Page 75 of Always Love You More

She glances at me skeptically as she takes it and pulls a cell phone out. Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “You got me a phone?”

“Well, you don’t have one, and”—I watch as she turns it over in her hands—“I wanted a way to be able to talk to you and a wayfor you to reach out if you ever need me. Or your brother,” I tack on. “You can always call your brother with it.”

“I don’t …” She shakes her head. “This is too much.”

“There are some cards in the bag with minutes,” I tell her, moving right past what she said. “Just let me know when they run out, and I’ll get you more.”

“You don’t have to …” She puts the phone back in the bag. “You don’t have to buy me things. I’m not with you because—”

“I know.”

“So, then why—”

“It’s more for me than it is for you, anyway.”

Her brows furrow. “How’s that?”

“Now I can talk to you whenever I want.”

I watch as a smile lights up her face.

“And I won’t have to worry about you as much.”

She tilts her head. “You worry about me?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, all the time.”If she only knew.

“Well, thank you.” She folds the top of the bag, tucking it under her arm. “Really.”

“Anything,” I say, the word falling easily from my lips.

“Hmm?”

“Anything for you.”

Her face shifts, and she stares back at me with this look. Like I matter. Like I mean something to her.

I rush on, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “My number’s on a piece of paper in the bag.”

She glances down at it.

“I put Billy’s in there, too.”

She opens her mouth to respond then snaps it shut when my father yells from down the hall, “I’m not telling you again, boy!”

I stride past Sam so I can walk out first, turning to make sure she’s following me, and when I push open the door, I’m relieved to find the hallway empty.

Voices filter into the space as I grab Sam’s hand and guide her back into the kitchen. We round the corner, and her brother’s gaze immediately finds hers. He looks from her to me then back to her again, his attention briefly catching on our intertwined hands. Johnny doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tilts his head to the side, and Sam quickly nods in response.

My father watches them curiously before turning to Johnny. “Thirty minutes,” he states.

“Just gotta drop her home and grab the bag.”

My father looks over at me. “You’re with us.”

Sam tenses beside me, her grip on my hand growing tighter.

My old man tracks the movement. “Sweetheart,” he condescends, “you’ve gotta let him go.”