” He drums his hands nervously. “Just tell me he’s okay.”
I open my mouth, willing the words to come out, but when I look up at Billy, at the fear in his eyes, all I give him is silence.
Because as much as I want to, I can’t make myself lie to him.