Free More by Clare James Page B

it’s a really good movie—what I see of it anyway—when I’m not melting in Foster’s arms or daydreaming about his hands moving lower.
    When the movie ends, it seems neither one of us wants to move. We stay there curled up in each other. For this first time since this all happened, I almost thankful I broke my arm. Happy to have Foster close, thrilled to have him taking care of me, hoping it might turn into more.
    “You would be great at that, you know,” I tell him.
    “What? Cooking? I’m already great at it.”
    “No, running a restaurant. Your own place.”
    “Me? Come on. I’m not entrepreneur material. Plus, aren’t you the one always harping on me because I don’t have my shit together? You think I could run a restaurant?”
    “Yes, I do. The reason I tell you to get your shit together, is because I know you can do so much better.”
    “You say I run from responsibility.”
    “Well, you have in the past, but look at you now. Taking care of me. Your apprenticeship. You step up with things you care about. Maybe you haven’t cared enough in the past.”
    “Maybe I do better in the shadows of someone else. I’m the fuck-up, remember? The party guy. ”
    “Not true. I know that’s what you choose to believe. That’s where you’re most comfortable, but you’ve never been in the shadows, Foster. You’re more like an eclipse. You outshine everyone in the room, wherever you are.”
    “When was the last time you had your pain meds?” He laughs.
    “It’s not the meds talking, dumbass. I’m being serious here.”
    “Yeah, well, that sounds more like my dad. He was a dreamer, risk-taker, and look where that got him. I think I’ll stick to the sure thing.”
    “You’re not him, Foster.”
    Why can’t he see that?

Chapter 18
    Foster

    I spend the day running around like I’m batshit crazy—I drop Jules off, work at the restaurant, run errands, and stop by the Center to make sure the kids know I haven’t forgotten them.
    I’ve volunteered at New Day Counseling Center ever since Noah kicked me out of our apartment. Though I did spend a few months sulking and drinking first. Then I found something better. A place where I could be useful. I work with kids who lost someone due to drinking or drugs—overdose, accidents, drunk driving.
    While the parents and older siblings go to the Center for counseling and group meetings, I keep the younger kids entertained. We play games, hang out, and eat whatever treats I bring in. But sometimes it gets deep and we talk about what brought them in. That was the case last week—it’s also what sent me on my drinking binge. I admit it, I can’t stand to see kids cry. It messes me up.
    This afternoon, I could only stay a few minutes before I had to be back at D and D, and that’s left me a little edgy. I know I could’ve told Jules and she would have insisted I pick her up later, but she doesn’t know about the Center and I’m not ready to share that bit of information yet. It’d feel like I was only doing it for good PR or something—slimy and contrived.
    Similar to the situation going on in the apartment right now.
    Jules is giggling in the other room at something Jake said. Apparently they’re working on a case together.
    Working, my ass.
    Jules is whip-smart and incredibly talented, but I know this asshole has an ulterior motive. He wants Jules, simple as that. And he thinks this is the way to get her.
    I’m afraid he might be right.
    Yet here I am hiding out in Tabby’s room like a fucking pussy. This is what got me in trouble in the first place. Always worrying I’m not good enough, making my life’s decisions based on what someone else thinks of me. No more. Of course, I’m not giving up on Jules, but I have to get my shit together first. It’s the only way. Then the next step will be to convince Noah.
    I work on a few new recipes to show Chef Paul this week. He seemed pretty receptive to it. Though I should be in the kitchen doing this