Fourteen
I can’t face him.
I can’t face either of them.
What have I done?
After I was done assuring Greg I was fine, I ran back to the house and hid in my room. Samuel, of course, wasn’t anywhere to be found, and I spent another lonely night in my bed alone. But for once, I didn’t mind.
It’s now after midday and I have no intention of leaving my room—ever. I’ve used the time to catch up on the real world as Kellie’s comments last night had me thinking about how much I miss work. Now that Samuel has made his feelings perfectly clear, I guess there is no reason for me to stay. I could go over to Syria like I planned and lend a hand to people who actually need and want my help.
Groaning, I slam my laptop shut, as I’m in no frame of mind to be helping anyone out. I’m the one who needs assistance at the moment, but I have no one I can ask.
I certainly can’t talk to Piper or my parents about this, as I’m so ashamed by my actions. I don’t want anyone to know what I’ve done. The person who I would usually go to in times of crisis is Saxon, but for obvious reasons, that option is totally off the table.
I don’t know what I’m going to do.
A soft knock on my bedroom door has me falling back onto my bed and covering my face with a pillow. I know who’s there. Samuel would have zero need to come see me and Piper is at work. When the knock sounds again, I reach for another pillow.
I vaguely hear the door whining open, revealing that I can’t hide forever. But I can try. As I blindly reach for another pillow, warm fingers gently clasp around my wrist to stop my hunt. I squash down the happy feelings of him being in my room, touching me.
“Are you playing hide and seek? ’Cause if you are, you really need to find a better hiding spot.” Saxon’s voice is muffled, but it still sends a shiver down my spine.
Fingers walk down my arm, leaving a blaze of goose bumps in its wake. I don’t bother trying to mask my response to him because my body is a complete traitor. Gently coaxing me to let go of pillow number one, I oblige, as I’m finding it hard to breathe in my cushioned cage. Pillow number two is a harder battle because I know once it’s removed, I’ll have no other choice but to face my infidelity.
Saxon doesn’t give up and finally, I give in, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut. I can’t face him. Not yet.
“Lucy, please look at me.”
“No, I can’t,” I reply, red-faced.
He sighs, a sound of frustration. “So you’re going to keep your eyes closed every time I walk into a room?”
He’s right. I’m being absurd.
With a slow, measured speed, I open my eyes. They land on Saxon as he stands by the bed. His arms are crossed, but he doesn’t look mad.
“Hey.”
Sitting up, I brush the matted hair from my brow. “Hey.”
This is so incredibly uncomfortable and I hate it. We never used to have any uncomfortable silences, but that was before I threw myself into his arms like the adulterating whore that I am.
My face obviously betrays my thoughts. “Lucy, stop it,” Saxon says, sitting beside me.
I shift away, afraid of getting too close. I can’t look at him. I lower my eyes, scared of what happens when I gather my wits and face him.
“Lucy, about last night…” His pause makes me groan.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, too bad, because I do.”
His stubbornness is what I need and I angrily raise my eyes, only wishing I didn’t as I zone in on his bowed upper lip—lips that I kissed, and liked kissing very much.
“Ugh!” I slap my hands over my face. I really am not doing myself any favors.
He chuckles. “Seeing as you can’t look at me, I’ll do the talking. We kissed, Lucy, that’s it. We didn’t break any laws.”
“Are you serious?” I cry, unshielding my face. “I broke about five hundred laws. The most important law was to remain faithful to my future husband!”
His grins, a telltale sign that he’s pulling my leg. “Now that you’re actually looking at me, can we talk?”
I nod because he’s right. We need to talk about this as I like looking at him. Again, not doing myself any favors.
“I’m not going to tell anyone about what happened, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread, I shake my head. “That’s the least of my concerns. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“I know, but it did.”
Silence.
“I did mean it when I said we can pretend that tomorrow doesn’t exist.”
If only it were that simple. “I can’t pretend. I know what I did. How can I live with myself? I cheated on my fiancé who has amnesia with his identical twin brother. If that’s not an episode for Jerry Springer then I don’t know what it is.”
He smirks. I’m glad he’s finding my dilemma amusing. “Look, you’re under a lot of stress, Samuel is being a complete asshole to you, and not to mention, you hit your head. One can’t blame you for doing something out of character. We all make mistakes. You were vulnerable.”
But that’s the problem. As I sit here, listening to Saxon make excuses for my epic sluttiness, I don’t see what we did as a mistake. Yes, we shouldn’t have kissed, I acknowledge that, but the act within itself, the kiss, it wasn’t a mistake. It certainly didn’t feel like one. It felt perfect.
This scenario, however, is not. “Friends kiss, it’s no big deal. Anyway, I was drunk…” He continues talking but I don’t listen to a single word he says because my head begins reeling. He was drunk? Since when? I didn’t think he was intoxicated. He only had three beers at dinner.
Is he really disregarding our kiss? He’s not playing the ‘I was drunk and you were concussed’ card, is he?
It appears that he is. “Neither of us was in the right frame of mind. You’re right, it shouldn’t have happened.”
Saxon is giving me a get out of jail for free card and all I want to do is rip it up in his face. Wasn’t the kiss any good? Is that why he can pretend it never happened? From my end, it was unbelievable, but Saxon obviously doesn’t agree.
“I like being your friend, Lucy, and I wouldn’t want a little thing like a kiss to ruin that friendship.”
He needs to stop talking.
“Are you angry at me?” he asks, while I sit, grinding my teeth.
Am I?
The way he’s discounting what happened between us hurts. It also pisses me off. I’m a melting pot of emotion right now. I should be relieved that things can go back to “normal” between us, but I’m not. But I also don’t want to lose Saxon as a friend.
“You don’t want to be friends anymore?” The sadness breaks my heart.
“Of course I do,” I reply, leaning out to touch his forearm, finally speaking. “I just…don’t want things to be weird between us.”
“Neither do I.” He looks down at my fingers caressing his arm. I quickly snatch my hand away.
“I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to Sam, but I don’t think I can do this without you. So if pretending is the lesser of two evils then…okay.” I feel like I’ve gotten off scot-free. I deserve some kind of punishment for my crimes. But all I get is Saxon’s hand slipping into mine. “I’m an awful person, Saxon. I don’t deserve your friendship. I deserve to be treated like the cheating tramp that I am. Sam hasn’t even been home a week! I’m atrocious.” I’ll carry this guilt around with me for as long as I live.
“Hey, don’t talk like that.” He squeezes my fingers. “A week in this house feels like a hundred years. Not to mention, a lot has happened before this week. Samuel isn’t who he once was. He hasn’t exactly been Mr. Prince Charming since he woke. And besides, it was just a kiss. One…simple…kiss.”
The pause between each heated word has every nerve in my body standing to attention. I can feel that familiar fire building in my body. I need to stop it. Right now. Yes, he’s absolutely correct. Being in this house feels like a time warp, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.
“Yeah, one kiss. One that’ll never happen again.” I can taste the regret the moment I say those words.
Saxon pulls in his lips and attempts a smile. “That’s right, and under normal circumstances, if Sam was Sam, you wouldn’t have kissed me, right?”
I freeze and my cheeks instantly heat. Why can’t I answer with conviction?
As he watches me, the perplexity etching his brow, I remember what it felt like to be in his arms. How safe and at home I felt. I used to feel that way with Sam. Would I feel that way now? If none of this had happened, would I have responded to Saxon the way that I have?
I know the answer is no.
I don’t need to answer his question, as my silence fills in the blanks.
“See, it was just a misunderstanding. Let’s forget it happened.” His words don’t reflect the deflated look on his face. But I don’t press. I squash down my disappointment to him referring to our kiss so flippantly because it’s the right thing to do.
“Did you want to come into town with me? I noticed you’re running low on a few things. I’m not sure what you feed that goat, but she’s demanding more of it.”
I smile, happy that he’s making jokes.
“Sure. We need a ton of stuff, so we can take the pickup. I guess I should also think about getting a few things for this stupid party Piper insists we throw.”
Saxon chuckles when my response to the party I don’t want to host can be clearly seen on my face. “It might be good to try and be normal for a night,” he suggests. “Although, I don’t know how normal it’ll be with the number of people Piper intends to invite.”
I shake my head, not even bothering to ask who’s on the guest list.
“I’ll be out in a minute. Let me attempt to resemble the living,” I say, tongue in cheek.
Saxon nods and stands. He looks down at me for a moment, a look of regret swarming around him. It’s gone a second later.
Once the door closes behind him, I exhale loudly, somehow feeling more miserable than before. I should be relieved that things with Saxon have been somewhat resolved, but I’m not. And I don’t know why.
* * * * *
“I don’t think we can fit any more in here,” Saxon says, tossing the last bag of feed into the truck bed. He’s right. The Chevy pickup is overloaded with supplies.
I didn’t realize how much stuff we needed until I made a list of things we were running low on. Usually, Samuel would be the one taking care of what’s needed, but due to obvious reasons that won’t be happening any time soon and besides, I have no idea where he is.
He’s MIA—again. He seems to be making a habit of it and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s packed up and gone to live with his parents.
Shaking those thoughts away, I focus on the task at hand. “How much do I owe you, Billy?”
Billy Campeer, the county’s most trusted supplier, shakes his head. “I’ll just put it on ya tab, Lucy,” he says with his drawn out Texan accent. “There’s no rush, ya hear? Y’all just focus of gettin’ ya boy fixed up.”
I nod, wishing it was that simple. “Thank you, Billy. I’ll let Samuel know you say hi.” He nods, giving Saxon a wave goodbye.
Saxon is tying down the bags with rope, looking completely at ease as he does so. He really would have been at home on the family farm, but I know his dream is not working alongside his brother and father. He’s living his dream in Oregon.
I know eventually he’ll have to go back, but a part of me is hoping that won’t be any time soon.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, jumping down from the bumper and wiping the sweat from his brow.
“I could eat,” I reply, smiling, as the sound of food has my interested stomach growling in delight.
“Anna’s BBQ is a few blocks from here,” he suggests.
“BBQ sounds great.”
We lock the car and walk down the busy street. It’s actually nice to get out and about, seeing as my home has felt like a prison cell lately. I can’t believe it’s only been a few days. It feels like months. The thought has me wondering what it will actually feel like in three months’ time. I really could do with a crystal ball.
Saxon’s cell chimes and he excuses the interruption before answering. I don’t mean to eavesdrop but its evident the call is work related.
“Just order the usual, Fred.” Pause. “I don’t know when. I understand that, but it’s complicated.”
No guessing what or whom is complicated.
The phone call lasts for a minute, with Saxon hanging up with a huff. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.” Waiting a moment, I sheepishly ask, “Everything okay back home?” I see no point pretending I didn’t hear his exchange.
“Yes, fine.”
His short response isn’t convincing. As much as I hate to say it, I know this is the right thing to do. “If you need to go back, Saxon…I understand. I don’t expect you to stay here. I’ve already gatecrashed your life. I don’t want to jeopardize your business as well.”
“You’re not.”
As I attempt to protest, he stops walking and grabs my wrist. “I’m where I’m meant to be, okay?” When I don’t respond, he rubs his thumb over my mounting pulse. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I reply, a sense of relief overtaking me.
Before I can scold my selfishness, a familiar voice greets us. “Hello, you two.” Saxon instantly releases me.
Sophia stands before us, looking relaxed in blue jeans, a peach silk camisole, and ballet flats. Her good looks really make me feel like the ugly duckling, especially when I see Saxon smile broadly.
“Afternoon, Sophia. What are you doing here?”
“It’s my day off and I wanted to visit Green Leaf Nurseries. My roses are looking a little worse for wear. Well, actually,” she backtracks, “I’m pretty sure I killed them with my nonexistent gardening skills.”
Saxon laughs. “Maybe it’s best you stick to something less delicate. Like a cactus.”
Sophia grins. “I think you may be right.”
She’s making no secret of the fact she’s flirting with Saxon, and I don’t know if my little talk has opened his eyes to it because it appears he’s flirting back, which is perfectly normal. They’re both single. Not to mention gorgeous.
I’m suddenly struck with an idea. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
She shrugs. “Nothing really.”
“Would you like to come to a party at my house? I understand it may be a little weird, considering you’re Samuel’s doctor, but my best friend will probably invite every man and their dog, so odds are you won’t even see Sam.”
She looks at Saxon, who is looking down at me, puzzled.
Yes, it’s extremely weird that I’m setting him up with the gorgeous doctor, considering we kissed not even twenty-four hours ago. But this is what friends do. We both agreed to forget it and what better way for that to happen than for Saxon to be paired up with someone like Sophia. She matches him in all aspects. It’s a match made in heaven.
I ignore the pang of jealousy when she says yes. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. Thank you for the invite. I look forward to it.” She smiles at Saxon, who returns the gesture half-heartedly.
“Well, I better go salvage those plants,” she says, picking up on the sudden weird vibe Saxon is throwing out.
“Maybe try some compost or peat moss,” I suggest. “It might help.” She thanks me for the tip and bids us both farewell.
Saxon remains quiet, guarding his thoughts.
“So, looks like we better stock up on beer,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
He replies with a stiff, upper lip smile.
* * * * *
I had a side order of awkward with lunch.
Saxon is angry at me, and I’m pretty certain it’s got to do with the fact I invited Sophia over on Saturday. I thought he’d be happy, as he wasn’t exactly recoiling in disgust when she was flirting with him.
This is exactly the type of awkward I wanted to avoid. I have no one to blame but myself.
“I’m going to call my mom. I should check in with her,” I call out to Saxon, who is tossing bags of feed from the truck.
He replies with a nod.
As I drag my feet up the porch steps, I sigh at the predicament I find myself in. My life as I know it officially sucks. I thought I could have a do-over for my sins, but I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. But I don’t deserve easy.
What I did to Samuel was unforgivable. I deserve every ounce of grief I feel. I also should have kept my nose out of Saxon’s personal life because he clearly doesn’t appreciate me playing cupid.
Feeling awfully sorry for myself, I open my bedroom door, deciding to keep out of Saxon’s way for the rest of the afternoon. However, I yelp when I bump into Samuel. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a black and white checkered shirt. His hair is wet and simply styled, but the heavy handed cologne reveals he’s dressed to impress.
“I’m going out,” he says, reaching for this wallet off the dresser.
That’s it? No explanation to where he’s going or who he’s going with.
“Okay. What time will you be back?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound like a nag.
“I don’t know,” he says dismissively, patting down his pockets to ensure he’s got everything he needs.
His offhand attitude tips me over the edge. I’ve had enough. “Sam, this has got to stop. Your love-hate attitude is beyond confusing. Stop treating me like the enemy. I’m only trying to help you.”
My words appear to fuel an out of control fire. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but I don’t want your help!” I recoil when he yells the word help.
“Sam…”
But he doesn’t want to talk. “For the love of the god, Lucy, just shut up,” he groans. “Your voice has got to be one of the most annoying sounds in the world. Aren’t you tired of hearing yourself complain? I know I am.”
The stress of the past few weeks, not to mention the past twenty-four hours, suddenly explodes out of me and I decide now is a good time to tell Sam how I feel. Sophia’s words of wisdom can bite me. “You owe me like a hundred apologies! I’ve tried to be accepting. I’ve allowed you to lash out, but enough is enough! You can’t treat me this way.” I shove at his chest, he stumbles backwards, stunned. “I’m not your punching bag and your mood swings are giving me whiplash. You’re a mean, selfish asshole, Samuel, and if this is the new you, then I want nothing to do with you!” I take a deep breath, my purge making me feel somehow worse.
He stands in the middle of the room, eyeing me. Maybe lashing out wasn’t such a bad idea. I’ve tried to be understanding and to stay composed, but I can’t do this anymore. Each dismissal is stripping away any shred of hope I have left.
We stand staring at one another, locked in a standoff. Just when I think I’ve gotten through to him, he tears down my optimism by being the cynical bastard he’s become.
The room is filled with slow, loud clapping, as Sam sarcastically applauds my attempts to have him see how his behavior is hurting me. “Finally, we agree on something.” I shake my head, not understanding. He happily clarifies, “I want nothing to do with you, either.”
Tears fill my eyes, my heart breaking all over again. “Why are you being so mean? What have I done to you?”
“I’m not being mean. This is me,” he affirms, jabbing his thumb into his chest. “Get used to it.”
I clasp onto his wrist, shaking my head. “No, this isn’t you.”
“Yes, it is,” he snarls, yanking his arm out from my desperate grip. “Forget the Samuel you thought you knew because that person is dead.”
“No,” I whisper, tears spilling down my cheeks. “That’s not true. I l-love you.”
“You’re pathetic,” he cruelly spits, marching forward and backing me up until I slam into the door. “You’re in love with a ghost! The sooner you get that through that thick head of yours, the better it’ll be for the both of us.”
I press my palms flat to the wood grain, turning my cheek, enraged. But I withhold my anger. “I’ll never give up on you, Sam. No matter how hard you push, I’ll push back twice as hard. I wasn’t raised a quitter. You’re still the same man who proposed to me, who loved me more than life itself. You’re just lost in...”
But he doesn’t let me finish. “Are you even listening to yourself? Lost? I’m not fucking lost. You’re the one who’s lost in a fantasyland.” He grabs my left wrist and waves my floppy hand in front of my face. “Take this off. It was my grandmother’s, not yours,” he says, referring to my engagement ring. “This is embarrassing because I will never marry you.”
“What? No,” I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut.
He drops my arm, like touching me will pollute him somehow. “Get out of my way. I’m done with this conversation.”
I stagger to the side, unsure if my legs will hold me up. He storms past me, uncaring that I’m hurt beyond belief. But that hurt quickly transforms into utter rage. I’m done being treated like dirt. I was done being treated that way when I stopped being M.
Memories of my childhood come roaring to the surface and I visit a very dark place. A place I’ve kept locked away for years. My legs pound down the corridor as I chase after Sam, sniffing back my tears. He quickly turns, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“How dare you!” I slap him so hard across the cheek, I’m almost certain I can hear his teeth rattle in his mouth. The sound is satisfying. “You know what? If it’s so bad being here, then you can leave!” I point to the door. “You don’t want to be here, and honestly, I don’t want you here if you’re going to act this way. Saxon was right about you.”
His eyes narrow into slits as he rubs his reddening cheek. “I bet Saxon just loves being the good guy. It’s a nice change from being a screw up.”
“He is not a screw up. You take that back!” I’m quick to jump to his defense, which has Sam’s mouth parting in insight.
“It is true,” he ambiguously reveals. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“What are you talking about? Dreaming about what?”
Before he has a chance to answer my questions, Saxon barges through the front door, his eyes darting between Sam and I. Sam’s mouth tips up into a secretive smile, one I’m not privy to.
“What’s going on here?” Saxon doesn’t conceal his rage. “Well?” he presses when we remain mute.
“I’m going out,” Sam declares, my speech falling on deaf ears.
“Are you all right, Lucy?” Saxon asks, his eyes searching my face frantically.
I nod unconvincingly. “What did you say to her?” he asks, glaring at Samuel.
Sam raises his hands in mock surrender. “She’s the one who did all the talking.” Why do I feel like there is a hidden message behind his words? “Don’t wait up,” Sam mocks, pushing past Saxon’s unmoving frame.
“Sam, if you walk out that door…don’t bother coming back.” I can’t believe I’m giving him an ultimatum because I know which path he’ll choose.
When he stops dead in his tracks however, a breath hitches in my throat. Has he changed this mind?
Seconds feel like minutes as I anxiously wait for his reply.
With his back turned, he cruelly says, “Well, in that case…give Saxon your ring. I’ll make sure Mom gets it.” And with that he slams the door shut behind him.
“Fuck you, too!” No goodbye. I’m sorry. Not even a, thanks for the memories, not that he remembers me.
Saxon is by my side in two huge strides. When I peer up at him and see that his eyes are no longer filled with annoyance, a tear spills down my cheek. His face contorts in pain before he wipes it away with this thumb.
“What h-have I-I done?” I manage to choke out, the consequences of my actions hitting home. “I hate him!”
“No, you don’t. Breathe, Lucy. It’s just a bad day. Not a bad life.”
“It feels like I’m having a lot of bad days lately.” I sniff, biting my lip to stop the tears.
He sighs, his fists clenched by his sides. “We’re going out,” he suddenly declares.
“What?”
“You heard me. We’re going to forget this bad day and the ones before it ever existed.”
“The only way that’ll happen is if copious amounts of alcohol are consumed.”
Moving closer, he hesitantly brushes back a stray strand of hair which drapes across my brow. The contact feels good, comforting.
When the engine of my Jeep roars to life, Saxon smiles. “I’ll drive.”