Page 16 of Always Love You More

He tips his chin toward everything laid out in front of me.

I tilt my head. “M&Ms or cigarette?”

He holds out a hand. “M&Ms.”

I pour some into his open palm. “Did you find out if my brother is still here?”

He absentmindedly sorts the colors. “Yeah, he left already.”

“Where’d he go?”

His eyes flick up to meet mine.

“It’s not like I’m gonna rat on my own brother.”

He hesitates before saying, “A pickup …”

I nod.

“And …” he starts.

“And?” I ask, trying to hide my fear.

“Never mind.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “No, tell me.”

He sighs. “Your brother any good with cars?”

Waving my hand around, I make a face that says,Duh, we’re sitting in a mechanic shop.

He gives me a face back that says,You know that’s not what I mean.

I drop my hand, tilting my head. “Yeah, really good.”

“Then they’re probably going scouting.”

Realization dawns on me, and I notice Jameson is watching to see how I’m going to react.

“Oh,” I mutter, pulling a cigarette out of the pack. I light it. “Do you know when they’ll be back?”

He shakes his head.

I wait to see if he’ll give anything else away, but he doesn’t, so I pick my book back up, needing to give my mind a place to escape to. I don’t want to think about what my brother is doing right now and what would happen if he got caught.

Jameson shifts in his seat, and I hear the zipper of his backpack sliding open. A brown paper bag crinkles and glass clanks together as he sets it on the table. I glance up from my book to see what’s inside, and my eyes widen when he takes out three jars filled with weed.

After pulling the rest of the things out—a Ziplock half-filled with joints, rolling papers, and something circular I don’t recognize—he gets up and rummages around the kitchen, returning with a tray and another Ziplock bag.

I flick the ash off my cigarette and follow his movements as he lines everything up. Once he seems content with the placement, he twists the lid off one of the jars and a pungent smell fills the room.

He blows out a breath and looks up at me. “You’re staring.”

“What do you expect?” I sweep a hand out. “This isn’t exactly normal.”

A laugh that sounds more like a push of air leaves his lips. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

“You guess?”