That was an eventful evening. The three of them were covered in blood, none of it theirs, but it still looked dramatic. Mal was out cold, and Gray was frantic. Sammy had driven them and was a little hysterical. Understandably so. It was a hell of a way to discover that paranormal beings exist.
My reminiscing is interrupted by faint sounds reaching my ears. I can hear music. And Sammy’s off-key singing. I can also smell alcohol.
I creep down the hallway and ease the door to Sammy’s room open just a sliver. Just enough so I can peek in.
Sammy is standing in the middle of his room. Swaying. He is cradling a nearly empty bottle of vodka to his chest and singing along to a sad song that is playing from his phone on the bedside table. He is wearing a pink fluffy robe and his hair is all messy.
As is his room. My eyes widen as I take it all in. Clothes and empty bottles are strewn everywhere. I can barely see the carpet. The bed looks like the sheets and pillows had a fight.
But Sammy is safe, and that is wonderful. He is drunk and singing a sad song and his emotions swam down our bond to me.
Suddenly, he whirls to face me. I’m only peeking through the door, but his eyes unerringly find me. Eyes full of sorrow and brimming with tears.
“Blue!” he calls brightly, as if I am his most favorite person in the world. “Come in!”
I can see the sadness in his eyes, why is he pretending to be so cheerful? I step into his room and close the door behind me. Maybe he does need me after all.
“Let’s…” he stops and turns a little green. “I need to go to the bathroom. But then we can dance!”
He throws his arms up in the air, bottle still in hand. The movement causes his robe to open and reveal his chest. He is surprisingly toned. Which I saw the other day in the burger place because his top was see-through. But there is something different about seeing his bare skin.
He staggers to his bathroom. I stand alone in the middle of his messy room and sigh.
The sad song finishes, and another one begins to play. What on earth is he listening to? It’s awful, whatever it is. And not good for him.
I walk over to his phone and jab at it until I figure out how to turn it off. The sudden silence is jarring.
Sammy is still not back from the bathroom. I should probably go check. The bathroom door is open, so I tentatively step in and find Sammy in the empty bathtub. Fast asleep and still clutching the vodka bottle.
Shaking my head, I grab a tangled blanket off the bed and cover him with it. Then I quickly pop down to the kitchen to get some bin bags. He is still fast asleep when I return, so I gently pull the bathroom door closed. Not all the way, just enough so I don’t disturb him.
I survey the destruction that is his room for a moment. A heavy sigh escapes me. Empty bottles, I think I will start with those. That’s a good place to start.
I drop to my knees and start shoving bottles into a bin bag. They clink softly and I start humming a tune. This place is going to look so much better when I’m finished.
Movement in the bathroom catches my attention. Then the sounds of Sammy being sick reach my ears. It sounds like he has gotten out of the bath and is vomiting into the toilet. And he is not choking. So it’s probably best to give him his privacy.
I continue to collect empty bottles while keeping one ear on Sammy. After a while, he staggers out of the bathroom. He leans heavily in the doorway and stares at me.
Suddenly, he lurches forward and falls to his knees beside me. He snatches the bin bag from my fingers.
“I’ll do it!” he exclaims as he frantically scoops up everything within his reach and shoves it into the bag.
I was going to do separate bags to make recycling a lot easier. I try to take the bag back, but he crawls away from me.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he slurs as he scoops up his clothes, empty chocolate wrappers, and wine bottles all into the same bin bag. “I didn’t know it was bothering anyone. I’ll clean it. I’ll keep it clean. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay,” I try to say, but I don’t think he can hear me. He is lost in some sort of panic.
“Please give me another chance. It won’t happen again. I’ll do anything you want.” He sucks in a big, shuddering breath. “Please don’t throw me out. I really like it here.”
All his jerky movements stop. His fingers leave the now very full bin bag. His hands rise to cover his face and he sobs. A lost, broken sound full of pain and heartache.
I watch in horror as his shoulders shake. Sammy is crying. No, he is sobbing his heart out. While kneeling in the middle of his messy room. The grief-stricken sound is clawing at my soul. Notes of pure loneliness and despair are filling the room. It is the most heartbreaking song I have ever heard.
Why does he think he has to leave? He doesn’t know he is my mate, but he knows he is Mal and Gray’s son. And everyone likes him. Because he is lovely.
This is his home. Forever. This is his family.
