Good Girl : An Enemies-to-Lovers, Roommate Romance (Alphahole Roommates Book 2), page 39
“No. Don’t.”
“I have to, sweetheart.”
Why does he keep calling me that? It feels too good.
I bite my lip and stare at the bedspread.
“Your upbringing was fucked from what I can tell, and you’re used to dealing with things alone. But you’re not alone. I’m here. I know I haven’t given you the impression that I wanna be, but I’m telling you here and now that I do. And you don’t need to pull back, hold back in any way with me. I want to be here for you. Let me be.”
I shake my head. “I can’t get used to that. I could easily get addicted and addiction is a bad thing, Austin.”
“Get used to it. Because you and me? This isn’t casual for me. Not anymore, and maybe not ever. I just had shit fucking with my head and I played it wrong. I played it wrong and that hurt you. I’m sorry about that, Jada, but I’m here right now, I’m here for you, and I’m not abandoning you again.”
“Austin…”
“I read the rest of the Smut File, baby.”
I jolt in surprise.
“The first night I knew you were staying at your father’s, before you came back and got your stuff. I sat right here and read all of it.”
“All of it?” I’m horror-stricken.
“All of it from chapter four on. I don’t know if you changed anything in one to three but yeah, four onwards. And-”
“Oh please stop.” I cover my ears and close my eyes. I can’t listen to this right now. I can’t believe he read that. After everything that happened, I can’t believe he went back and read it.
“Jada, listen.” He gently takes my hands from my ears.
“How dare you invade my privacy like that again!” Tears are flowing again. “And tell me now when I’m so… so broken… You’re such an asshole.”
He leans over and kisses my cheekbone. “I’m glad I read it. I’m glad, because it woke my shit up.”
“What does that mean? No, don’t tell me. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“It means, I’m here, I’m here for you, and I’m here for us.”
“Us?”
“Us. Yes, there’s an us. My head is outta my ass, baby.”
I shake my head. “You’re right, I can’t handle this right now. You have to stop, Austin. You have to. My dad died. And my mom died and my brother is in a mental hospital and I c-can’t do this.”
“Okay. Okay. We’ll talk about it later. Here.” He hands me the remote, leans over, and turns out the lamp.
When I don’t immediately turn the TV on, he speaks.
“Turn it on. It’s fine. I’m right here if you need me. Wake me up if you need me for anything, even just to talk, to hold you, whatever. Okay? Sleep on me or beside me, whatever you want.”
What?
To hold me? Whatever? Not okay. I’m so not okay, okay isn’t even in the same county as I am. It’s way beyond reach.
“Austin, I think you should go back to your bed.”
Or he should stick his head back up his ass because this is going to hurt like hell if it’s just a case of him feeling bad for me and realizing after I’ve gotten addicted that he doesn’t want me.
“Only if you come with me. That’s a bigger bed. Better pillows. Bigger TV in there, too. C’mon.”
“No. You go.”
“Yeah. C’mon.” He scoops me up in his arms and carries me.
I just stay there, in his arms, I don’t fight about it. Because I can’t help but love when he carries me. Instead, I decide I’ll pretend for tonight. I’ll let him sleep beside me. I’ll feel comforted that I’m not alone. For now.
Maybe I’ll even snuggle a little bit. Like a capuchin.
Because everything hurts, it hurts so bad. But it hurts a tiny bit less when he’s holding me.
Even if this isn’t going to last long, should I just let myself have this little bit of comfort while it’s on offer?
***
Three times I wake up startled, having dreams, feeling disoriented, and each time he’s here, reaching out to touch me, assure me he’s here, asking me if I’m okay, offering me a drink.
And each moment I think about losing my parents, I also think about the fact that it’s gonna hurt like a bitch when I lose this, lose him.
***
Sunday, he makes me bacon pancakes. I only eat two, but then he’s run me a bubble bath in Aiden’s big soaker tub with one of Carly’s bath bombs. I wonder if she told him to do it.
I take it a long bath, my skin feels like silk afterwards, and then get back into bed. I sleep a lot. A whole lot.
Each time I wake up to pee, watch TV for a bit, or to have some sips of water. He’s here. Sometimes he’s watching TV. Once, he was dozing with me. Another time, he was tapping away on his laptop.
“Too loud?” he asked that time when he caught me lying there staring at him from the pillow beside him.
I shook my head and closed my eyes again.
We spent all of Sunday in bed, me drifting in and out, until he wakes me at seven at night to ask me to eat something.
He wakes me by kissing my eyelids.
“I don’t want food.”
“What about dessert?”
Hm.
“Okay. What?’
“I’ll see what we’ve got.”
“Pudding. Fancy pudding.”
He leans over and drops a kiss on my lips.
“You want some fancy shit-brand pudding?”
“Yeah.”
A few minutes later, he’s back.
“Fancy shit-brand pudding sundaes.”
I sit up.
He’s layered pudding, bananas, whipped cream, and M&M candies. And he’s topped it off with an Oreo cookie instead of a cherry.
It’s the best shit-brand pudding sundae I’ve ever eaten.
When I’m done, he pulls me close and I watch four or five hours of renovation TV shows until I fall asleep again.
Before I fall asleep, I finally let my brain wander to the fact that he read the whole smut file. I wrote about us moving to California. About him taking me on his boat. I wrote about not just erotic sex games and him being bossy and me doing whatever he wanted me to do, I got to a point in the story where I mulled over a special dinner we were about to have and in the story, I’d pondered whether or not he was about to propose. And that’s where I stopped writing.
My face heats in memory.
He read all that and he’s not running. He’s doing the opposite of running.
The way he behaved just days ago had me thinking he’d be the type to go running at the first sign of a crisis that I couldn’t handle on my own. That he wanted nothing but uncomplicated sex games.
Instead, he’s here for me, being everything I’d want if I picked someone to be my person in a crisis.
But, I don’t think I’m going to be happy-go-lucky overnight. I can’t even begin to know how it’s going to feel to go tomorrow and make funeral arrangements and then break it to Shane that our father is gone, that our mother is also gone and has been gone for so long. And that Dad kept it from us.
How long before he gets tired of this crisis? And is he only here because he feels guilty about what I’m going through?
***
In my conversation with Shane’s doctor, a female doctor who has put my mind at ease about my brother finally getting the right care, she tells me I should be honest with Shane. Only by letting him deal will he be able to learn coping methods for his emotions.
She tells me he’s already showing signs of improvement after just a few days there in a new environment, on a new medication regimen. It’s progress. He’s no longer despondent. He’s emotional. And she says that’s a good sign.
She takes me through the place, a place that looks like a hospital from outside but that feels more like a residence inside with a huge dining room, with television and game room, exercise room, even a library. We find him in a TV room with a few other people. They’re all dressed in regular clothes and the room has games, puzzles, and some people are reading books or playing cards. She tells me they have massage therapists, visiting hair stylists, and are set up with a more spa-like environment without an emphasis on pampering but more on self-care with a helping hand.
Shane is playing Chess with a pretty girl in her mid to late twenties. He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie as well as tennis shoes that I’ve never seen. It dawns he has no regular clothes with him; I should get his stuff to him.
Shane’s eyes bounce up and he spots me.
This place is a lot better than I’d have expected, especially given what my brother being is in jail for.
Dr. Lexington told me there’s a good chance Shane will get approved to spend a few months here and then go onto probation with very stringent rules about drug use and staying on his prescribed regimen. He could thrive here; I can see it.
She’s working with his lawyer and the prosecutor, and they’re talking about coming to a deal after an assessment at his thirty-day mark. She says her superiors will analyze his progress and make recommendations to the court for review. She told me he’ll probably be here at least six months getting intensive counseling for his emotional issues as well as his substance abuse before he can leave, but that after four months he might be able to have weekend passes to visit with me, though drug and alcohol testing for when he comes back. He must stay 100% clean. He has to participate. His participation and progress are essential or his deal can be revoked. His first group therapy session happens tomorrow.
“Sorry to interrupt your game,” I say.
“We can play later, right?” he asks the girl. She smiles at him and then shoots me a dirty look.
“This is my sister, Jada.”
Her dirty look clears and she holds out a hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
I shake it and then Shane and I take a walk, Dr. Lexington following.
Austin’s waiting for me in a coffee shop across the street with his laptop, working. I told him it wasn’t necessary to even come, but he insisted. He told me to text when I’m done and he’ll meet me out front.
We’re taken to Dr. Lexington’s office and she asks if she can stay.
Shane agrees, looking confused.
“Your sister has some bad news for you, and I think it’s better if I’m here, for both of you.”
Shane frowns as he sits down on one of the chairs.
“It’s about Dad, Shane.”
Shane rolls his eyes.
“Dad passed away.”
Shane frowns and blinks a couple times.
“He had a mild stroke, so I went to stay with him and help him and we’re still waiting for the report, but they think he had another one, a massive one, and that’s what did it.”
He grabs his mouth and holds it a second and then his hand scrubs up and down his face. He’s processing.
He rises and paces the room, blowing out deep exhales and flexing his fingers over and over.
“He’s only 53. How can he be dead of a stroke at that age?” he asks.
My eyes bounce between him and his doctor, but she’s just watching, looking alert but not making any moves, not saying anything.
So I speak instead.
“Because he lived like crap, so his body was aging fast, I guess. He never went to the doctor so if there were warning signs with his cholesterol, blood sugar, or whatever, he-”
Shane comes back and grabs me and hugs me close. “Are you okay?” he asks me.
I take a deep breath. “It was hard. Um… I went to the funeral home this morning and made all the arrangements. I booked it for Friday, hoping you can come. I don’t know if you’ll be allowed or if that’s enough time to set everything up, but your doctor said she’d try to get permission – if you want to go.”
Dr. Lexington nods. “I’m working on it, Shane. It should be no problem. There will be a police escort, and I’ll attend as well.”
He flexes his jaw and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be there. For you. Not so much for him. I’ve got a lot of anger toward him, anger to work through, but I’ll come.” He nods. “I’ll come so that when I find my peace, I won’t regret not going, and most of all, for you. Sorry you had to deal alone, Jayjay.”
Shane looks and sounds more ‘here’ than the last time I saw him.
He sits down and takes a couple deep breaths.
“Thank you. But that’s not everything,” I say.
He leans forward and holds my hand, waiting, patiently. Looking like he’s calmer now.
“I found information in his dresser about Mom.”
Shane straightens, looking like he’s bracing.
“She died two years after she left. He never told us.” My voice hitches and I take a steadying breath.
“How?”
“She got hit by a car. I found a bunch of newspaper clippings. I think Dad found out about it when he was reading a newspaper. She was a Jane Doe until he must have identified her.”
“Two years?” he asks.
I nod.
“She still left us alone for two years.” His eyes widen.
I nod.
He blows out a breath, and then he pulls me close. I wrap my arms around my brother. He starts to cry.
I cry, too.
Dr. Lexington gives us a box of Kleenex and waits, with patience, as my brother and I cry for a good long time. She disappears a few minutes later briefly and returns with two bottles of water for us.
When Shane finally pulls away, he looks me in the eyes.
“Thank you for being the best baby sister in the galaxy. I hate that I’m in here and you’re dealing with this alone. I hate that I dragged you down with me. That I stole from you. That I left you struggling to take care of us. I should’ve taken care of us.”
“Stop it. I don’t regret being there for you. But I know you’re capable of standing on your own two feet, Shane. That’s what I want. For us to be there for each other and to be able to stand on our own as well. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. It does. How are you? Really?” he asks.
“I’ve got some … friends being there for me,” I say.
“Good.” He hugs me again.
His doctor speaks up and tells us we’ll have to wrap up our visit, that she’ll call me tomorrow or the day after to confirm she’s able to successfully set up Shane getting to come to the funeral. She tells us he’ll only be allowed to attend the actual service. No reception afterwards.
It’s better than nothing, so we agree, and Shane and I hug one another goodbye and he gets teary again.
I whisper in his ear, “I’m proud that you’re doing better. Please don’t hurt yourself again. Don’t leave me all alone in this world.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry I put you through that. So sorry. I was spinning out really bad and everything hurt so fucking much. I just wanted it to stop hurting so much.”
“Please know how much I would miss you if I didn’t have you.”
“I won’t do that to you, Jayjay. Promise.” He looks me in the eye.
I want to believe him.
But I’m scared of losing him too. So scared.
He gives me another squeeze and then I leave, thanking his doctor for all her help. She really seems to be going above and beyond.
“I am happy to try to help,” she says. “Is Austin waiting for you outside?”
I startle. “Across the street. How do you know Austin? Or is it just from the phone call?”
“I grew up with the Carmichaels. I was good friends with Adele in high school. I mean, we’re still friends but I live here so we don’t see one another much,” she says.
“Austin got you involved?”
She nods. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know. He reached out and we pulled some strings to get Shane into this pilot program here. You’re his girlfriend, right?”
“I don’t know that we’ve labeled things, but…”
“Austin who? Your new boss?” Shane asks. And then he smiles. “Good goin’ Jayjay.”
Dr. Lexington’s eyebrows shoot up and she smiles.
“I better go,” I say and get one more hug from Shane who’s going to go back and finish his game of chess.
She walks me to the door.
“Shane needs to do a lot of work, but with his medication and with him taking time to work through some of his issues as well as these new things – losing his parents – it’ll take time and effort, but I really do think he wants to do the work.”
“I hope he sticks with it. He has a hard time sticking with things, but we grew up in a home that wasn’t very loving or nurturing, and he just… he doesn’t think he’s got worth, I think.”
“His history shows he’s mostly just tried medications. We’re going to help him work through his issues, too. One without the other isn’t enough. Together, he’s got a much better chance.”
54
Austin
“You hired Dr. Lexington?” Jada asks, coming up to me in the coffee shop.
I look up from my laptop. “You okay?”
“Can you answer me, please?”
“Yeah, Tamara is friends with Adele. I made a call and asked if she had any advice about your brother’s situation. She and his lawyer talked and were able to work out getting him moved and put under her care in a pilot program that’s happening with the state and people who are in legal trouble due to mental health issues.”
She looks confused. “Was that… is that ethical?”
“It’s all above board. Nobody’s breaking any laws.”
She shakes her head. “Are you paying her? That’s a swanky hospital and I was afraid to ask about that fact.”
I flex my jaw.
“I’m paying for it.”
“And your company is paying my legal bills?”
“I am,” I admit. “I’m paying for all of it.”
Jada shakes her head and starts backing up. She bumps into a guy walking by. I reach out and catch her hand.
“Sorry,” she tells the guy.
He gives her an annoyed look and keeps going.
“Sit down here. Let’s get you something to eat and drink. How’d it go?”
She looks at me like she can’t figure me out.
“The EAP voucher?”
I shrug. “Made it up. Our company has an EAP but we wouldn’t pay $10K in legal fees for a temp employee.”
