Page 130 of Always Love You More

He fights when he can’t shut off the noise. And I numb myself with alcohol until the world goes quiet.

“Sam, you’ve got table seven,” Maria, another server, says, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

I refocus and realize the sugar container I’m filling has started to overflow, little white crystals falling onto the counter.

Quickly, I set down the large bag in my hand and wipe the excess sugar away. Then I move over to my table—a young couple—and take their order.

It’s Sunday, and I’ve been here all day. Patsy’s is a twenty-four hour diner, but I usually don’t get scheduled for too many late nights. It’s just turned eight now, and I’m grateful the dinner rush has started to slow. I’m off at nine, so not too much longer. My feet are aching, and all I want is to go home and rest. But I know when I get there, I’ll only be met with more chores to do.

A couple more tables come in, and the rest of my shift passes by quickly. Still, I’m relieved when Patsy gives me the go-ahead to clock out.

I grab my things from the back room, pulling out my phone and finding a text from Jameson that he’s running fifteen minutes late.

He usually picks me up most nights I work, not wanting me to have to take the bus this late. If he can’t, Billy often swings by instead. He finally finished fixing up an old motorcycle he was working on and will take any excuse to bring it out for a ride.

I shoot Jameson back a text, telling him I’ll wait out front, then pull on my jacket and swing my bag over my shoulder.

Icy air hits my face the moment I step outside. There’s still remnants of snowfall on the ground from the storm we had earlier this week, but I’ve never minded the cold.

I love it, actually.

Digging through my bag, I pull out a cigarette and light it, watching the smoke mix with the fog of my breath as I exhale. I drop down on the bench that’s in front of the diner and grab my new book from my purse. I run my hand along the shiny cover, a smile tugging at my lips.

It was my sixteenth birthday a few weeks ago, and this was my gift from Jameson, a brand new copy ofThe Picture of Dorian Grey. My favorite.

I was shocked he had remembered from that first conversation we had the day we met.

When I opened it, he told me, “To replace the copy you lost, because you should always have your favorite.”

I never told him that I didn’t actually lose the book, although I think he might have guessed. One day, Carson “accidentally” knocked over his cup of coffee, and it spilled all over my prized copy. When I accused him of doing it on purpose, he acted like I was being ridiculous. Told me I was crazy, actually. My father was the only other one at the table and, no surprise, he sided with Carson.

That was over a year ago, and I haven’t had another copy until now.

I flip open the book and start reading, getting lost in a story I’ve read dozens of times.

I’ve just finished my cigarette when I hear my name being called over the sound of passing cars. Looking up, I see Jameson through the rolled down passenger window.

Shoving my book back into my bag, I jog over to the car, sliding into the seat.

“Hey,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “How was work?”

“Fine,” I answer, setting my things down by my feet.

He leans forward, slinging an arm behind my neck and pulling me into him. “I missed you,” he breathes against me before bringing his lips to mine.

I deepen the kiss, grabbing his hair and pushing into him.

He laughs, hot air tickling my skin. “Looks like you did, too.”

I begin to trail my hand down, sliding it over his chest, when the sound of a phone ringing breaks through the quiet.

“Shit,” he mutters against my mouth. “I’ve been waiting on a call.”

I move back, allowing him to pull his cell out from his pocket and listen as he curtly answers, “Yeah.” He’s quiet for a minute while he listens then replies, “Got it. I’ll be there.”

“Who was that?” I ask as he hangs up and tosses his phone into the center console.

“Just details for a construction job tomorrow.” He pulls away from the curb and starts down the road. “I need to be there real early, so you’ll have to get a ride to school with Billy.”