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He doesn’t know when to stop fighting. That’s what I’m for.

I put two fingers beneath his chin and hold him still while I kiss his forehead. “Sleep.”

Jamie turns his face away the moment I release him.

I tuck the blanket around his shoulders. He can refuse the kiss. He can’t refuse being cared for.

I leave the room and lock the door.

I have a lot to do before he wakes up.

CHAPTER 7

Heather

The cookies are back in stock.

I buy two packages, along with groceries for the week and three kinds of fruit. Jamie ate the apple at lunch, but beautiful things deteriorate if you don’t feed them properly. And I’ve been craving strawberries.

His apartment is twelve minutes from the grocery store.

I’ve been here before, but never inside. I park in his usual spot and take his keys from my pocket.

The building is quieter than it usually is when I watch from across the street. Middle of the day means most people are at work. Someone’s left a bicycle chained to the railing. There are two packages outside the downstairs apartment and a flyer caught beneath the front door.

Nobody pays attention to me.

His apartment smells like him. Vanilla first. Something fresh underneath it. Laundry detergent, maybe. Mine smells better.

I close the door behind me. I’ve seen pieces of the apartment through the windows, but not enough to know he has a yellow couch. It’s awful.

Jamie apparently can’t be trusted with furniture either.

There are two blankets folded over the back and a stack of records beside the turntable. Three mugs sit on the coffee table. One has a dried ring of something dark in the bottom.

He’s been living like this?

Bathroom first.

There are six bottles in his shower. I check each one until I find the vanilla shampoo. The conditioner matches. Both go in my bag.

There are three more hair products beneath the sink. I don’t know which ones he uses, so I take all of them. He has a straight iron and hair drier that look more expensive than the ones I have. They come too. I need whatever supplies keep his hair soft enough to wind around my fingers.

His toothbrush stays. I bought him a new one.

I check the medicine cabinet before I leave the bathroom. Pain reliever. Allergy medicine. Bandages. Antacids. I take all of it. I don’t know what Jamie needs yet, and medicine is easier to have before you need it.

The cabinet underneath has extra toilet paper and a half-empty package of cotton pads. I already have both. They stay.

His bedroom is next.

The bed isn’t made. Gray sheets. Gray comforter. Two pillows, one without a case. Mine are better.

His closet is crowded.

I start on the left. Three black sweaters. Keep. A dark green cardigan I’ve seen him wear to work twice. Keep. A red shirt with a stretched collar. I leave it on the hanger. The next shirt has tiny embroidered mushrooms around the cuffs. I haven’t seen this one before. I put it in the bag.

There are skirts farther down. Most are black. One is plaid. Another is dark purple and soft enough that I rub the fabric between my fingers before folding it. Keep.