Page 113 of Always Love You More

Billy follows after me. “I’m going with you.”

I don’t argue. I just grab my keys.

It’s like I’m in a haze, some sort of fucked-up alternate reality where all I can think of is one thing …

Getting to her.

Billy grabs my arm when we reach the car. “Give me the keys.”

“What?” I startle, his touch pulling me from my thoughts. “No,” I tell him. “I need to—”

“You shouldn’t drive right now,” he says, his face serious. Worried.

“I’m fine,” I answer, but instead of sounding reassuring, it comes out like a warning.

“Jameson …” he presses, my tone not even fazing him. Although, it never does.

Staring back at him, I can’t imagine what I look like. I feel like a caged animal backed into a fucking corner.

“Let someone help you.” He holds out his hand. “Let me help you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need—”

“You just found out your dad’s dead.” His voice is soft, careful, his eyes boring into mine. “Give me the keys.”

I close my fist over them. “I drive faster than you.”

“We’re wasting time,” he argues. “I’m not letting you behind the wheel. Now give them to me.”

Realizing he’s not gonna let this go, I drop the keys into his hand, my mind still stuck on one thing.

Sam.

With a relieved sigh, Billy closes his fist around them and rounds the car as I slide into the passenger seat.

We drive to Sam’s house in silence. Or maybe Billy tries talking to me. I don’t know.

The world around me is blurry, distant. Like I’m just floating through the moment, trying to get to her.

To make sure she’s okay.

I continue to call over and over again, but she never answers.

Minutes feel like hours as we fly down back roads, the streets dark and empty. My mind tries to grasp for something to hold on to, some way to make this better, something I can control. But there’s nothing. I look around, and all I can see is darkness. That’s all my life is—fucking darkness.

“You all right?” Billy asks, his voice slipping through the cracks.

I pull the phone away from my ear. “She still won’t pick up. Why the fuck isn’t she …? She always picks up.”

“We’re almost there,” he says, but I don’t miss the uncertainty in his voice.

The fear.

Finally, we pull into her driveway, and I’m out of the car before Billy even cuts the engine. I jog up to the front door and start to frantically knock on it.

Seconds drag by, and it only makes me pound harder.

Finally, it swings open, and Carson is standing in front of me. “Jesus, what’re you—”