Page 182 of Always Love You More

I move past Sam, heading back to the kitchen, trying to calm myself for what I’m about to be met with.

“What’d you do to him?” my mother demands.

I ignore her question, asking my own. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

I scoff. “Don’t play dumb.”

She stares back at me, her arms crossed over her chest, a defiant look on her face.

“The money!” I yell. “Where’s the fucking money, Ma?”

“Gone,” she says.

“No,” I tell her. “I gave you the code yesterday. There’s no way you …” I notice the robe she’s wearing, realizing I’ve never seen it before. “Where’d you get that?”

She shrugs.

“There should’ve been over a grand in that safe. You spent a fucking grand in one day?”

I can’t believe she did this, or maybe I can and that’s what’s worse.

Thank God I have another safe in my closet or we’d really be fucked.

Sam comes to my side. I barely register her touch when she sets a hand on my arm.

I break free of her hold, storming down the hall and into my mother’s room. I throw open the closet door, finding shopping bags piled on the floor. “It’s all going back.”

I gather up the bags, toss them out into the hall, then move for her nightstand. I rip open the drawer, shifting through the contents.

My mother tears through the room, moving toward me frantically. “You can’t just go through my things like this. I deserve privacy. I deserve—”

“You lost that right when you spent our money on a shopping spree and your next fucking high.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” I yell, my hand stilling.

“I make my own money. I should be able to buy—”

I turn, cutting her off, “You work part-time, Ma. The money you bring in barely covers the electric bill and groceries.” I wave a hand around the room. “How do you think we pay for all of this?”

“Believe me,” she says, “I know exactly how we pay for it. You never let me forget.”

I shift back to the drawer and continue rummaging through it.

She closes the space between us, her words coming out too fast. “I never get anything. I have nothing for myself. No space. You can’t just come in here and …”

I shake my head when I finally find the little bag of white powder I knew would be here. Grabbing it, I push the drawer shut.

“Give me that!” she screams.

“No.”

She snatches my hand, trying to pry it open.

“Jesus, Ma. Stop!”