Page 44 of Embers of You (Amity #1)

Jameson

I untie Sutton and make sure to give her wrists extra attention to ease the redness. I help her clean up like I always do, making sure she’s totally taken care of before we dress enough to go back to the house.

When we lay in bed like we’ve done every night, I can’t go to sleep right away. She’s snuggled into my side, and I have my arm wrapped around her. I’m glad she’s able to drift off easily, but I lay awake, just as conflicted as before, if not more because of how much she means to me.

She’s everything to me and I don’t think I’m able to be the man for her. I want to be more than anything, but my life has changed. I have more on my plate than before, and it’s not fair to her. I’m going to have to create distance between us, even if it’s the last thing I want to do.

I hold her tightly against me because if this is the last night I have her in my arms, I’m going to savor every second of it. Which is also probably why I’m unable to fall asleep, because I know in the morning I’m going to have to tell her goodbye.

The morning comes too soon and I watch the sunrise through the window while Sutton sleeps peacefully on my chest. When she finally stirs awake, her green eyes look up at me, and my resolve weakens. I graze my lips lightly against her eyelids, her nose, and then down to her lips.

“Morning,” she mumbles softly.

“Morning.”

Her eyes pop open, and I know she can read me just as easily as I can read her. “What’s wrong?”

I swipe her hair off her forehead and don’t answer. So many things run through my head, the main one right now being that I don’t want to let her go.

“I don’t have to go to work today if you need me to be here,” she offers easily and I shake my head.

“No, we all need to get back to normal,” I insist.

“I don’t think there’s getting back to normal.” She runs her hand along my jaw that has more hair on it than I’ve had in years. I usually avoid shaving on my days off, but haven’t been able to have a full beard since I became a firefighter. “But we can start getting used to the new normal.”

“Yeah,” I agree. There’s a pang in my chest even before the next words leave my lips. “Which is why you and Bennet should probably go back home.”

Her hand freezes. “You want us to leave? I mean of course, I understand.” She moves quickly, getting out of bed, and I want to drag her back.

“Sutton, no. I mean I just don’t want you to think you have to stay here. You have your own house and I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“No. No, I get it. Obviously you and your mom are grieving. I didn’t mean to invade your space.

” She’s gathering her stuff, and I feel like an idiot for thinking letting her go was the smart thing to do when pushing her away feels so wrong.

I watch her dress and toss her things into her bag like she’s in a rush to leave.

“I didn’t mean right now.”

“It’s fine, I’m going to go to work, and I should drop Bennet off at home first.”

I don’t like her home not being here with me.

I’m not making sense, and I know it, but I can’t seem to find the words to tell her to stop.

I can’t say the three words that would change what’s happening.

So instead, I don’t say anything. It may be a mistake, but I just let her go.

I still walk her to her car, but I can tell she’s trying to leave as quickly as possible.

I can’t help myself as I pull her into me for a soft kiss. She melts into me like she always does.

I still don’t say anything because I can’t bring myself to tell her goodbye. Neither does she and every second of silence between us has my heart sinking lower and lower in my chest.

The second she’s gone I know I’ve royally messed up, but I also don’t know if I’m going to be able to fix it. How I would fix it, or if I even should.

I walk back into the house, and Ma is there which is surprising because I’ve barely seen her out of bed all week.

“Where did Sutton go?”

“She had to go to work.”

“And she took Bennet with?”

I hesitate. “Yeah, she’s going to go home for a little while.”

I notice the hurt that crosses her face. “Oh. Did she not want to stay here with us anymore?”

“No, that’s not it. I told her we should try getting back to normal.”

She wraps her sweater around herself tighter and I can see how tired her eyes are and how much weight she’s lost. The pain of everything has hit her the hardest. Of course it has.

My dad and I had our problems, but he was the love of her life.

She’s been so busy hiding while I’ve been busy avoiding…

everything. I feel guilty, as though I’ve neglected her by being so caught up in my own mind.

“What exactly is normal, Jameson?”

I shrug. “Just as normal as we can be considering.”

“Normal would be moving on with your life, not ruining it.”

“I’m not ruining it, Ma I want to be here for you.”

“You are. You always have been,” she pauses before continuing, “you also need to let Sutton be there for you.”

I shake my head. “I’m not talking about this with you right now. Do you need help with anything before I go feed the animals?”

I can see she wants to argue her point. She probably wants to yell at me, but doesn’t have the energy and that thought feels like a slap in the face.

“No, but while you’re doing whatever you feel like you need to do, at least think about what you’ve done. Because pushing that girl away would be the greatest mistake of your life.”

“Ma—”

“Jameson,” she snaps, loudly. “Think about what your life would look like if you really let that girl go. And don’t even try to lie to me about how much she means to you. I’ve seen it written all over your face. You love her, and you need to realize what losing that kind of love will do to you.”

I clench my jaw and shake my head, but before I can say anything she speaks up again.

“You may think your dad didn’t care, but he did. More than you know, and trust me when I say that you throwing away love because of him would have him really angry with you.”

I have nothing to say now, and I’m not going to argue about it, because I know he didn’t care. I know we didn’t get any closure and I know he wouldn’t have cared if I let Sutton go. He never seemed to have an opinion on anything other than me leaving.

And now he’s the one that left us. How horribly ironic.