Page 117 of Always Love You More

We sit like that for a few minutes, and I watch as she fidgets, like she can’t stand to be inside her own body. I keep my hand in hers, running my thumb back and forth.

“A cigarette,” she says, the words breaking through the quiet.

“Hmm?”

“I think … I think a cigarette might help.”

I stand from the bed and turn on a lamp. The only light before had been from the moon and streetlights. Now the space is blanketed in a warm glow.

Sam squints her eyes, rubbing at them, and when she pulls her hands away, her eyes are red, her face blotchy. There are tracks of black mascara running down her cheeks, and I realize she must have not even made it to bed before she found out.

I turn away from her, focusing on the task she gave me. Her purse is on the desk next to her bed. I sift through it until I find the familiar red and white pack and a lighter. I place twocigarettes in my mouth and light them both before handing one to her.

I don’t usually smoke, but after tonight, I could fucking use one.

Sam takes the cigarette in her shaking hand and brings it up to her lips.

I push open the window, letting my eyes briefly close as a breeze touches my face.

How the fuck am I supposed to get through this?

Get her through this?

Opening my eyes, I grab the ashtray from her desk, settling back onto the bed and placing it between us.

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs before Billy fills the doorway, the duffle bag I asked for in his hand.

I start to stand when Sam shifts nervously, reaching out for me.

“I’m just gonna go over there and talk to Billy.”

She drops her hand, signaling that it’s all right that I go, and takes another drag.

“My mother?” I ask once I’m in front of him.

“She’s okay,” Billy answers. “Think she exhausted herself. She was asleep when I left. ”

I rub the back of my neck. “Good.”At least there’s that.

He motions to Sam. “How is she?”

“I got her to calm down a bit, but I don’t know …” I shake my head. “This is gonna destroy her.”

“And you?” he asks.

“You know me.” I shrug, bringing the cigarette to my lips.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I know how you bury things. But this shit’s too big to bury, Jameson.”

“It’s—”

He holds out a hand, stopping me. “Listen, I know how you work. You’ve gotta take care of everyone else before you take care of yourself. And I get it—I do.” I watch his eyes flit past me, over to Sam. “I get that she needs you. That you’ve gotta be here for her. But this happened to you, too, and I’m not gonna let you deal with it alone.”

“I won’t,” I tell him. “But I …” I glance at Sam. “I can’t now.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m just telling you that when you can’t bury it anymore, I’m here.”

I clap my hand on his shoulder and pull him into me, emotion clogging my throat. I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.