Always Him (Always #1)

Chapter Eleven

After a week of ignoring Jasper in my own apartment, I couldn't take it anymore; I knocked on my parent's door. My mother answered with a happy shriek; it'd been a long time since I came home without notice. She saw the bag I carried over my shoulder.

"Did something happen with the apartment?" I shook my head. Her eyes lost the giddy and turned serious. "Something with Jasper." I nodded. "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "No. It's something I can only talk about with him, and I'm just not ready yet. He did nothing wrong, though, so dad," I gave him a look that had him grinning sheepishly, realizing he'd been caught sneaking up behind my mother. "you don't have to plot how you're going to kill him. Leave him be; he's innocent."

Reluctantly my dad backed off. He remained on edge as I placed my bag down in my old room. They hadn't changed it since I left, always keeping it ready if I needed a place to stay. It wasn't a vacation, but I got away for a little while. I'd left a note for Jasper saying I'd be gone for a few days. I was probably scaring the shit out of him, but hopefully, he'd understand once we finally had our talk.

My old bed creaked as I laid on it—books sprawled around me. I tried to retain the information I was reading, tried to understand the worksheets that were assigned. It wasn't working. Typically I retained this stuff like it was candy. My mother knocked on the door after an hour, interrupting, not really, my homework time. She had a carton of ice cream and two spoons in her hands. I couldn't help but match her grin as she sat across from me.

We'd dug into the carton, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. I knew what she was trying to lead up to, and I wondered if she knew I was trying to steer the conversation far away from him. I think she did, but when she realized I would be staying more than just the one night, she backed off. She'd try again tomorrow, and I counted on it.

            When she left me, she made sure to kiss my forehead like she had when I was little. "Would you like a bedtime story?" I had to stifle my laughter; dad was already asleep.

            "Go to sleep, mom!"

            "Alright, alright." She laughed and shut the door behind her. She'd be back; she was a teacher, gossip was a part of life for her. She'd be back to find out more whether I was ready for her to know it or not.

Sure enough, the next night, another knock on my door. There was no ice cream in her hands this time; she held them out with a half-apology. "Nothing to offer this time." She began, slowly walking into the room. This time she didn't sit on the bed; she sat in the desk chair, wheeling it over to me. "You've got something on your mind." She tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "A lot on your mind." She'd amended.

If anyone dared look at me long enough, they'd easily be able to tell that I had too much on my mind. It was getting to a point where I almost considered going to therapy. It might help, but for how long? I didn't go after Blaine died. Would it still be worth it to go? Could my mom be my therapist? She was a school teacher; maybe she picked up some therapeutic skills the longer she taught. It was worth a shot.

"That obvious?"

A simple nod. "Yes. You're quiet. Normally when you come home, you talk so much that your dad goes into the backyard to chop wood. He hasn't left the living room. You haven't left this bedroom besides going to school and work. You haven't even called Jasper."

I snapped my head at her. "How would you know?"

She lowered her eyes, and I sighed in annoyance.

"You called him." I shoved the books off my lap; a couple landed on the floor with a thud. I didn't move; my mother flinched. "Why would you call him?"