Page 32 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

After Ember leaves, James stands uncertainly around in the middle of the room, then points to the books on my desk. “When do you need to be done with those?” he asks.

I sigh. “I should have read most of them already. I’m way behind thanks to the gala.”

“OK,” he murmurs, holding up John Stuart Mill’s Utilitarianism . “This one is only a hundred or so pages and I’ve already read bits of it. We can go through it together if you like.”

I blink. “You want to do homework with me?”

“Sure,” he says, pointing to the desk. “Got another chair?”

I’m so confused that for a moment I’m lost for words.

Then I nod and slide off the bed. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

I dash into Ember’s room. She’s sitting on the floor by her bed, back against the frame, laptop in her lap. At the sight of me, a significant grin spreads over her lips, and she pulls her headphones off her ears.

“Sooo?” she asks. Apparently, our conversation this morning is already forgotten—or else she’s just too nosy to ignore me right now.

“Can I borrow your chair?” I ask.

Ember’s grin widens. “Of course you can borrow my chair.”

I ignore her suggestive tone and push the office chair into my room. Meanwhile, James has sat down at my desk, Utilitarianism open in front of him.

“Are you sure you want to go through my reading with me?” I ask as I sit down beside him.

He looks up and a slight smile lightens his face. “I want to do anything with you that you’ll let me, Ruby.” The moment the words leave his mouth, he grimaces. “That came out kind of wrong…”

James’s cheeks flush pink and mine blush hot too. I look away and turn to the first page, then clear my throat. “D’you need some paper?”

Beside me, James nods twice. “Yes, please.”

For the next two hours, we do indeed study Utilitarianism together.

I find it hard to focus at first—partly because James is sitting next to me, and partly because my thoughts are all over the place—but after a while, I get to grips with the theory and start to shape my own opinion on the topic.

James and I discuss each other’s ideas and again I realize how bloody intelligent he is.

He might not love the idea of Oxford, but when he gets there, he’ll be ahead of the field.

When we’re finished and I’ve highlighted a last keyword in my little notebook, I lean back with a sigh.

“What now?” asks James.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Well. Whenever I’ve crammed my head full like that, I have to clear it somehow before I can do anything else.”

“What do you like to do?” I ask curiously. How weird that I know James’s darkest secrets but almost nothing about his daily life.

“Go to the gym mostly.” He shrugs. “Or watch travel videos.”

When I don’t reply, he looks at me, eyebrows raised. “I’m sure you have your own way of clearing your head.”

I hesitate a moment. “Yeah, ’course. But it’s a bit weird. You’re not allowed to think I’m silly.”

James’s lips twitch. “I can’t wait to hear it now.”

“You have to promise me, James.”

James nods and raises his hand in a three-finger salute. “Scout’s honor.”

I reach for my laptop and go into my favorites. I find my relaxation folder and click on the first video I’ve got saved in there.

A blond girl appears on the screen and whispers hello.

The video starts with her opening a parcel and slowly stroking the paper in which various items are wrapped.

I dare to dart a sideways glance at James because I know this one by heart anyway.

He looks at the screen and then at me. “What the hell is this? Why’s she so quiet?

” His eyes flick back again. The girl in the video is scratching her long nails over a sponge. “Why’s she doing that?”

“This is an ASMR video.”

James’s whole face is a question mark.

“It’s a thing,” I explain. “I really don’t know how to describe it. They’re videos where people speak quietly and make crinkling or rustling noises, for example.”

“But why?” It’s kind of sweet how confused he is. I’ve never seen him like this before.

“It’s soothing,” I explain. “My brain totally responds to it.”

“So, you watch this to relax?” he asks dubiously.

I nod. “It gives me kind of goose bumps on my head. Sometimes I watch them to fall asleep too.”

James grins. “I think you must have to really get into it for it to work. Right now, I’m finding it too weird to get goose bumps. It’s…It really is kind of odd.”

“There are hundreds of videos,” I say, clicking on the next favorite on my list. Now there’s a doctor, quietly telling a patient to raise their arm and shut their eyes.

It doesn’t take long for my scalp to start tingling.

James shakes his head. “That’s fascinating. In a totally messed-up way.”

“Watch one tonight before you go to bed. And then tell me if it worked,” I say with a knowing grin.

“It would be cool if it did. I’ve been sleeping so badly for weeks.”

The grin falls from my face. I don’t want to kill the mood, but when he says a thing like that, I can’t just ignore it. I have to ask the question, however sad it is.

“Is that because of your mum?” I ask carefully.

James takes a breath. For a moment, he doesn’t move a muscle, then he exhales audibly and nods. “Yes. I…sometimes dream about her.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The doctor on the video is still going through his consultation, and I press the space bar to pause it.

James is quiet for a while, like he’s trying to find the right words. Again, I cautiously take his hand, like earlier, before Ember interrupted us. James turns his palm up so that we can link our fingers.

“I never thought it would feel like this,” he begins.

“What do you mean?” I whisper.

He gulps hard. “Without my mum.”

I press his hand to encourage him to go on. And he does.

James starts to tell me about the last two months.

Faltering at first, then a bit more smoothly as the words flood out.

He tells me about the guilty feelings toward his mother, because he feels like he’s not grieving properly.

About being afraid for Lydia, the fear that’s with him when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep.

About the Beaufort meetings where it feels like his soul isn’t part of his body and he’s watching everything like an outsider.

He tells me that his father won’t let him or Lydia visit their aunt Ophelia.

That Lydia really wants to find a private midwife, but she’s scared of revealing her secret.

And that he feels bad about letting his friends down recently.

We sit in my room all day, talking. Not just about James’s family. About all kinds of things. School, Ember’s blog, my chat with Alice Campbell last night, which I still haven’t processed properly.

Just before five, Dad calls my phone. He prefers that to yelling across the house like Mum does, or sending Ember up to my room.

“Dinner’s ready,” I say.

Hand in hand, we walk to the door. I’m about to open it when James pulls me back again. He hugs me and holds me tight for a moment.

“Thanks,” he whispers, right into my ear.

I don’t have to ask for what.