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The call went to voice mail when I didn’t answer. And just like that, I was immediately flooded with guilt. The weight of it covered me like a cloak. I grunted at the ceiling.

I always answered when people called me, if I had the ability to answer. Was it wrong to want to turn off my phone and keep it off for the night? Or to at least silence it? I’d never turn it off completely. What if there was an emergency? God, what if Marley got sick again…?

No, I needed to be able to receive texts for that very reason, and if I turned off my phone, I couldn’t do that.

Sometimes I missed living with my parents. I felt like I needed permission not to call Brian back and instead take some time to myself. How ridiculous was that?

I unplugged my phone from the charger and carried it into the living room.

I already had Brian’s contact information pulled up and was a second away from calling him back, but my thoughts had drifted to Marley and were staying there. I hadn’t checked on her since this morning. I wanted to make sure she was still feeling okay. And maybe get a little help from Nathan, since taking a night off seemed to be something I couldn’t do on my own.

Smiling, I collapsed onto the couch and dialed him up instead.

He answered on the second ring. “What are you doing, Shorty?” His voice was low and smooth. He was clearly smiling.

I closed my eyes and pictured it.

“Nothing,” I said, knees drawn up. “Well, I want to be doing nothing, which I’ll get to in a minute. Tell me how Marley is doing first.” I looked down at my toes, at the plum-colored polish chipping off.

Mm. Another “me” thing I could absolutely get into tonight.

“She’s good. No fever all day. I checked it every hour.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Oh, Nathan. “You were on it.”

“Made that virus my bitch.”

My head hit the back of the couch as I chuckled, hand to my mouth.

“You laugh so fucking pretty. I love listening to you.”

I felt my face flush. “Thank you. I love laughing.”

“Now what’s this ‘you want to be doing nothing,’ shit? What’s keeping you from doing nothing?”

“Me.”

Nathan was silent for a long moment. “Okay.”

He sounded completely perplexed. As well he should. I couldn’t let myself do nothing? I was absurd.

“You see, my brother called and I didn’t pick up because I just don’t want to get roped into this long, drawn-out conversation right now. I just want to sit on my couch and watch episodes of Claws, possibly paint my nails—actually, not possibly. I really want to do that. They look bad—maybe snack a little, drink some wine…I don’t know. Whatever. I just want to do whatever I want or nothing. Maybe just sit here and stare off until I fall asleep. But I feel guilty for not answering him and I’m having difficulty not feeling that way. It’s bothering me. I’m very bothered right now, Nathan.”

“I can tell.”

“And you said to reach out to you if I ever found myself in a situation I couldn’t handle on my own…I thought maybe you could help me with this. Tell me I can avoid everyone and everything tonight, except in cases of emergencies, of course. I’d never ignore someone if they truly needed me.”

“You couldn’t. That’s not you.”

“It’s why I carry a spare phone charger with me at all times. You never know when the one might stop working, and then what if my phone dies? I can’t risk that.”

His laugh was quiet and sweet. “I am not at all surprised that you carry a backup phone charger.”

“What’s the point of having a big purse if I’m not stuffing that thing full, am I right?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, but yeah, sure.”

I heard movement through the phone. Quiet shuffling, the squeak of a mattress. Nathan was in bed. Yum.

“Just getting into position here,” he shared. “Hold on, okay?”

“Take your time.”

“No, Jenna.” Nathan’s tone grew harsh and demanding. “Don’t tell me to take my time. Don’t wait for me. This is something you need, right?”

“Yes.”

“So tell me to hurry the fuck up with it.”

“Uh.” What? “O-okay…” I sat up a little taller. This was odd, but what the hell? “Move your ass, Nathan. Jesus.”

“I’m just getting comfortable first.”

“Why do you need to get comfortable to help me? Why is this about you? I should be the one getting comfortable…Yes, I absolutely should. Let me do that.”

I stood from the couch and moved into the kitchen, grabbing supplies, which included an already open bottle of wine and a bag of barbecue Lay’s. Then I hurried to the bathroom to grab the little basket containing nail polish, remover, and cotton balls. With my arms full and the phone pinched between my ear and shoulder, I returned to the couch.

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