Three months later
I STARED DOWN at Sam on the hospital gurney. His hair was covered by a funny looking cap and his eyes were already glazed over from the anesthesia drip. I should’ve laughed at the goofy sight of him, but there was not even a hint of humor in the way my heart drummed with fear.
“I finally got you. You better not leave me.” Tears sprang from my eyes the way they had earlier when they rolled Mom off into her operating room. The nurse had to pry our hands apart. This nurse would have to tackle me in order to get me away from Sam.
“Babe, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“You don’t know that.” The words caught in my throat as I realized how negative they sounded.
My best friend—the love of my life—was giving my mother a kidney, and instead of wishing him well, thanking him, and promising him that everything would be okay, here I was thinking the worst. And I was a blubbering mess.
Compose yourself, you fool. Give him a reason to get through this surgery and come back to you. Sniffling away an impending sob, I leaned down and kissed Sam on the mouth.
“I love you, you know that, right?” I said.
“I know it now.” He smiled.
The last three months together were better than I could’ve ever expected. There was no awkward beginning stage to our relationship because we knew each other inside out and upside down. Falling for Sam proved easy because I already loved him. I’d always loved him. I guess my stubborn heart just didn’t know how much, but it was all caught up now.
Shortly after the altercation with Bryce, Doctor Bronson got Mom back to a point where she was healthy enough to await the transplant at home. Having her back gave Sam and me the chance to spend some much-needed time with her and his mom, Jean, who returned from Florida earlier than expected. One could say the way she found out about Sam and me was rather . . . eye-opening, but I liked to call it plain old mortifying.
That didn’t stop us, though. Sam had kept his hands to himself for a very long time. Now there was no reason. And, boy, was he making up for lost time. We both were. I couldn’t get enough and I always wanted more. I had some experience in my past relationships with Hunter and Bryce, but I was certain there was no love as intense as Sam’s.
“Last night was incredible, by the way.” Sam snuck a hand behind me to pinch my butt.
I gasped and then giggled as I remembered the stark difference between making love to Sam and being fucked by him. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Mmm hmm,” he hummed.
I looked around the room to make sure no one was listening or watching and then bent to get closer. “Think of that and remember there’s so much more to come . . . and it’ll have to hold you over until you’ve recovered.”
“Ugh,” he groaned. “Don’t remind me. That’ll be the worst part.”
“What if I promise to take care of you . . . naked?”
“London, you’re supposed to be helping. I’m pretty sure the anesthesia is stopping me from getting hard, but . . . I don’t know, maybe it isn’t.” He looked down at his lap to test his theory at the exact same time the nursing team approached to tell us they were ready for him.
I started to cry again as I held on to his hand, salty tears running down my face and leaking onto his. You better be okay. We’ve only just begun and we still have so much to do . . . together. God, please keep him safe and bring him back to me.
I kept my prayers and fears to myself and whispered the words that mattered most, “I love you, Sam.”
“I love you more, London.”
I was able to leave him with one more kiss, one more smile, one more affirmation of my love before they rolled him into surgery and left me to wait, scared out of my mind.
Jean joined me in a vestibule set aside for people like us—worried and waiting. We filled the agonizing minutes with positive encouragement and hopeful chatter about my future with Sam. After an hour or so, we both turned quiet and I managed to nod off in an uncomfortable upright position.
When I woke from the buzzing of my phone, I was torn from a dream in which Sam and I were walking on the beach—our beach. He was barefoot and devastatingly handsome in a linen suit. I wore white. My eyes were forced open before I could get to the good part I saw coming. Gleaming sun and blue skies for miles were replaced by bright florescent lighting and chipping paint. Damn whoever was interrupting this beautiful fantasy. I had every right to hit decline and send to voicemail, but when I saw the name flashing across the screen, there was no way I could ignore it.
Memphis.
“Impeccable timing.” I mumbled to myself before answering it. “Hello?”
“London! Thank God I got you. Where are you?”
Is he serious? Like no time had passed. Like all of us hadn’t been trying to reach him for months on end. I wanted to hang up, but more than that, I wanted him to know what a fuck-up he was.
“I’m at the hospital, Memphis. Waiting for our mother—and Sam—to come out of surgery. He’s giving her one of his kidneys as we speak. I kind of have my hands full right now—not to mention my heart—so what’s up, huh? What do you want? Why are you calling me now?”
I could hear movement, the phone shifting from one hand to another, his hands fumbling to hold it. “Shit! I didn’t realize that was today.” His voice was muffled as he cursed.
I sprang from my chair and walked to the other side of the room so as not to disturb Jean, who was still asleep.
I was so angry I could have killed him had he been in front of me. “Are you telling me you knew this was happening and you still didn’t reach out? You are such a piece of shit, Memphis! We needed you and you ignored us. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“London, please stop. You need to listen to me.”
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it as if he’d just spoken a foreign language. The only thing stopping me from ending the call and blocking the damn number was utter curiosity. Why now? Why was he calling after all this time if not to express concern for our mother?
When I brought the phone back to my ear, Memphis was frantic on the other end. “Hello? London? Are you there? I think I lost her, man. What should we do? Maybe you should try calling her.”
There was someone else in the background. The voice was familiar but too distant and muffled to make out. This entire call was getting more confusing by the second.
“I’m here,” I finally said. “Who’re you talking to, Memphis? What’s going on?”
He expelled a long sigh of relief. “I know this is a bad time. I’m so sorry I didn’t answer you, that I’m not there. I’ll make it up to you, and to Mom, I promise. But-but we need you, London. We’re in a lot of trouble.”
Never mind the desperation in his plea. God knew what kind of trouble he was in to resort to calling me of all people. He said we. Who was he in trouble with? And why did he think they deserved help from me?
“Who’s we, Memphis? Who are you with?”
The line fell silent for so long I wondered if he lost his nerve and hung up. But when he spoke again, the name that fell from his lips caused me to gasp so loudly I woke Jean and almost dropped the phone.
“I’m with Hunter. We’re on our way back to New Bedford. I’ll explain everything when we get there.”
Oh my God. This can’t be real. The room was a fuzzy haze spinning around me, my legs shaky and useless. I held on to the nearest chair to prevent myself from falling, as if that would stop any of this from being true.
As soon as he mentioned Hunter’s involvement, I knew this was no minor inconvenience. This was life or death. Even though Sam helped me bury my past over the course of the last three months, I was a fool to think it would never come back to haunt me.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .