Page 97 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
“I’ve got you,” Adam murmurs, his hand rubbing circles on my back. “Let it out.”
“Robbie hates me, and you’re leaving, and I don’t know how to fix any of it.”
“Robbie doesn’t hate you. He’s hurt and confused and taking it out on the safest target—you. Because deep down, he knows you’ll forgive him.”
“What if I don’t want to forgive him?”
“Then don’t. At least not right away. You’re allowed to be angry, too, Kev.”
Adam holds me until I cry myself empty. His shirt is soaked by the time my sobs fade to hiccups, but he doesn’t complain. He keeps rubbing my back and being the big brother I need right now.
“You know what’s funny?” I say, my voice now hoarse. “This morning, I was worried about what to wear on the boat. So stupid now.”
“Not stupid. Just…before. This is after. Things change.”
“I don’t like change.”
“Nobody does. But it happens anyway.” Adam shifts back to look at me. “Remember when we were ten and Dad told us he was going to try dating again? Robbie threw that massive fit, said we didn’t need another person in our family?”
I nod, remembering Robbie’s epic meltdown that included throwing mashed potatoes at the wall.
“But look at us now. Dad has Diana, though she’s not around as much as he probably prefers her to be. Change isn’t always bad, Kevin. Sometimes it’s simply different.”
“This is bad, though.”
“Right now, yeah. But maybe tomorrow it’ll be less bad. And the day after that, even less. That’s how healing works—in small increments.”
I wipe my nose on my sleeve, too exhausted to care about being gross. “Who knew you were so smart?”
Adam laughs and ruffles my hair. “Come on, let’s get you properly settled. You’re about to pass out.”
He helps me get situated in his bed, adjusting pillows and making sure I have enough blanket. He grabs a sleeping bag from his closet for himself.
“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I tell him.
“You need the bed more than I do tonight.” He spreads out the sleeping bag. “Besides, it’ll be like when we used to camp in the backyard. Remember?”
“I remember you always told ghost stories that made me too scared to go back inside to pee.”
“I walked you to the bathroom, held your little hand, and pretended to stand guard.” Adam smiles at the memory. “Some things don’t change, Kev. I’ll always be your big brother. Even from California.”
“Don’t make me cry again. I’m dehydrated.”
Adam tosses me a water bottle from his mini-fridge. “Drink that before you fall asleep. And Kevin? You’re going to be okay. We all are. It just might take some time to get there.”
I nod, clutching the water bottle hard enough for it to make that crinkling sound. The room falls quiet except for the hum of Adam’s fan and the distant sound of music from Robbie’s room. He’s probably gaming with his headset on, something he does when he needs to think.
I close my eyes and let exhaustion pull me under, Adam’s presence a steady comfort in the darkness.
CHAPTER 22
my favorite things
Over the past three days, I’ve counted every tile in the kitchen, watched every episode ofI Love Lucy, and memorized all of the cracks in the living room ceiling. There’s one that looks like a lightning bolt near the corner, another that resembles a crooked smile by the light fixture, and my personal favorite—a meandering line that starts above the TV and wanders toward the window, trying to escape. I relate to that crack.
The couch has become my kingdom of self-pity. I’ve claimed it with a fortress of throw pillows and the ratty blanket Dad knitted when he was depressed after the divorce. Dad keeps trying to get me to eat actual meals at the table, but I’ve perfected the art of nibbling crackers while horizontal, letting the crumbs fall where they may.
My phone buzzes against my chest where it’s been sitting since I woke up. Another text from Jameson. He’s been checking in constantly since the boat disaster, sending me everything from terrible jokes to random photos of squirrels he sees on his morning runs. Each message is a tiny life raft in my ocean of guilt and misery.
