FRESH FROM A shower where Sam had used his fingers to give me earth-shaking orgasm number two, I watched him, wrapped in only a towel, smoking on my balcony. He was so obviously freezing his ass off, but it was a glorious sight. I hated that he was a smoker—but, God, he looked sexy as he did it.
It was after three a.m. when my phone started ringing on my nightstand. It was Henry, and while it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to drunk dial, it still worried me that he’d call so late.
I snatched it up immediately. “Hello?”
“Tell me he’s lying?”
“What?”
“Please God, Levee. Tell me he’s full of shit and you aren’t seriously trying to kill yourself.”
I froze. “What are you talking about? Who?”
“Whoever that guy is you’re sleeping with!” he yelled before getting himself back in check. “He told Devon you go up to that bridge every night to jump. Damn it, Levee, what the hell are you thinking?”
My heart began to race as the blood drained from my face. “It’s not. I mean… I’m… I don’t….” I stumbled over my words as my eyes lifted to Sam on the other side of the glass.
“Stewart is losing his fucking mind right now that Devon was just this guy’s first stop before heading to the press.”
Oh God.
“Just tell me this is some kind of rumor.”
As if he could sense my distress, Sam turned to face me. His golden eyes locked with mine, immediate concern painted his face.
“What?” he mouthed.
I couldn’t reply.
Not to Sam.
Not to Henry.
Not even to myself.
It wasn’t true.
It also wasn’t a lie.
“Oh God,” Henry gasped when my silence told him more than my words ever could.
Sam regarded me warily for several seconds before he dropped his cigarette and headed my way.
My world began to move in slow motion even as my mind frantically swirled.
He told Devon.
Betrayal chilled my veins, sending a shiver down my back.
“Levee?” Henry said, reminding me that I still had the phone to my ear.
“Yeah,” I whispered absently, my eyes glued to Sam as he slid the balcony door open. A gust of wind blew the curtains in the air as he entered.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a half hour, okay? Stay put. We’ll figure this out.”
“I’m…really… I’m….umm….” My chin quivered as Sam stopped in front of me and tilted his head in a silent question. “I’m fine,” I finished. A tear escaped my eye as Sam physically flinched from the word, immediately folding me into his arms.
“What’s going on?” he questioned softly.
Why would he do this to me?
“I’ll be there in a half hour,” Henry repeated. “Devon’s on his way now. Hang tight.”
But I couldn’t do that at all. The man who had been the only thing grounding me for the last week had just sold me out. The terrifying free fall rushed up at me from the ground, all but swallowing me even as I stood wrapped in his safe arms.
He wouldn’t really tell anyone else… Would he?
If word got out that I was some sort of suicidal basket case, there was no way they’d let me help out at the hospitals anymore.
My pulse raced, and my hands got clammy.
I wouldn’t let him take that from me—from them.
My ears pounded, leaving me unable to make out the words Sam was repeating into my hair. I wasn’t sure if they were questions or soothing sentiments; it just broke my heart that he was uttering them.
He was the bandage—and, now, the wound.
Dropping my phone, I stepped out of his reach. After plucking his jeans off the floor, I threw them at him. “Get out.”
His head snapped back. “What?”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
He put his hands on his hips, notably confused. “Excuse me?”
“Get out!” I screamed so loud that it echoed off the glass.
He didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled his jeans on and then chewed on his bottom lip as his eyes flashed between mine, searching for some sort of answer. “Who was on the phone, Levee?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Is he jealous?
I was about to become front-page news and he was jealous?
This is not happening.
It really fucking was.
And, for that alone, I got pissed.
Really pissed.
“I won’t let you do this to me. Your word means nothing against mine. You have no proof.” I snatched the robe off the back of my door and wrapped it tight as if it could magically keep me from falling apart.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He tugged his shirt on.
“I will not let you ruin me because of some misplaced savior complex. I don’t need you, Sam. So do me a fucking favor and keep your mouth shut about shit you don’t know anything about.”
“I’m so lost right now.” He threw his arms out to his sides.
“You told Devon I was planning to jump off the bridge!”
His shoulders sagged in visible relief. “Well…yeah. Someone needed to know. I’m not going to just stand by while you kill yourself,” he scoffed as if I were insane.
“I’m not going to kill myself!” I shrieked then began to pace around the room.
It was almost comical.
I was hurt
And pissed.
And floundering even more than ever before.
But Sam looked like he had just saved a litter of puppies from a burning building.
“Well, no. Not anymore you’re not.” He smiled proudly.
“Oh my God!” I threw my hands up in frustration. “You have mental issues.” I should have looked up. I didn’t. I kept pacing. “You seem to be so fucking hell-bent on saving me, but what about you?” I should have shut up. I didn’t. I kept ranting. “You were planning to jump off that bridge too, Sam. Maybe I should run to your employees and share that little secret. But no, I wouldn’t do that. Why? Because I’m a decent human being who respects your privacy. Congratulations, Sam. I didn’t jump, but when this little secret trickles down shit creek, I’ll wish I had.”
When I finally—fucking finally—looked up, Sam was gone. He was still standing in the room, but he’d left me all the same. His face was pale, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
“Listen up, princess,” he snarled. It wasn’t a term of endearment that time. It was an insult that hurt far worse than any other name he possibly could have called me.
I didn’t even have enough time to flinch from his verbal blow before he continued.
“Before you go around slinging insults from inside your glass mansion, you might want all the facts. Four months ago, my mentally ill sister went out for a stroll on the bridge. Two days later, they recovered her body from the bay.”
My hand flew up, covering my mouth as acrid guilt settled in my stomach.
“The last conversation I ever had with her was that morning when she adamantly told me she was fine.” He spat the word then cracked his neck. “She wasn’t. And neither are you. Levee, I never wanted to die. I go up to that bridge because I want Anne to come back.”
My vision swam. “Oh God.”
“Maybe you were never going to jump, but you were up on that bridge for a reason. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. But I won’t apologize for telling Devon. I’ll gladly leave now, but one day, when I see your face again, it’s not going to be on the news because they found your body washed up on the shores of the bay. You’re fucking welcome.” After snatching his shoes off the ground, he stormed out of my room.
“Sam, wait!” I followed after him, catching up just as he got to the front door—a cigarette already dangling from his lips.
“Don’t,” he snapped. “I can’t deal with this. You’re not at all who I thought you were.”
“Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I—”
“Or maybe you’re exactly who I thought you’d be.” He lifted his hands, motioning around my lush foyer.
That hurt. A lot.
But not as much as the idea of losing him.
“I’m sorry, please—”
The door slammed before I could even finish the apology.
“Wait!” I yanked the door open, but a sleepy Devon stood on the other side. “Move!” I tried to shove him out of the way.
But he only shook his head and backed me into the house. “Levee, stop. I had Carter take him home.”
“You did what?” I screeched, rushing back to the door just in time to see the taillights disappearing.
“You have bigger shit to deal with than that jackass.”
Gritting my teeth, I stalked in his direction. “You’re fired.”
“Oh please. I have a good mind to quit after the shit I found out you’ve been hiding from me,” he bit right back.
“I wasn’t going to jump!” I yelled for what felt like the millionth time, but when it cleared my lips, I realized it was the best lie I’d ever told.
Even I believed it.
Sam hadn’t though.
Deep down, I’d seriously considered it. More times than I should have.
Daily.
My legs began to tremble, but they never even had a chance to give out before I was caught by Devon’s embrace.
“Shh. I gotcha,” he whispered into my hair. “Always, Levee.”
“I, um… I think… I need”—Sam—“help.”
“Then we’ll get it.”
Shit.