I stared at the message until the words blurred, trying to reconcile it with everything Jenna had told me.
There were messages from my parents, from Harper, from Sarah at the clinic, all asking if I was okay and when I was coming back. But it was Sam’s messages that made me finally understand what I’d done.
I’d run away from a conversation that might have saved us instead of destroying us. Worse, I’d lumped Sam in the same box as Sean, assuming the worst instead of trusting the man I’d fallen in love with.
The drive back to Willowbrook felt endless. I kept rereading Sam’s messages at rest stops, trying to piece together what hadreally happened. By the time I reached the town limits, I was a mess of anxiety and hope and dread.
I’ll be waiting at home when you’re ready to hear the truth.
Part of me had expected to find an empty house – expected that, despite his messages, Sam would have moved out like I’d asked. The other part hoped desperately that he’d still be there.
His truck was in the driveway when I pulled up.
I sat in the driveway for ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to go inside and face whatever conversation was waiting for me. The house looked exactly the same as when I’d left, but everything felt different. I felt different. Three days on the road had stripped away the panic and hurt, leaving behind a clarity I hadn’t possessed when I’d fled.
I’d run away because I’d been scared.
But sitting in my driveway, looking at the house where Sam and I had built something real together, I finally understood what my mother had tried to tell me years ago after the Sean disaster: sometimes you had to trust that love was stronger than fear.
I’d learned in veterinary school that healing required the right environment - clean wounds, proper nutrition, freedom from stress. Trust was the same. It needed safety, honesty, and time to regrow properly.
The front door opened before I reached it, and Sam appeared looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled, his eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion. But when he saw me, his entire face transformed with relief and hope and something that looked like desperate joy.
“Chloe.” The word was barely a whisper, filled with relief and disbelief.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly unsure of myself. “Your message said you’d be waiting.”
“I would have waited however long it took.” He stepped aside to let me enter my own house. “How was… where did you go?”
“Nowhere special. Just drove. Small motels where no one knew me and I could pretend my biggest problem was which exit to take next.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Did it work?”
“No. Turns out you can’t drive far enough away to stop loving someone.” I set my bag down by the door, noticing the tiny signs that Sam wasn’t just waiting for me but that he hadn’t actually moved out. “You stayed.”
“Of course! I couldn’t leave, Chloe. Not when I knew you were coming back to a conversation we needed to have.”
“Sam, I need to know the truth. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll tell you everything,” he said immediately. “But first, are you okay?” he asked, then shook his head. “No, that’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Are you willing to listen? Are you willing to consider that maybe the situation isn’t what she convinced you it was?”
I studied his face, seeing exhaustion and regret and desperate hope, but not the guilt I’d expected to find if Jenna had been telling the truth about him wanting to end our relationship.
“I’m willing to listen,” I said. “But, I need complete honesty.”
“Complete honesty,” he agreed.
We settled at the kitchen table where I’d written the note before I left, and Sam began talking. “I don’t know where to start, but maybe with this,” he said, pulling the engagement ring from his pocket and setting it on the table between us.
I stared at the ring I’d seen the receipt for in his office weeks ago, the ring I’d been so excited about before everything fell apart. My internal cheerleader, who had been sulking in a corner for days, lifted her head with cautious interest.
“Tell me everything,” I said. “From the beginning.”
Sam took a deep breath. “I was planning to propose on your birthday at the Rosewood Inn, but just after we sat down, I received a text from Jenna with photos of Leo. The text said he was my son. I went to see them the next day. She said she’d split up with her husband and had nowhere to go. They were staying in motels, running out of money. I panicked and gave her cash - a few hundred dollars - just to make sure Leo had food and a place to sleep while I figured out what to do.”
“Cash?”
“I know, I know. Arthur told me that it was stupid the minute I told him about it. No paper trail, no documentation. He said from that point forward, everything had to go through legitimate channels - credit cards, receipts, everything documented.” Sam ran his hand through his hair. “So I stopped the cash and paid for everything directly - motel, meals, toys for Leo. All documented and traceable.”
