Page 9

8

JIMMY

I woke slowly, easing into awareness in small increments before finally opening my eyes. I blinked twice, then relaxed, remembering I’d gone home—to Sammy’s and my apartment in Brinkley—last night. After living here for the last two years, I wasn’t sure if this apartment truly felt like home, but it was comfortable. And safe. Safer than the home where I’d grown up in Astaire.

Sammy and I had managed to scrape together enough rent to live in our house in Astaire for three more years after Mom—Charlotte we now called her—left us. I suspected Mrs. McGee, our landlady, had looked the other way more than once when Sammy had come up short. After graduation, we’d moved from that house into this apartment above the auto shop in Brinkley, the neighboring town about ten miles away. Since living here meant Sammy only needed to walk downstairs to get to work, I could take the car we shared to my classes at the community college. At least until Sammy made that big sale a couple of months ago and bought me my own car.

I’d had a lot of mixed feelings about leaving that old house and living someplace new. Not that Brinkley was unfamiliar to me, but the apartment was new, and that house had been all I’d ever known. As it turned out, I felt nothing but relief in leaving it behind. My life there had been full of chaos and turmoil. A mother who was drunk or high more often than not. Who went missing for days at a time without telling us where she’d gone or leaving us any means to feed ourselves. Though her presence at home often wasn’t better, especially when she brought her various boyfriends. Some of those guys had given me the creeps.

Then she’d up and left us, cleaning out nearly everything in the house, including most of the furniture, kitchenware, and even the food. Sammy and I had been left with our bedroom furniture and an old, lumpy recliner. We’d been eighteen and fifteen at the time, hurtled into adulthood earlier than most, trying to figure out how to survive while coming to terms with the fact that our mother hadn’t loved us enough to choose us over drugs, alcohol, and the wild promises of yet another one of her boyfriends.

Sammy had fallen in love that summer, taking comfort in his boyfriend Will until they split when Will left for college. I wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down between them, but between losing the love of his life and trying to keep us afloat, Sammy had been nearly unbearable. It had been difficult to see him struggle that way. I’d made myself as invisible as possible, trying not to be a burden while also doing my best not to poke the bear. Thankfully, as time marched on, the shaky ground beneath us had solidified into something more secure. I wasn’t sure the wounds of our childhood could ever be healed, but we’d found a way to live with them, to coexist with the trauma and heartbreak, finding strength in each other and pride in moving forward despite all that had happened.

I sighed, burrowing under the covers until just the upper half of my face showed. I wasn’t sure what had triggered this little trip down memory lane, but thoughts of that summer inevitably led to thoughts of the boy who gave me my first kiss.

The boy I now knew was TJ.

My roommate.

The guy who’d triggered my need to flee campus and head back to Brinkley for the long weekend.

Ever since the afternoon TJ had taken me on the tour of the theater building a week ago, things between us had been awkward. Conversation was polite but strained and very minimal. No more conversation starters. No more invitations to eat. Just polite words of greeting or an “excuse me” when moving around our tight quarters. He still sat next to me in our Ad Psych class, at least, but he’d been up and out of his seat before I’d even packed away my laptop both times we’d had class this week.

I didn’t know what to make of his behavior. And I didn’t think my comment about him being intense warranted this kind of extreme avoidance, but I wasn’t sure what else could explain the change in his demeanor. It made me edgy and anxious, and I’d taken to studying in the library to avoid dealing with it. Finally, unable to handle the tension anymore, I’d left a message on a sticky note, packed a bag, and hit the road toward Brinkley before TJ returned from his afternoon classes.

Ugh. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. That was the whole point of coming home. To take a break from the TJ Tension Train.

I threw back the covers, sitting up and swinging my feet around to plant them on the floor. I scrubbed my hands over my face, then stood and headed into the hall to make my way to the bathroom.

“He lives!” Sammy called out from the living room or kitchen. I wasn’t sure, having not bothered to look in his direction.

I shot him the bird over my shoulder, then stepped into the bathroom and shut the door. I relieved myself and washed my hands, debating whether to shower now or later. My stomach growled, making the choice for me, and I headed toward the kitchen, hoping Sammy had some decent cereal in the cupboard.

“Still not a morning person, I see.” Sammy flipped off the TV and walked toward the kitchen.

“Not sure why you’d think that would have changed in the last two weeks,” I grumbled, pulling out a bowl and a spoon, then stepping over to the fridge to grab the milk. “What are you even doing up, anyway? You’re not exactly a morning person either.”

“You’re right, but since it’s after eleven. I’m not sure this qualifies as morning.”

I glanced at the clock on the microwave, surprised to see he wasn’t exaggerating, though it wasn’t like I had any place to be, so the time didn’t really matter. “I guess I needed to catch up on sleep.”

His expression shifted to one of concern. “Are you doing alright down there at school? Is everything okay?”

I brushed off his concern, picking up my bowl of cereal and leaning against the counter behind me. “It’s fine. Just normal college stress.”

“You’re taking your meds?”

I sighed, though I knew he meant well. “Have you ever known me not to take them?”

He relaxed a bit, looking apologetic. “You’re right. You’ve always been good about that shit. It’s just…” He pulled out the stool and sat at the counter opposite me. “I don’t know. I knew I was going to worry. I don’t know if I’ll ever break the habit. But I didn’t expect to miss you so much.”

Damn . Sammy never said shit like that. We never said shit like that. I knew Sammy loved me. Had always known it, just as I loved him. But growing up, there’d been no room for sentiment in our house. We’d never learned how to express it. I swallowed my cereal past the lump in my throat and tried for a little levity. “Man, first you tell me you’re proud of me, and now you tell me you missed me. What’s next? Declarations of love? Bro hugs?”

“Fuck off,” he said, with a laugh, lightening the mood.

I flashed him a grin, then let it fade to something softer. “I missed you too. I wouldn’t be where I am—in college and shit—without you. I know you sacrificed a lot for me, and I?—”

“I just did what had to be done.”

“Don’t make it sound like you didn’t have a choice. You could have fucked off and followed Will to Purdue.” His jaw tightened at the mention of his ex, but I barreled on before he could stop me. “You could have kicked me out after graduation. I could have come to work at the auto shop or found some other job right out of high school. My job at the library was shit for pay, but you insisted I go to community college rather than find a job that paid better. You could have made a million other choices for yourself, but you put me first. I’ve never understood why you did that, but I?—”

“Because you deserved it. Hell, you deserved more than I could ever give you.”

“So did you. You deserved to create the life you wanted rather than be burdened by raising me.”

“Pfft. I didn’t raise you. You were fifteen when Charlotte left.”

“We both know you played more of a role in raising me than she ever did long before she left.”

“Listen, we can debate this all day. The fact is, you weren’t a burden, and if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.” I wanted to ask him if that included giving up Will, but I didn’t have the guts to press him on it more than I already had. “Besides, I am living the life I want. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. And I’m fucking proud of that. Selling that piece—shit, Jimmy—I’ve never seen so many zeros on a check. For the first time in my life, it feels like we have breathing room. And to know that it’s because of something I created…” He took a shaky breath, trying to collect himself. “It bought you a car. It’s paying for your college. For the first time ever, we aren’t carrying a credit card balance.”

“What about you? You’re talking about all the things that money is doing for me. What’s it doing for you?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo.” He flashed me a smile, then shrugged. “I’m not used to thinking about myself or the future. It’s always been about doing whatever needs to be done next. Paying whichever bills we could and figuring out how to keep the collection agencies off our backs. I don’t know,” he repeated, running a hand through his blond curls. “Maybe I’ll get a motorcycle.”

“Yeah?” My eyebrows shot up.

“I’ve kind of always wanted one.”

I’d never once heard him mention a motorcycle, but I could definitely see him riding one.

“Can I go with you when you get the tattoo?”

“Seriously? You wanna go with me? You thinking about getting one for yourself?”

I shook my head. “Not a chance in hell.”

He laughed, full and hearty, and…I almost didn’t recognize the sound. His laughter was usually laced with sardonic undertones. I didn’t know if I’d ever heard him sound so carefree. Something inside me, some piece of my anxiety-ridden heart, unclenched, and for the first time ever, I thought Sammy was going to be okay.

For all the time Sammy spent worrying about me, making sure we had food and a place to live, searching for a doctor who could treat my anxiety, paying for community college… For all that time, I’d worried he was running himself ragged. That he wasn’t putting on his own oxygen mask first. That with as hard as he was focused on my well-being, he wasn’t healing from his own heartbreak. And now, as I listened to his laugh, I thought he might just figure out how to be okay.