Chapter 34
Sam
The sound of an alarm seems to split my head in two. I groan and hear a muttered, “Sorry,” before the noise stops.
I drag my palms down my face, but it does nothing to stop the thumping in my head.
Turning onto my side, I’m met with Jameson’s bare chest, and his heavy arm that’s draped over me pulls me in closer. Instinctively, I curl into him, the heat of his body wrapping around me.
He moves his hand up to the back of my head, and I feel his fingers lightly run through my hair.
“How are you?” he whispers.
The question breaks through the fog, and memories of last night start to play through my mind.
The party.
Getting wasted.
Jameson coming to get me.
Throwing up.
Oh God.
“It’s all right,” he says, and I realize I must have said that last part out loud.
The fog continues to lift, and I wish it wouldn’t.
I don’t want to remember, but I’m stuck in a place where I can’t forget.
Jameson’s fingers are still threaded in my hair, his arm still wrapped around me like an anchor. I move in even closer to his chest, trying to block out the rest of the world.
Carefully, he asks, “What happened? Why’d you …?”
I reach down, feeling for the ring Johnny got me.
Jameson pulls away from me, trailing his eyes over my body until they lock on the place where all my attention has gone.
“It was supposed to be for my birthday,” I explain quietly.
“The ring?”
I nod.
“From Johnny?”
I nod again.
He takes my hand, sliding his finger over the ring. “How?”
I blink up at him, feeling tears prick at the back of my eyes. “I was putting away laundry. I tripped, and when I was cleaning up, I found it hidden under his bed. There was …” My voice breaks as I feel a tear fall down my face. “There was a card, too.”
Jameson stares back at me silently, giving me the space I need to continue.
“When I read it, I realized it was the last thing that he’ll ever get to say to me and that he’s really gone. I just …” I clear my throat. “I just really fucking miss him, and I lost it. I wanted to forget … so I … I’m sorry.”
Jameson brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses it. Then he leans forward and kisses where the tears are trailing down my cheeks.
“I’m trying,” I tell him as he smooths my hair back out of my face.
“I know you are,” he says softly. “This was just one day.”
The alarm sounds again, and I flinch. “God, my fucking head.”
He twists, smacking the alarm clock, and I watch the new tattoo spanning his rib cage stretch with the movement, a snake that goes down the side of his body, coiled around a knife.
“Wanted to make sure you were home in time,” he says, explaining the alarm.
This isn’t the first time we’ve done this. I’ve spent more nights than I probably should sneaking out and sleeping over in his bed.
If I’m not here, he often sneaks into my room.
We lock my bedroom door and make sure I’m home or he’s gone by morning.
It’s worked so far, but it’s like we’re playing a dangerous game, just waiting to get caught.
Although, at this point, it feels like it’s worth the risk.
I can’t sleep now unless I’m next to him.
He pushes up from the bed. “I’ll go get you some Advil.”
A minute later, he’s back, and I sit up, stretching my arms over my head. He drops two pills into my open palm and hands me a tall glass of water.
I swallow the pills and drain the whole glass before handing it back to him.
Jameson moves around the room, getting ready, and I slide on my shoes.
“You still up for the movies?” he asks, passing me a flannel to pull on over his T-shirt I’m still wearing.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’ve been waiting all week.”
I never used to go to the movies, but he’s gotten me hooked. What used to be his thing has become our thing.
He smiles. “Me, too.”
It’s rare that we both have a whole day off, and even after yesterday, there’s no way I’m wasting it.
“Did you ask Billy if he can go?”
Nodding, he answers, “Told him I’d pick him up.”
“Good,” I say. “He needs a day.”
I grab my purse, and we start for the door.
Walking out behind me, Jameson mutters, “We could all use a fucking day.”
Jameson drops me off down the street from my house, and I walk the rest of the way home, climbing in through my bedroom window.
He told me he’d swing around to pick up Billy before coming back for me, so I have a few minutes to take a quick shower and change.
I pull on a pair of low-rise sweatpants and a cropped zip-up hoodie, run some eyeliner, then mascara over my eyes, and call it a day.
My father is sitting at the kitchen table when I make it downstairs, Carson behind him, mixing up a protein shake.
“Morning,” I mutter, brushing past him.
“What happened to my laundry?” he asks, screwing the cap onto the bottle in his hand and shaking it vigorously. “It was all just thrown in the basket. Only half of it was folded.”
“I tripped on something on the floor. The basket fell.”
“And?”
“And,” I bite out, “I hurt my leg. Had to go lie down.”
His gaze moves to my legs. “Don’t look hurt.”
“Yeah, well, it’s better now.”
He grunts then turns back to what he’s doing.
I fill up a cup of water in the sink, down it, then search the cupboards until I find a pack of crackers.
“I’m going to the movies. I won’t be back until tonight.”
My father turns in his seat. “With who?”
“Jameson and Billy.”
“Don’t you have any friends?” Carson asks, dropping into a seat at the table. “You know, who are girls?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I turn my attention to my father. “Is that all right?”
“No work today?”
I shake my head. “I have the day off.”
“We could have used the check.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I stop myself from snapping that maybe if I wasn’t the only one in this house who worked, we wouldn’t be so hard up.
“Sorry. Couldn’t get scheduled.”
That’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“So,” I push, “can I go?”
He takes a sip of his coffee and nods.
“Thanks,” I say while texting Jameson to let him know I’m good to go. He responds back a minute later, telling me that he’s around the corner.
Carson and my father are deep in conversation, so I shrug on a jacket and head for the door.
Jameson’s pulling up when I make it to the end of the driveway, Billy in the seat beside him. He jumps out of the car, moving to the back and giving me his spot.
Once we’re all situated, Jameson turns to me. “How’s your head?”
“Still feels like shit,” I say. “But better than when I woke up.”
He drops his hand to my thigh as he starts to drive. “A dark theater will help.”
“You doing all right?” Billy asks. “Jameson didn’t tell me much, just that you were really fucking hungover.”
“It was a rough night,” I answer, not wanting to lie. Not to him.
Other than Jameson, Billy’s the only person I really trust. Well, and maybe my sister.
But she’s barely around anymore. She offered to move back home after Johnny, but I convinced her not to; told her I was fine, that I have Jameson and Billy.
When she calls, I only tell her half-truths, not wanting her to worry.
She got out, built a life for herself, and I’m not gonna be the one who takes that from her.
I spend the rest of the ride to the theater telling Billy what happened, the emotion stripped from my voice. If I don’t lock the feelings away, they’ll consume me.
They still might, anyway.
He keeps quiet as I talk, listening intently, as Jameson runs his hand up and down my leg in a silent show of support.
“And,” I finish, “that’s why I have this killer hangover.”
Billy leans forward, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m really sorry.” I nod, and he smiles at me sadly. “Today will be better, though.” He tips his chin toward Jameson. “We’ll make it better.”
“I just want to”—I blow out a breath—“have fun. You know? Have shit not feel so heavy for once.”
“There’s a party—”
“I don’t know if a party is a good idea tonight,” Jameson cuts Billy off, looking over at me then back at Billy in the rearview mirror.
“She said she wanted to have fun.”
Jameson’s hand on my leg stills when I say, “I wanna go.”
“Baby …”
“I’m good, really.” I put my hand over his. “I’ll go easy, promise.”
He watches me for a minute before he nods then asks Billy, “Whose party?”
“Dougie’s.”
Jameson grunts, pulling into a parking spot. I know he’s not really into parties, but he goes for me and Billy.
“We should head in,” he says. “First movie is about to start.”
I push out of the car, lowering my seat for Billy. Jameson comes around and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. He leads us inside, nodding at the guy he knows who lets us in for free before heading for the concession stand.
While Billy and Jameson get snacks, I run to the bathroom and come out to find them waiting for me. Jameson holds out my favorite kind of chocolate and a soda. I take them, smiling up at him, and he slings his arm over me, directing us to the theater.
We find our usual seats in the back just as the previews start to play. I look over at the two of them, the bright screen lighting their faces, and I can’t help but feel lucky.
Even with everything.
Even with last night.
Because no matter how heavy things get or how hard life seems to feel, at least I have them.
And for that, I’m lucky.