Page 45 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

He nods once. “The doctor gave me this stuff called Zofran…for my nausea. It works alright.”

The urge to ask what else they gave him almost overpowers everything. “Good.”

Fuck this is awkward. It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other. There’s this funk in the air caused by everything that’s happened. I rub my eyes, struggling to find something to say.

“My aunt is living in my house,” he blurts after long seconds, and I snap my eyes to his. He shifts in the chair, curling his arms around himself. “She’s been there for six months.”

“How come?” His lips purse, a stubborn move he’s done before when he doesn’t want to say something. I have to be gentle with him even though all I want to do is scream at him totalk to me.“Do you two not get along?” I ask instead.

“No,” he breathes and picks up the butter knife to fiddle with it. “No, we don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Her trailer magically caught on fire. Probably one of her many exes getting pissed he couldn’t crash there anymore.” His fingers tighten around the knife, the knuckles blanching. “So she came knocking.”

“And you let her stay?”

He nods once. Eli hasn’t said anything about her other than she was a pain in the ass. I don’t know their history or why it’d be acceptable for her to live with him. But he’s talking to me. Finally.

“Is it…permanent?”

“I’d really like for it not to be,” he grumbles, dropping the knife and wiping the sweat off his forehead. “She’s driving me crazy.”

Well, he can’t stay here. Kelly would lose her shit. Hell, everyone in my life would. But still, I find myself saying, “Kelly is going to be gone for the week. You can…if you need a place…”

“I’m not staying. Don’t worry. This isn’t me couch surfing,” he growls and leans back in his chair. “I didn’t come here for pity.”

“Then why did you?”

Scoffing, he glances at the ceiling. “Because all I want is my medicine, Phoenix. I feel like I’m dying. Everything hurts. Everything is too loud.”

My chest squeezes, remembering what he’d said in the hotel bathroom. “But it’s quiet with me?”

“I used to think that. But it’s not quiet. And you keep looking at me like that.”

I blink, straightening. “Like what?”

His head lowers, so we’re at eye level again. “Like I’m a bomb ready to go off.”

“Aren’t you?” I snap, slamming my palms on the table. “If I had anything in this apartment that’d take the edge off, you’d be stuffing it up your nose or swallowing it down despite knowing that this shit iskillingyou.” My arms shake while he glares at me.

“I probably would!” he yells at me, shooting to his feet and knocking the chair over. “No, I would because I can’t stand feeling this way.” He slaps his fist into his chest. “Coming here was a fucking mistake.”

He stalks over to the dryer and rips open the door. Gathering his still-wet clothes in his arms, he dumps them beside the suitcase. I go over to him and kick it out of his reach.

“Letting you in was a mistake,” I tell him, bumping my chest into his. “Giving you all these chances. Hoping you’d figure out your shit. You are anaddict. You have a problem.”

“Fuck you,” he snarls and pushes me.

I grab his wrists and yank him back to my chest while he fights me, but he is too weak. “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it?”

He slips his left hand free and slaps me. “You motherfucker.”

“Admit it,” I sneer, ignoring the sting in my cheek, and grab his head. My forehead bashes into his while he digs his nails into my chest to get me away. “Justadmit it, and then maybe you can fix yourself.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then, finally, something you said wouldmatter.”

That makes me flinch. He sees it and laughs, eyes wild. I guess he remembers the few times I tried to get deeper. The times I tried to talk about the ugly. “You’re going through withdrawals. Only junkies experience that.”

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