Page 43 of Wrecked

Early this morning, I left a tin of cookies at Sam’s door because I didn’t know what else to do. He won’t talk to me. He won’t answer my texts. I thought about leaving him flowers, maybe a single rose, but that didn’t feel right. That’s aromanticgesture, and I’m not in a position to offer him anything romantic. I don’t want to muddy the waters and hurt him any more than I already have.

It gutted me to see him last night, even for just a moment. He clearly looked pissed, hurt even. I just wanted to pull him into my arms and hold him. I wanted to comfort him.

Kiss him.

I wanted so desperately to kiss the hurt away.

I shouldn’t have gone down to his apartment last night, but I couldn’t stop myself, even though I had no idea what to say to make things better.

Hey, Sam, let’s be friends?

No, because I still want to fuck him.

Let’s be friends with benefits?

No, because that’s basically what happened the other night, and in the process Ihurthim.

It killed me when he told menolast night—that we couldn’t talk. He can hardly bring himself to look at me.

I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like this before.

At a complete loss, I head back up to the penthouse, where I find Shane sitting on one of the sofas in the living room. He’s reading.

“What are you reading?”

“Jamie’s new book. It just came out yesterday.”

Jamie, the third eldest McIntyre brother, is a former Navy SEAL now turned international best-selling military thriller author. He was also blinded in his final tour of duty in an explosion that nearly killed him.

Shane uses a slip of paper to mark his spot and closes the book. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m all ears.”

I glance toward the kitchen, looking for Beth.

“She’s still asleep,” he says as he sets his book on the coffee table. “Does this have anything to do with your recent shitty attitude?”

I start pacing. This is so damn hard for me to talk about, but Shane’s my only option. He’s the only one who knows about my past. About Cody’s death—hell, hismurder, because that’s exactly what it was. Those assholesmurderedhim because he was gay. And they nearly killed me as well.

Growing up gay in the South back in the sixties and seventies? It just wasn’t done. Sam grew up in Ohio in the late nineties—a completely different world by then. I don’t think he can imagine what I went through.

Shane motions to my feet. “You’re going to wear a path in the rug.”

I stop moving and face him. “I don’t know what to do.”

That catches him by surprise. “About what?”

“Sam.”

Shane winces. “Oh, man. I told you when he first started working here to stay away from him.”

“Yeah, well, it’s too late for that.”

“You two hooked up? Damn it, Cooper! I warned you not to.”

I nod. “It was just one time, about a week ago.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I made it crystal clear to him it was just a one-time thing. That was it. Just once. Nothing more.”