“OKAY. TELL US more. What is going on with you two?”
Turning my back to hide the blush on my cheeks, I sifted through the rack of undergarments in front of me, grabbing a pair of red cotton boy shorts. They were plain, simple—a far cry from the expensive lace and silk Jenny had been admiring. I glanced at them briefly and, deciding I had no use for fancy frills, tossed them into my shopping cart. “There is nothing to tell, really. We’re friends. I enjoy his company. End of story.”
A condescending laugh erupted from my sister’s mouth, and I didn’t have to look at my mother to know she was rolling her eyes at my attempt to be dismissive. Over the last few days, their incessant nagging had increased, wanting all the gritty details of my and Sam’s blossoming friendship. We’d been spending a lot of time together, occasionally grabbing dinner, watching a movie, or meeting for a morning cup of coffee. It was nice, he was nice, and it was such a welcome change to my normal anti-social routine. For those first couple of weeks, we’d been in what seemed like our own little bubble, and I should have known better than to keep it a secret, but the more time we spent together, the harder and harder it became to keep him from them.
I just didn’t understand their curiosity.
Why was it impossible for a guy and girl to be friends and it not automatically mean something more? Why couldn’t you have friendship without intimacy or attraction? Although that wasn’t entirely the case. There was definitely attraction. Sam was handsome. He had a smile that made my stomach dance in knots, and there was a flutter in my chest whenever he was near. He was funny and made me laugh, and our conversations were easy. With that said, it didn’t mean I also wasn’t oblivious to how he’d occasionally look at me, as if he were physically undressing me with his eyes—proof of an underlying intimacy that neither of us made an effort to act upon. Maybe if I’d had a stronger heart, I could explore those feelings, discover what they meant and where they’d lead, but I didn’t.
Not at all.
Picking up the pair of underwear I’d tossed in my cart, Jenny held them up to inspect them. Her nose scrunched in revulsion. “Seriously, Cass.” Disappointment left her on a bored sigh. “When did you start wearing granny panties? You’re twenty-seven not eighty. These are something Mom would wear.”
My mouth fell open, ready to defend myself, when our mother cut in.
“What are you talking about something Mom would wear? I do not wear granny panties. In fact, I just bought a nice tho—”
“Stop. Please stop.” I brought my hands up to cover my ears, cringing at the thought of my mother’s ass being in anything less than a full piece of cotton. “I do not need a mental image of you in a thong.”
“Oh please. You girls weren’t conceived with me wearing granny panties, that’s for sure.”
Sashaying away, our mother left us to our own devices and made her way to the changing room. Jenny glanced over at me, the wrinkles on her nose multiplying in horror. “We didn’t need to know that.”
“No. No, we did not. I think I’m forever scarred by the mental picture of Mom’s ass.”
Jenny chuckled and continued shuffling through the hangers, grabbing herself a handful of sexy lingerie sets and adding them to the cart. “It's okay if you like him.”
Her statement came out of nowhere, and I winced at the uncomfortable pull in my chest. I shook my head in denial. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Jenny asked, pausing her search and pinning me with questioning eyes. “I’m not trying to turn this into something it’s not, Cass. Please believe me when I say I’m not, but you two have been spending a lot of time together lately, and I just think if it’s not like that you need to make sure he’s on the same page. Sam seems like a great guy and an even better friend. I’d hate to see either one of you getting hurt because of some unspoken expectations.”
The truth behind her words caused my stomach to lurch, and I nodded, unsure what to say because it really wasn’t like that.
Or was it?
GRABBING MY BAGS from the passenger side seat, I kicked open my car door and stepped out. A gust of cold air whipped across my face, and I tucked my chin lower into my coat as I hurried to my front door, fumbling with my keys to unlock it.
“Cassi.”
The male voice carrying over my shoulder caused my heart to jump into my throat, and the bags in my hands fell from my grasp, their contents emptying across my porch. I turned around, clutching my chest, as my eyes collided with Sam’s.
“Shit, Sam. You scared me. I didn’t know you were there.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Frowning, he bent down to gather my things from the sidewalk, scooping them up and placing them back into their bags. “I was on my way home from the grocery store, and I saw you pull in. Figured I’d press my luck and stop, see if maybe you were interested in doing dinner and perhaps watching a movie? We don’t have to go out. I grabbed a few new releases from the rental kiosk.”
His voice became a distant sound as the earlier conversation with my sister took front and center, replaying in my head. Reality, as harsh and cruel as it was, crashed like a mountain of bricks around me. I stared at the man at my feet, his brown hair and the equally dark scruff lining his jaw looking almost black in the dark of night, and my heart beat fiercely in my chest.
What were we doing?
What was I doing?
Was I unknowingly leading this man on to think there could ever possibly be more between us? Was I an idiot to think that was even a thought in his mind? More importantly, was I a fool for not wanting to explore whatever this was we had? Up until today, I hadn’t given much thought about any of these things, or at least, I’d tried not to. It was what I enjoyed most about my friendship with Sam. There were no expectations, no need to define us.
We simply were.
Running a hand across my face, I brushed away the flyaway strands of hair blowing wildly with the wind and allowed doubt and fear to rule. My mouth opened to tell him I wasn’t sure dinner was a good idea. Illogical reason hovered on the tip of my tongue, ready to leap off, when my eyes landed on the thin scraps of black lace on the ground—the same scraps an unsuspecting Sam was reaching over to pick up.
Fucking Jenny.
I was going to kill her.
Fire collected in my cheeks, reddening my face and heating my skin, and I immediately sank to my knees, not so gracefully, and snatched up the lingerie before he had a chance.
Sam looked at me, confusion and curiosity narrowing his brows. “You okay?”
Words failed me. Embarrassment stole my thoughts, and I stuttered, trying to search for an explanation as to why I'd suddenly joined him on the ground. I gave up quickly, though, cursing under my breath and shoving the sexy undergarments inside my coat and out of sight.
“Mhm.” I gulped down the nerves rising into my throat and nodded.
His mouth twisted to the side as if he wasn’t convinced, and he straightened himself, taking hold of my hands and bringing me up with him. He didn’t let go. He stood in front of me, the pads of his thumbs making idle circles over the top of my hands. His gaze was concentrated on the movement of his fingers, and the feeling of him on my skin—his soft, gentle strokes—spread through my veins like wildfire.
“So …” His voice was low, unsure, as if he was afraid to ask or afraid of the response he might receive. After a lengthy moment, his lashes swept up, and when they did—when our eyes finally connected—I lost any resolve I might have had at turning down his offer. “What do you say? Dinner and a movie?”
I nodded again, my breath leaving me on a long but silent exhale, and smiled; it was genuine—not at all forced. “Sounds great.”
“All right. Let’s get you inside. It’s cold out here.”
Unlocking the door with Sam in tow behind me, I immediately excused myself to my bedroom to rid myself of the lingerie still hidden inside my coat. “I’ll be right back. I just want to put this stuff away quick and freshen up.”
“Take your time. I’m going to grab the stuff from my car and start dinner.”
“Okay.” We went our separate ways. I slipped into my bedroom, shoving the lingerie into the ottoman at the foot of my bed, and pulled out my phone, shooting Jenny a text.
Seriously?
Jenny: What? What’s wrong?
Oh please. Don’t pretend you don’t know. Sexy lingerie. Really? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
Jenny: Um … wear it?
I didn’t respond, and instead I stood there, silently fuming.
Jenny: Come on, Cass. What’s the big deal? It’s lingerie. Besides, what kind of sister would I be if I allowed our mother to have sexier underwear than you?
Groaning, I tossed my phone on my bed and ducked into the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth and combed my fingers through my hair, grabbing my bottle of perfume and giving myself a few sprays, before returning to the kitchen.
Sam stood at the counter, his hands working with precision as he diced up a plateful of vegetables. He must have heard my footsteps, because the second my soles hit the hardwood floor, he turned to look at me, a mesmerizing smile on his face.
“I hope stir fry is okay. I figured it’s quick and easy.”
I inhaled deeply, the smell of crushed garlic and olive oil sautéing on the stove making my stomach grumble in anticipation. “It’s perfect.”
Crossing the short distance and pulling out a stool, I sat across from him, resting my elbows on the counter and watching as he continued to prep dinner. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had someone other than family cook for me. Adam had lacked any real culinary skills, which meant we ate out more than we ate in.
“You’re pretty good at that.”
A lighthearted chuckle shook his shoulders as he gifted me a lopsided grin. “I’m okay, I guess.” He shrugged, turning around to dump the veggies into the pan on the stove, and moved to wash his hands. “Growing up, I did a lot of cooking at home. My father wasn’t really the most proactive when it came to having dinner on the table.”
I remained silent, and I sensed he knew I had no idea how to respond, because he returned to his seat at the counter and continued to speak.
“After my mom died, I think a part of him died, too. The man I’d grown up knowing with a smile on his face and a gleam in his eyes, he ceased to exist. He became withdrawn, lost in a sea of grief he had no idea how to save himself from.”
A painful knot formed in my throat. “And now?”
Sam shook his head, a new and entirely different sadness in his gaze, and my heart clenched. “He checked out, Cass. Mentally, he checked out, and he’s never checked back in.”
His words hit me in the worst way. They soared through the air, striking my chest as if it were me he was speaking of, and all the wind was knocked out of my lungs. I looked away, trying to catch my breath, and when I’d managed to regain my composure from my momentary lack thereof, I swung my head back around to face him. I needed to say something, but all I could think of as I stared at him were the five words he had spoken to me the day we met in the café.
I even see you, Cassi.
And what did he see when he looked at me? A mirror image of his father? A girl who was lost in her own grief and drowning in sorrow? Because I was. I was, and no matter how badly I wanted to be rescued, I couldn’t find the shore. I was stuck in this vast ocean of guilt and sadness, and all I wanted was for someone to pull me from the water, to bring me back to dry land.
I was in desperate need of solid ground.
The warmth of Sam's hands as they covered mine and the worried sound of his voice dragged me back to the now.
“Are you okay?”
I blinked away the burning sensation in my eyes and pulled in a quick breath. Not really. I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t been okay for a long time.
“I'm sorry.”
I couldn’t be sure why I was apologizing or what I was even apologizing for: his father and that he essentially had to grow up without either of his parents or my silence as my mind processed the realization that I, too, was someone who had—figuratively speaking—checked out.
After Adam passed away, everything I was and the person I had become vanished. I was an empty shell of the person I used to be.
“It's okay. I didn't tell you to have you feeling sorry for me. I just know what it’s like to lose someone—”
“Do you think people can be saved?”
A tiny line creased his forehead. “What?”
“People like your father and me. Do you think we can be saved?”
Sam’s mouth parted before his lips pinched together in thought. He was choosing his words—carefully, meaningfully—making sure they were delivered in their right order. “Cassi, my father … he doesn’t want to be saved.” He dropped his gaze to my hands, squeezing them gently, running his thumbs over my skin.
There was a long pause, one where my heart pounded so hard and fast under my ribs I feared I might slip into cardiac arrest.
Sam lifted his head, catching my eyes. “I guess the bigger question is, do you?”
Did I?
Of course, I wanted to be saved, but it didn’t mean I deserved to be.
A SHAFT OF moonlight filtered through the blinds of my patio doors, slowly pulling me out of my unconscious state. I blinked into the darkness, rubbing at my sleep-ridden eyes as I attempted to orient myself from what had been possibly the best night’s sleep I’d had in the last seventeen months. It took another few seconds until I became fully aware of my surroundings, but when I did, every muscle tensed. Gone was the initial peacefulness, the surprising comfort. My heart rate increased, and my pulse quickened as the warm body I was pressed firmly against shifted beneath me.
“Shit.” The curse flew from my mouth on a hissed whisper, and I squeezed my eyes shut, my mind whirling with confusion, trying to replay the last few hours in my head.
How did we end up like this?
Recounting the evening and concluding we must have fallen asleep on the couch while watching the last movie, I remained stock-still, afraid any sudden movement would rouse him from his sleep.
What are you doing, Cass? How did you allow this to happen? Why did you allow this to happen? You’re stepping over lines you have no business crossing.
Desperate to remove myself from Sam’s closeness, I gingerly lifted my head in his direction. He was sound asleep—completely oblivious to his one-man audience—and I stole a few moments to drink him in.
Painted in the soft glow of the moon, his face was far more handsome than I’d allowed myself to previously notice. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in shallow waves, and his lashes were thick and full, resting on sculpted cheekbones. My eyes traced the hard lines of his jaw, my fingers twitching with the urge to smooth themselves over the dark bristly stubble, and a flutter of something I couldn’t define landed in the pit of my stomach.
Desire. Want. Need.
Perhaps all three.
Bound by a feeling much stronger than lust, I continued to stare. So long had it been since I’d been this close to a man that my body yearned for attention—his attention. It ached with the need to be on the receiving end of his heated gaze, beneath his skilled but gentle hands.
Stop, Cassi. God, stop. Your heart’s not ready for this. It might never be ready.
Closing my eyes and pushing away the whisper in my head, I sat up, my movements slow and tentative as I finally put some much-needed distance between us. Did I wake him and ask him to go? Or did I allow him to spend the night and continue to act as though nothing was changing between us? Because it was. Everything was changing, whether I wanted to admit it or not.
Confused by my own indecision, I risked another glance at him.
My entire body stilled.
Throughout the night—in the midst of sleeping—the top button of Sam’s shirt had come undone, revealing a sliver of his tanned chest, but more than that, it revealed the start of a red scar which disappeared beneath his dark blue button-down. In the few weeks I’d known him, in all the time we’d spent together, I’d never seen it. Thinking back now, I remembered all the times he’d adjusted his collar and how I’d never paid mind to the habit—never gave it a second thought.
But now … now it was staring me straight in the face, and I couldn’t look away.
Realization slammed into me, its force so strong it stole the oxygen clear out of my lungs. A collection of hot tears lined my tired eyes.
In the back of my mind, I’d always known the heart within Sam’s chest wasn’t his own. Of course not. It was Adam’s. But I’d never allowed myself to dwell on that fact. I couldn’t, because if I had, I’d be reminded of everything I struggled day in and day out to accept. I’d be reminded that I was living my life only half alive—that my forever always was gone.
He was gone.
And I was here, broken and alone.
Adam.
Consumed by the thought of him, I found myself moving again, only this time, I didn’t move away. I moved closer. The overwhelming urge to touch Sam’s chest, to feel the heart beating beneath his ribs was too hard to ignore. Any logical thought, any voice of reason, was cast aside as I timidly reached out. The tips of my fingers grazed the soft cotton material of his shirt, and as my palm flattened, pressing against warm, hard muscle, my breath caught on a gasp, trying to find its escape.
Strong, familiar beats thumped beneath my hand.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Fast and unbidden, tears welled in my eyes. They quickly spilled over, wetting my skin as they raced one after the other down a single watery path. My next breath burst free on a choked sob, and as I cupped my hand over my mouth to stifle the noise, Sam’s eyes flew open.
Dark hazel pools, only half awake but filled with sympathy and understanding, stared at me. Everything in me wanted to tear my gaze away, to remove myself from this awkward and intense situation, but Sam reacted first. Silent and with our eyes held, he took hold of my hand. Tender in their touch, his fingers smoothed over my skin as he curled them around mine and gently guided my palm back to his chest.
As he placed it directly over his heart—over Adam’s heart—the last remaining pieces of my own heart completely shattered.
My chin quivered.
Every inch of me trembled.
The air in my lungs turned to concrete, and the crushing weight made it impossible to breathe. Each breath I took cut deep—a thousand shards of broken glass sliding down my throat, their sharp and jagged edges slicing me open and filling me with a new level of pain. It was raw. It hurt. And I didn’t know how to make it stop.
Oh God, please make it stop. Please make it stop.
Through a window of tears, I looked at Sam, this beautiful man who had come into my life at the cost of losing my forever always, and guilt gutted me. Deep down, I knew Sam wasn’t merely a friend. It was the reason why Jenny's words held such resonation—why I had become so defensive. He was becoming more than that, and it scared the hell out of me. I was terrified I didn’t have it in me to explore what we could be. I was terrified I couldn’t give him any part of my heart because it didn’t belong to me.
It belonged to Adam.
It always had.
Begging the tears to stop and the paralyzing ache to subside, I cried out my apology, unsure who it was intended for: Adam or Sam.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Sam shook his head, silently telling me words were not needed, and without warning or hesitation, he grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me to him. I willingly collapsed into his solid warmth, my entire body shaking and my hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt as the agony poured from every crevice in my fractured heart. There were a million reasons for him to let me go, to push me away and walk out of the front door, but he didn’t. He didn’t because that wasn’t Sam. He willingly accepted every blow I dealt him no matter how painful they were, because unlike me, Sam was strong and capable. He was caring and selfless. He was everything I wanted, everything my broken heart needed, but that was the problem.
I was broken.
I was broken, and he deserved so much more than shattered pieces.
Throughout the night, Sam continued to hold me close, one hand smoothing up and down my back, soothing the release of my emotions, the other lingering on my nape where his fingers drew lazy circles on my skin. He pressed his lips to my forehead, kissing me, more than once. “It’s okay, Cass.” His breath was a warm caress, an unspoken promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Shh … it’s okay.”
I remained as I was, wrapped up in Sam’s supportive arms yet lost in the comforting sound of Adam’s beating heart.
Adam’s heart. Sam’s heart.
How was I ever going to differentiate the two?