“You wouldn’t.” There was a tremor in her words and she gripped a chair. Her eyes were moist, but that didn’t stop him.
“Wouldn’t I?” Sam sneered. “I amyourson, after all. What about Dad? Is he in on this?” He’d lose his mind if he found out his father had known, too.
“Of course not, this is not something he would—” His mother stopped, attempted to gather herself. “No, he does not know. And he does not need to know.” She wavered. “Please.”
“You cannot ask me anything. Not. One. Thing. You saw to it that I didn’t even know I had a child.”
“Maya kept the secret, too. For sixteen years.” Paige’s voice behind him was almost a whisper.
Sam did not turn to face her. “I am aware. Don’t think I’ll forget that anytime soon.”
Sam’s mother approached him. “Can’t we just put this in the past?”
“Oh, I see. You want me to forgive you, to put in the past that you tried to pay off the woman I love. You played on her fear of abandonment and you got her to keep from me that she was carrying my child. A child that grew up without me. A child that I would have loved as much as I love Maya.” Sam was out of breath but he continued. “Then you and my fiancée conspire to continue to keep the truth from me? Why?” He turned to face Paige and was stopped by the hurt in her eyes.
Sadness surrounded her. “You still love her.”
“No. That’s not what I said.”
“Yes, it is, Sam. And it doesn’t matter. I can see it. I have been seeing it. Every time she’s around.” She turned and fled toward the bedroom. “And even when she’s not.”
“Don’t let her go, Sam.” His mother pleaded with him.
“I’m letting you both go.” He picked up his jacket and walked out, letting the door slam behind him.
He spent the night in a hotel, and when he returned in the morning, both his mother and fiancée were gone. Paige’s abandoned engagement ring caught the sunlight, a rock sitting on an island.
CHAPTER FORTY
SAM
Maryland, 1996
IFSHEDIDN’Tlove him, if she could actually say those words, there was no reason for him to stay. He tapped the coin in his pocket and stared at the closed door. He had pounded on the door to get her back, but only her mother had come out. Sunita had made it abundantly clear that Maya no longer needed or wanted him, and then, for the second time in the span of thirty minutes, a woman had slammed a door on him.
Sam turned on his heel and leaped down the porch steps. He headed for his car, expecting the burn of hot tears behind his eyes or a painful lump in his throat, but they didn’t come. A deafening pounding filled his ears, robbing him of rational thought. He put the car in gear and sped off away from her, leaving behind a trail of burning rubber.
He found himself parked at the soccer field, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, while a large pit expanded in his chest. In the dwindling crowd of players, he noted three of his college-bound strikers, getting in the last bit of time together before moving on to their respective universities.
Andy was sprawled out in the grass and Mohit and Kevin were taking turns blocking shots at the goal. A few older players were doing sprints and passes; a lone striker took shots on an unattended goal.
Sam opened the car door and was assaulted by Maryland’s suffocating August heat. He dug around the trunk until he found his cleats. The tightness of them—the pressure on his feet—that’s what he needed to feel, what he would prefer to feel. No need for shin guards or pads or gloves today. There was nothing left to protect.
Sam gave the trunk a satisfying slam and one of the boys turned toward him. “Hey, guys! It’s Coach!”
Mohit let the ball in the goal as his focus shifted to Sam. “Hey!” He motioned to Kevin as he jogged over to his coach.
Sam greeted the boys, though his attention was concentrated on the lone striker.
Mohit followed Sam’s gaze. “It’s just Nikhil—let him be, Coach. He’s still sore about that save you made.”
Nik kicked the ball right at Sam. Sam caught it with ease and waited as Nik sauntered over.
Nik paused a few feet from Sam. “Well, if it isn’t the famous Hutcherson.” Nik raised his voice, narrowed his black eyes and spread his arms out wide as if he had a grand audience.
“What do you want, Nik?” Mohit turned his body so he was standing between his coach and Nik. His arms hung by his side, every muscle and tendon tensed and ready to explode as necessary. The other boys followed suit.
“Oh, not to worry, kid.” Nik’s mouth was smiling, but his words were sharp. “I don’t want trouble. Just a chance to prove that Hutcherson here isn’t all that everyone thinks he is.” He set his lips in a hard line and froze his gaze on Sam. “Last year’s championship was mine, and you know it.”
