Page 33 of Something Good
We kissed like that—just kissed—until our lips were swollen and raw. My cock was aching, and I wanted him desperately, wanted to push him back, strip us both down, and worship him until we were sweaty and covered in cum, but there was something so pure in the way he kissed me. I’d never tastedhappiness in a kiss like I did with him. I didn’t want to ruin it by pushing him for more.
At length, we pulled apart, breathing heavily as we stared at each other. “You’re going to be the death of me, golden boy.”
His smile was as bright as the fireworks shooting off in the distance. “What a way to go.”
We feastedon the snacks he’d purchased, sharing a bottle of Coke between us, until eventually, he announced he needed to get home.
It was a stark reminder that he had people in his life who cared enough to want him to come home, while I’d essentially been responsible for myself for as long as I could remember.
We cleaned up our wrappers and folded the sleeping bag, tossing everything into the back seat before climbing in and heading down the gravel drive back to the highway, holding hands all the way back to town. I’d fucked guys. Even experimented with a couple of girls. I’d given head and received it. But I’d never held hands with anyone. How strange that the warmth of his palm pressed to mine could have a lump forming in my throat and emotion stirring in my chest in a way none of those other acts ever had.
I studied the outside of my house as we pulled up. No light spilled from the windows, welcoming me home. There wouldn’t be anyone asking about my shift at work or how my date went. But I’d spent a few hours under the stars watching fireworks with a boy whose smile had the ability to chase away all my shadows, at least for a little while.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, but before I opened the door, I turned back and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for tonight, golden boy. It was perfect.”
His soft smile imprinted into my heart as I climbed out of the Jeep and headed into the quiet house.
16
SAMMY
Sweat trickleddown my back as I contemplated the meager contents of our pantry—a box of generic toaster pastries, a half-eaten loaf of bread, and a nearly empty box of cereal—and let out a sigh. My paychecks from Walmart were not cutting it. I’d applied for jobs all over town, but most places weren’t hiring, and without a car, I wasn’t able to look farther outside of Astaire. Past-due cell phone, electric, and water bills sat on the counter, and I’d had to negotiate with Mrs. McGee to get an extension on our rent. Bless her, she was a sweet old widower who’d told me I reminded her of her grandson and had said to take all the time I needed. I was pretty sure Mom had defaulted on rent more than once, but Mrs. McGee had let it slide because of Jimmy and me. I offered to mow her lawn and do whatever other household chores she could find, but she’d just waved me off and, with eyes that saw everything I hadn’t said, told me to focus on taking care of Jimmy. I’d had a lump in my throat as I walked away.
I shut the door to the pantry and walked into our bedroom. It was stiflingly hot, but I’d had to turn the thermostat up to conserve electricity. Unfortunately, July in Nebraska wastypically hot and humid, and this year was no different. We couldn’t catch a break.
“Hey, I’m heading out. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Where are you going?” Jimmy’s attachment issues had relaxed some, but he still wanted every detail when I left.
“I’m gonna go get some food.”
Surprise registered on his delicate features. Typically, I brought groceries home from my shifts at Walmart. “Can I come?”
I debated my options. The issue was that I was heading to the church down the street, where I’d learned they opened their food pantry on Tuesdays and Saturdays. I didn’t want Jimmy to know things had devolved to this point, but he’d likely already figured it out anyway. I decided to be honest with him and give him a choice.
“I’m going down to the food pantry at First Lutheran. Are you sure you want to come?”
“Why didn’t you tell me things were this bad? I’m fifteen. I can get a job. You don’t have to do this all by yourself.”
“I don’t want you to have to worry about that stuff.”
“You think I’m weak. That I can’t handle it. Just because I have panic attacks or whatever doesn’t mean I can’t help. I’m not going to break, Sammy.” Between the heat of the room and his indignation, his normally pale cheeks were flushed.
I swiped a hand through my sweaty curls in frustration. “Look, I don’t want to be a dick, but youareprone to panic attacks, and you nearly fell apart right after Mom left. I know youwantto be strong, but?—”
“Fuck you, Sammy.” His voice was laced with venom, and I flinched as if he’d struck me. This wasn’t the first time Jimmy had called me out on something, but I didn’t think I’d ever heard that tone in his voice. He got up off the bed and shoved into my space. “Let me help. Ineedyou to let me help.”
I looked into his eyes, brown like mine, though a few shades lighter, full of determination and resolve. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop treating him like something that might break.
“Fine. You can get a job.”
There was no celebration, no smile, just a nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I just…you know I just want what’s best for you, right?”
“Yeah. I know.”
We walked aroundto the backside of the church, where a big sign readCommunity Assistance. Nervous energy coursed through me, and I wasn’t sure why. I’d never really been the sort of person who got nervous about things. Life handed you all sorts of bullshit, and you handled it. No sense in getting worked up or in overthinking something you couldn’t change.
