Page 23 of Call You Mine
Coming up to the light, it turns from red to green just before I’m about to slow down.
And I speed right through it.
For the fourth time.
I run a hand through my hair, still damp from the shower I took after I woke up. I slept all day today after getting home from my shift around eight o’clock this morning, my brain finally turning off long enough for me to get some decent rest, my body exhausted after such a busy shift at the station.
I tried to convince myself to wait to tell Ava how I feel about her.
That there was a better way to reach out to her and ask to chat—especially since I don’t know the specifics of her taking care of her sister—instead of showing up at her apartment out of the blue.
But I can’t wait any longer.
I need to know how she’s doing; that she’s okay.
And I need her to know how I feel about her.
And Jack put this stupid idea of telling her into my head, and I can’t get it out.
Her apartment complex comes into view, and I pull into the parking lot. Cutting my engine, the silence becomes deafening, allowing me to come to terms with what the fuck I’m about to do.
I let my head fall back against the headrest, closing my eyes as I inhale.
The second she opens that door, I’m going to tell her that this one-night stand turned friends-with-benefits situation isn’t enough for me.
I want more, and I’ll get down on my knees and beg her for a chance if that’s what she wants.
I pocket my keys and head to the front door of her apartment complex. I’m about to open the first set of doors when my phone starts vibrating in my pocket.
And when I see who’s calling, my stomach flips.
I consider letting the call go to voicemail, not wanting to worry aboutthisright now. I’m already all torn up and twisted about Ava, and the last thing I need is something complicating this.
I’m about to pocket my phone when the uninvited yet familiar grip of guilt wraps around me, whispering into my ear that he needs me.
My jaw tightens, along with the grip on my phone.
I don’t have someone to call to fix everything I fucked up or pick up the pieces of whatever I destroyed—but I’m exactly that person for my family, specifically my youngest brother.
I might be a mess right now, but he’s a goddamn trainwreck.
I draw in a breath, the winter air burning my throat, but I welcome the pain. It steadies me enough to realize that I know I’m going to answer the call no matter how much Idon’t want to.
I’m going to help Auggie with whatever he needs.
I’m going to put him first.
It’s my job.
“Hey, Auggie.”
“Have you called Mom’s doctor?” His voice is rushed, not even bothering with a greeting.
“No, why?” I ask—maybe I should be confused as to why he is asking me rather than my mom, but it makes sense. I’m the glue that holds my family together. I’m the one who keeps tabs on my brothers, my mom, and the things that pertain to them—including filling our mom’s prescription for her arthritis pain management.
“She needs more pills.”
“So, call the doctor,” I answer, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
