Dalton lifts a hand and runs his thumb gently across the sore spot. “I’ll always believe you, Sam. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
I shake my head. “That’s not your responsibility. It’s not like you’re going to be around once we get back to Haversham.”
My throat is tight, but I push the rest of my words out. “After Christmas is over, we won’t see each other again. I don’t want you making promises you’re not going to be around to keep.”
Thirteen
Dalton
Sam is right. The realization hurts more than I want to admit. I don’t want to think about not being there for him again. He’s so sweet and kind; I want to be there to tear down anyone who might hurt him.
He’s quiet for a long minute, and I know he’s waiting for me to say something. It’s the perfect opportunity to tell him I don’t want to leave him, even when we do get back to the city. I want to see him again, build something with him I’ve never dared to try building with anyone before.
But as soon as the thought enters my head, a tiny voice shoves it back out. Who am I to be happy? After what I did to my brother. I got him killed; I don’t deserve to have a life with Sam.
He clears his throat and takes a step away from me. “Listen, I want a few minutes to myself, okay?”
I hate the thought of leaving Sam alone in the room after what happened with Arnie, but it’s what he wants.
So instead of demanding he let me stay, I head downstairs and find Dad at the bar with a cup of coffee. I’m guessing he’d rather be drinking something stronger right now, but none of us have had alcohol since the night Colt died. It wasn’t something we discussed, but overnight, any bottles disappeared from the house. Sophia and I both carried that with us to our own lives.
“Sam okay?” Dad asks as I take the stool beside him.
“I think so. He says he wants to be alone.”
“Hmm.” Dad takes a sip of coffee and stares out the window for a long minute, watching the snowfall. Then he asks, “How long have you known Sam? Tell me honestly, Dalton.”
“I told you. Six months.”
“You’re lying to me.” He shifts his gaze from the window to me, though he doesn’t look angry. Just curious. “I saw the look on your face when Sam was talking about his brother, his dad. If you guys had been together six months, you’d know all that. And I saw the way you looked at the picture of his brother. You were surprised by how much they looked alike. Which means you hadn’t met him before, but Sam is so close to him.”
I want to lie again, but he wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t want to fight with him. “A few days ago.”
He takes a deep breath. “Dalton, what happened?”
“He was working at a club, Vinnie’s, and I went there to meet one of Arnie’s friends for business. The guy grabbed Sam, and I got involved, and Sam ended up fired. I wanted to give him money, but he wouldn’t take it, so I asked him to come home with me, like a business transaction.”
Dad stares at me for a long minute, looking torn between disbelief and disappointment. “Dalton.”
“I know. I should never have done it, but it was my fault he was fired. I couldn’t just walk away.”
“Relationships aren’t a business transaction,” Dad says. “And no matter what you may want to say, you already know that. It’s why you beat the shit out of Arnie instead of just pulling him off Sam and throwing him out.”
I glance down at my bruised and bloody knuckles, comforted by the memory of Arnie’s ribs breaking underneath them. “He was trying to hurt him.”
“I know that. And you reacted like a real boyfriend does.”
I don’t respond. I don’t want to admit how much I’ve grown to like Sam in the few short days we’ve been together. I’ve never been the kind of guy who did anything spontaneous, not since the party when I was sixteen. After that, I made calculated decisions about everything. It all changed the minute I sawBryce grab Sam in the club. Suddenly, something mattered more than the night my brother died, and I’m not sure what to do with that.
“He’s a good guy,” Dad says. “You should tell him the truth, that you don’t want to end this.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m too busy.”
“You’ve never been too busy for anything you really wanted; you’ve made time.” Dad turns fully on his stool to face me. “What’s really stopping you?”
I can’t tell him the truth. I don’t want to bring my brother’s name into this conversation. Not when I know how much it hurts him to hear Colt mentioned.
“Okay, if you’re not going to say anything, let me tell you what I think. I think you’re scared of loving someone because you might lose them like we lost your brother.”
