Forty-four
Riding on the back of a motorcycle while woozy is much harder than it looks. Every turn is an invitation to slide off the seat onto the peaceful pavement, every straightaway, an invitation to curl around Alex’s warm body and fall into blissful sleep.
I think he knows how close I am to passing out, because any time his left hand doesn’t have to be on the clutch, he holds my arms to his massive chest. The ride home takes three times as long as the ride to the Armory because he’s going so slow.
What a disaster of a night. At least now, I can’t delude myself into thinking James only feels brotherly toward me. It’s okay, though. I can handle my brother. He’d never hurt me, and if I put my foot down about the kissing, he’ll stop. I know he will because he loves me and I love him and that’s what we’ve always done—whatever is best for the other person.
At least he’s always done that, giving up everything to give me as good of a life as I could possibly have at home with our father. What teenage guy works full time in a paper mill to take care of his sister? He should be out dating all the girls that followed him around school last year, or even one of the ones that gape or flirt or throw themselves at him when we’re out in public now. Maybe if he went out with all of them, he wouldn’t have those kinds of thoughts about me.
It’s my fault and these fights are just more of the same—James destroying his body to protect me. I’ve pushed him so hard about money and getting out of this house. I’ve tied him down his entire life, tied him to me and to our father and to keeping me safe instead of taking care of himself.
I’m an awful, awful person.
And then there’s Sam. After what happened this evening, I feel like a hollow shell—a Sarah-sized husk without the living center that usually breathes strongest when I’m with Sam. He loves me. I love him. He lied to me. I’ve lied to him.
And now I can’t find my way back.
Maybe that’s a good thing. I have no idea what he sees in me. Strength, he says. Beauty. A big heart. I see none of these things. I see fear, flaws, and a heart so full of blackness I can’t give up my own selfish wants to set him or my brother free. He’s given me a glimpse of what happiness should feel like, so maybe I should be grateful and move on. If I’m certain of anything, it’s that Sam Donavon can do better than me.
I owe James my life. I owe Sam the life he deserves. One believes wholeheartedly he’ll be lost without me—a fear I’ll probably never be able to talk him out of—and the other will go on to bigger and better things regardless. When I think of it that way, my decision is clear.
I don’t like that decision.
I must’ve passed out after all, because the next thing I know, familiar arms are carrying me to the front door. My hands fumble around for keys that aren’t there, but Alex shushes me. No, not Alex. Sam. He tells Alex about the house key dangling from the chain with his father’s dog tags, and then we’re inside.
Burnt meat, soot, and old cigarette smoke greet us, but are soon overtaken by the familiar comforting scent of James and our room. My sheet feels cool and inviting through my clothes. For the first time, I want to sleep naked, to feel that coolness against my skin while I dream and wake up a new person. I reach for Sam, wanting him to take my clothes off, wanting him in bed with me, wanting to push him away, wanting, wanting, wanting.
“We’re going to let you sleep,” he whispers. “James left with Leslie, so there’s no way he’s coming home tonight. I’ll check on you as soon as I get off work, okay? I’ll only be gone a few hours.”
His face. Oh God, his beautiful face. Half of his mouth is swollen and oozing blood, one of his eyes has turned a ghastly shade of maroon. I did this. He loves me and I did this.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, but it isn’t enough.
He smiles and gently presses his broken mouth to my scabbed lips.
Behind him, Alex shifts uncomfortably. “You guys aren’t going to have makeup sex now, right? Because, for once, I’m not up for the whole voyeur thing. Driving an unconscious girl home isn’t the turn on it used to be.”
Sam ignores him and smoothes the shorter wisps of my hair away from my face. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit.”
“I love you anyway.”
He chuckles and gets to his feet. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re the stupid one, then. Don’t wise up, though, because I love you, too.”
“Feel better,” Alex says, tweaking one of my bare feet. “And I still mean what I said about calling me, regardless of what Captain Possessive thinks.”
Watching them file out of my bedroom, I can’t help but smile. Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe fighting is exactly what Sam and James needed.
I fall asleep before the front door clicks shut.