That was the awful, complicated truth they both knew. Drugs and neglect didn’t stop you from wishing your parents would magically transform into a happy sitcom mom and dad. Betrayal, abuse, didn’t knock the affection out of you instantly.
“It’s just so ... bland. He never changed. He never reached out. He’s dead at sixty-five because he was a hard man who lived a hard life, and now that’s it. It’s never going to be fixed. It’s never even going to be better. Or worse. I’m never going to go yell at him for making my childhood terrible or ... for hurting my mother.” He paused. “I don’t know where she is anyway.”
She and Sam had spent their childhoods being alone. But this was a different kind of alone. There was a finality to it. Maybe nobody else would be able to understand, but she did. “Fuck him, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
She didn’t move to hug him, which seemed like a crappy thing to do because he had hugged her when she found out about Ben. But she was afraid to touch him. Moments like this underscored why. She knew everything about him. She knew why this hurt him, and how it hurt him. That it was a complex grief made of anger and sorrow and words that would now be left unsaid forever. Someday, when she lost her grandmother and her mom, she’d need this. The kind of knowing that came from years and didn’t require a big explanation.
“Thanks, Nora. I knew you were the one I needed to see.”
There was a heaviness to that, and it only increased the ache inside her. She was the one Sam needed. Because they were both so messed up, they understood each other’s brand of it.
Then it just seemed absurd for her to sit over on her side of the couch. To not offer comfort. To not give him physical affection when who else would? Who had ever hugged either of them?
She’d had Ben for a while, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t know all the parts of her. And yes, he touched her, kissed her. They had sex, but how could you comfort somebody when you didn’t really know what all their demons were?
She and Sam needed each other. She moved to him and wrapped her arms around him, bringing his head down against her chest as she rested her head on his.
Her heart was beating fast, her whole body felt warm, but she had just gone ahead and grabbed hold of him without overthinking it. Now they were touching in so many places, he was hot against her, and ...
He lifted his head, and it was very close to hers. She touched his face, dragging her fingertips along his cheekbone, down to the sculpted line of his jaw, and he moved, pushing her back slightly on the couch, bringing himself over top of her, his thumb and forefinger gripping her chin, and there was no way to interpret the hold as platonic.
I have the love I deserve.
She thought about that spell in her purse. It was almost like she could feel the heat from it.
Her heart was beating so hard, she thought she might die. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to move closer or move away. But she was scared.
She was so damn scared.
“Sam,” she said, her voice pleading. “Sam I ... Please don’t. Please.” But her breathing was labored, and she ached between her legs, which made lies out of her pleas.
He listened immediately, because he was Sam. Because he was the most trustworthy man she’d ever known. He moved away from her, and then there was distance between them. Profound distance. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. “Sam ...”
Her phone started to ring.
“Shit. Let me just ...” She didn’t recognize the number. She frowned. Then she answered. “Hello?”
“This is Sandy at Mercy Hospital. You’re listed as Ben Clarke’s emergency contact.”
“What?”
“Is this Nora Clarke?”
“Yes. Yes, it is. I ... Was Ben in an accident?”
“He’s being airlifted here in serious condition from a hospital in Chile.”
“Oh. When . . . when will he be there? What happened . . . ?”
“He should be here in forty minutes or so. The doctor can give you details when you arrive.”
“I’ll be there.” She hung the phone up, her heart in her throat. “They’re bringing Ben to Mercy Hospital. They airlifted him from a hospital in Chile ... He ... he had an accident.”
“Shit,” said Sam. “Let’s ... let’s go to the hospital.”
It was that quick. They’d been about to kiss, maybe, and now he was springing right into action to help her deal with Ben. Her chest was sore, a churning sensation in her midsection making breathing almost impossible.
What if Ben died?
