Page 125 of Always Love You More

But I don’t have time to deal with that right now. Not when my mother is the way she is, her cries carrying into the living room.

“I thought she was asleep,” he starts. “She was inconsolable after you left. Barely knew what was going on, just kept repeating his name over and over again.” He pauses, shifting. “I coaxed her to the bedroom and got her to lie down. She cried herself to sleep not long after.”

I watch as he begins to pace in front of me. “I thought she’d be out for a while after she wore herself out like that, so I came back out here to the living room.” He wrings his hands. “I wasn’t gonna sleep in case … just watch some TV.” He glances at me. “I’m really sorry, Jameson.”

“For what?” I straighten. “You do something to—”

He slows his step. “No, no, of course not. It’s just … I …” Guilt washes over his features, and he’s really starting to freak me out. “I told you I’d watch her, and then you come home to this.”

“It’s fine,” I tell him with a sigh. “I know how she can be.” I drag my hands down my face, hoping it’ll help the steady pounding in my head.

I’m so fucking tired.

“I know, but—”

“We don’t have time for this,” I snap, my exhaustion making the words come out harsher than I intended. “Sorry,” I mutter when I see the dejected look on his face. “It’s just … I can’t … I can’t leave her tied up in there. You’ve gotta tell me what happened so I can go deal with it.”

He swallows. “No, yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” He looks toward the kitchen then down to the floor.

As I watch him, it occurs to me how different he is than my father. Than me.

He folds under pressure.

He can’t handle his shit.

And as much as my old man’s methods were crazy, he really did prepare me for what he left me with.

“How’d she get where she is now?” I question, forcing my voice to be calm for his sake.

“I, uh … I ended up falling asleep,” he confesses. “The sound of her smashing things woke me up. She was … belligerent.”

“Drunk?” I ask.

He nods. “Not sure if she took something, too. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“So, why’s she tied up?”

Luke motions to his face. “I couldn’t get her to calm down. She came at me, and … I didn’t know what else to do. I was afraid she was gonna hurt herself.”

“How long has she been like that?”

“Not long,” he answers. “Maybe twenty minutes.”

“All right.” I nod. “I’ve got it from here.”

“What?” He pulls his head back. “No, I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”

“It’s not your problem—”

“And it’s yours?” he cuts in roughly.

“It is now.”

“No, this is all too much.” He takes a step toward me. “Now’s not the time for you to push people away. You don’t have to carry this all yourself.”

“And how’s anyone supposed to help me, huh? I mean, really?”

I don’t mean to sound as harsh as I do, but he’s starting to piss me off. I get that he means well, but nobody can help. Nothing can make this better. It’s delusional to think otherwise.He’sdelusional to think otherwise. And his words are just a reminder of how fucked up things really are.