Page 160 of Always Love You More

“Where is he?” she asks.

“Working.”

She pulls the fallen robe up her shoulder.

“Did you need something?”

“I … ah …” She shakes her head. “No, no, I don’t need anything.”

I nod, turning to leave, but she calls out my name.

“Will you let Jameson know I need to talk to him when he gets home?” There’s a sort of desperation in her tone.

“Sure,” I answer, the word clipped.

I know Jameson gives her pills, that he hates himself every time he does. He keeps trying to cut her off, but she keeps reeling him back in.

I drop my stuff in his room before showering, the hot water washing away the day. By the time I step out of the bathroom, I can hear heavy footsteps moving around the kitchen.

After throwing on one of Jameson’s T-shirts, I find him hunched over the sink, scrubbing dishes. His jeans are low on his waist, his flannel hanging over one of the kitchen chairs, leaving him only in a white undershirt.

I walk up behind him, snaking my arms around his waist, and press my forehead against his back. “Hey,” I breathe.

He shuts off the water, turning to face me. “Hey.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sorry I couldn’t pick you up.”

He doesn’t offer an explanation, and I’m too tired to ask for one.

I look up at him as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Did you eat?” he asks.

I shake my head.

He drops his hands to my sides, sliding them down and toying with the hem of my shirt. “Go get in bed. I’ll bring you something.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re tired,” he says, gently stroking my hip. “You’ve been on your feet all day.” He tips his chin toward the hall. “Go.”

I step up on my toes and give him a quick kiss. “Oh,” I mutter. “Your mother was looking for you. She said she needed to talk.”

His body tenses against mine. “I’ll handle it.”

“Jamie …”

He turns toward the fridge. “Not now, okay? Please.”

I swallow. “Okay.”

“Why don’t you go cue up a movie? I’ll be right in.”

“Sure,” I say to his back before turning to go.

Low voices filter down the hall as Jameson speaks to his mother, their conversation dragging on. I can’t tell what they’re saying, but by the time he walks into the room, he looks worn out, defeated.