Page 132 of Always Love You More

“You’ll still have Billy.”

I shift in my seat. “Not the same.”

“You know I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think I had to.”

“I know,” I reassure him. “I just wish everything was easier for you … that I could somehow make it easier.”

“You do.” He reaches over, grasping my hand. “You have no idea how much you do, baby.”

I thread my fingers through his. “So, what are you gonna do now?” I ask. “I mean, after you drop out?”

“I don’t know yet,” he confesses. “I’ll try to stay with this construction thing, but there’s not always steady work, and the money is shit compared to …”

His other option hangs in the air.

He drops his eyes like he’s guilty of something. “Marcus has been calling.”

I already know he has; this is just the first time Jameson has actually acknowledged it.

A wave of anxiety rushes through me as I ask, “And?”

“And a lot of options are open.” He pulls his eyes back up to meet mine, gauging my reaction.

“Am I the reason you haven’t said yes to them?”

“Yeah,” he answers before shaking his head. “No. I mean … I don’t know.”

“I can’t …” I swallow, the memories of that night flashing through my mind. “I can’t lose you, too.”

He squeezes my hand. “You won’t.”

“That’s what he said.” I pull my hand from his, dropping my eyes to the floor. “He promised.” My voice cracks. “So, don’t try to tell me ‘you won’t’ because you don’t know.”

How can he even think about going back after …

“I’m not gonna do anything like that,” he tries to reason. “I’m not messing with cars.”

“That whole life is dangerous!” I shout, turning back to him.

“I know,” he says, his gentle tone turning sharp, defensive. “You think I don’t know that? That’s why I told you to stay away from me, but you didn’t, did you?”

I pull my head back as his words hit me. “That was before.”

“This is who I am,” he says, not sounding like himself. Not how he is with me. “I told you from the very beginning.”

“It’s not who you have to be, not anymore.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “I’m just as trapped as I was when my old man was alive. This is all I know. All I’m good for.” He says it with such certainty. Like he’s heard it before. Like he’s beentoldit before.

And I realize why he doesn’t sound like himself—because his words aren’t his own. They’re his father’s.

“That’s not true. You could be—”

“What?” He lets out a hollow laugh. “More? Better?”

“Yes!” I shoot back. “Why not?”

“This is the hand I’ve been dealt. This is my life. Take it or leave it.”