Page 10 of Rush

Allie is mostly a quiet, shy girl. Unless you get to know her and she feels safe around you, then she is chatty, and her sassy side peeks out. “Must not have been that great of a date if you’re home already.”

Defeat settles heavy on my chest as I shrug my shoulders. “Wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”

Allie’s eyes wander over me, and there’s a flicker of something behind her assessing gaze. I think she might say something profound enough for a teenager, but instead, she just nods her head. “Well, things here went great.”

I toe off my shoes and drop onto the couch next to her. “Mom texted me. She isn’t happy you’re here by yourself.”

Allie’s gaze moves to the blanket over her lap, and I see the way her small jaw clenches. “I didn’t mean for her to find out about your date. She FaceTimed me, and I couldn’t exactly hide where you were for the thirty minutes she insisted upon staying connected.”

“Hey.” I reach for my sister’s hand and pull it between mine. “I’m not mad. I don’t blame you, and I never asked you to lie for me either. I just wanted you to know so that when you get home you aren’t caught off guard by her attitude.”

“Still, I’m sorry she got mad at you. She’s always hard on you, Sam, and you don’t deserve it.” Allie squeezes my hand.

I want to keep the peace. Allie is my sister, but she’s also young, barely a teenager, and I don’t want to taint how she sees our mom just because of my mistakes.

“Thanks, Al. Don’t worry about me though, okay. Mom and I will get past it. She doesn’t agree with my life choices, but we’re working on it.”

Allie snorts and shakes her head. The one bad thing about my sister being so mature for her age is that she can already tell when I’m bullshitting. She loves me, and she loves our mom, as she should. “It's okay if she disagrees with you, Sam. Except sometimes Mom tends to hold you to a higher standard, and when she thinks you fall short, she’s mean.”

Her words hit harder than they’re meant to. I know my little sister is looking out for me, but it's hard to hear. I’m the oldest, yet I still keep hoping my mom will change. I keep hoping I won’t hear her voice in my head every time I make a decision, telling me that I’m wrong or that I’ll fail.

“Look, this is a mom and me issue. We’ll be fine. At the end of the day, we’re still family,” I remind her, and finally she gives me a small smile.

“That’s the same thing Aunt Paisley said too.”

I shrug and nudge her with my shoulder. “Who do you think I learned it from?”

We both share a smile and a silent appreciation for our aunt, my mom’s sister, the one person who’s kept our family intact the past two years when everything started spinning out of control. Instead of going down memory lane, I pull back and get to my feet.

“Are you sleeping on the couch or with me?”

Allie reaches over and turns the TV off. “I’ll sleep here. I was already dozing off when you came in.”

“Okay,” I tell her and reach for the extra blanket on the top of the couch, sliding it over her legs. “I’ll see you in the morning. And thanks again, Allie.”

My sister brushes me off with another smile before lying down on her pillow and closing her eyes. Quietly, I make my way down the narrow hallway and slip inside my bedroom. Instead of turning on the main light, I flick the switch for the smaller lamp next to my bed, quickly casting a warm glow in the room. I wash off my makeup in the adjoining bathroom and change into my pajamas before slipping under my covers.

I plug my phone into the power cord right as a new text comes in. My stomach clenches instantly, only relaxing when I open it and see it's just from Mac.

GYM BRO: It was great seeing you tonight. Maybe we can try a second first date sometime?

I close out of my texts and sigh into the darkness of my room. I already know I won’t be accepting another date with Mac. I’m not ready. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, and it terrifies me. None of them will ever be him.

“What do you mean, you live here now?” Shock ripples down my spine as his words fire on repeat in my brain.

“I mean I live here,” Jameson replies, a hint of mischief in his deep brown eyes. Eyes that have always had the power to move me, to melt my insides and give in to everything that was him and me.

“It's a garage, Jameson,” I say out loud, my thoughts still too chaotic. We haven’t lived in the same city or even the same state for two years. Not since everything fell apart.

“There’s an apartment above the garage. It's nice. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms and an open kitchen with a spacious living room. You’ll have to come up and see it sometime,” he explains, his brow rising while watching my reaction. Jameson is always watching; I don’t know how I forgot that.

My body acts on impulse, remembering the smoothness of his voice and the deep way it has always sent shivers down my spine. My chest flushes, and my stomach swoops, feeling like millions of butterflies taking off at once. He isn’t flirting with me. He isn’t even propositioning me. All he said was the word bedroom and it was enough to make a flush creep over my cheeks.

“Argh!!” I slap my hands over my eyes, trying to scrub the mental visual away. I still can’t believe that happened. And right before my date. It's no wonder things didn’t work out with Mac. But who am I kidding? It wouldn’t have mattered if I saw Jameson earlier or not, he’s been a constant in my mind since the day we met. No matter how hard I try, I fear my heart will never let him go.

jameson, age 21, present…

. . .