Page 93 of Always Love You More

“Nothing’s gonna happen, baby,” Jameson says, just before Johnny adds, “We’re careful.”

The car is quiet as we turn onto our street. Johnny slows in front of our house, and a heaviness fills the space as he parks.

I sit, wringing my hands in my lap.

“Bug,” Johnny says gently. “We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” I force out. “Yeah, okay.”

“But we really need to go.”

Jameson gets out and opens my door. “Come on; I’ll walk you in.”

I turn to Johnny. “Please, be careful.”

“I always am.”

I take Jameson’s hands and let him lead me up to the front door.

“Text me as soon as you get home,” I tell him.

“I will,” he promises, leaning down to kiss me.

He tips his chin toward the door, and I turn, unlocking it, then watch from the window as he jogs toward Johnny’s car and they pull away.

“What’re you looking at?” My father’s voice comes from behind me.

I spin around. “Nothing.”

He grunts, and I start for the kitchen but pause when he surprises me by asking, “How was school?”

“It was good.” I shrug. “I really—”

“Found it,” Carson says, jogging down the stairs.

My father’s attention shifts to him, and just like that, our conversation is completely forgotten.

“Well, put it on,” he orders, motioning to the TV.

Carson crowds my space, muttering, “Move, you’re in my way.”

I take a step back and head for the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it from the sink, groaning when I see the pile of dirty dishes.

The sound of a football game comes from the living room as I grab the ingredients for dinner.

After frying up some chicken and making a quick side of mac and cheese, I take two plates to the living room. I get a grumbled thanks from Carson and our father before I go back into the kitchen.

I make myself a plate and settle in at the table, opening up my history textbook. My phone is sitting right beside me, and I can’t stop myself from continually glancing over at it, as if that’ll magically make a text come through from Jameson. I know it’s probably too early for them to be done, but I can’t help myself.

How long does it take to rob a pawn shop, anyway?

I push the anxiety away and tell myself that they’ll be fine, trying to focus on what I’m reading instead.

I finish all of my homework and then scrub the kitchen until it’s spotless, trying to give my mind anything that’ll distract it.

I glance over at the clock.

8:45.