MY HEART THUMPED fiercely in my chest as I moved away from the door and pulled the curtain aside on the window, watching as this man—this man who had managed to get me to smile more in a few short hours than I had in the last sixteen months—disappeared from view. Like a top that had lost its balance, I’d fallen onto my side, an unusual feeling churning and twisting my insides. I was unsettled. Confused. It was a feeling I couldn’t shake—one I didn’t even want to begin to analyze.
Keep telling yourself that, Cass.
Sighing, I let the sheer fabric swing into place and convinced myself to take a step back. I shrugged my coat from my shoulders, hanging it on the coat rack beside the door, and then sat on the couch, slumping deep into the cushions.
Flinging my arm over my head, I stared vacantly up at the ceiling, the last three hours replaying on repeat. The urge to get up and return to the door had me fidgeting restlessly, and although my legs were eager and ready to heed that command, I didn’t move. I stayed sitting until the rhythmic sound of rain droplets pattering on the window panes grabbed my attention, and I briefly wondered if Sam had made it home in time to escape the effects of the storm.
I focused my gaze on the set of patio doors located off to my right, the buildup of condensation on the glass blurring the scenery laying just beyond its surface, and I was instantly hit with the memory.
The memory of Adam and me …
I stood in front of the patio doors, watching as the dark clouds released their scattered droplets of rain on the ground. The variance in outside temperature caused a layer of moisture to collect on the inside pane, fogging the glass, and I pressed my finger against it, tracing patterns on the wet surface.
A strong arm circled my waist, and a surprised squeal shot from my throat as I was yanked into a solid chest of warm muscle. Adam pressed his finger to the glass, tracing an “A” on one side of the heart I had just finished creating and a “C” on the other. My heart fluttered beneath my ribs, a goon-like smile drawing across my face at his sweet yet simple gesture. Warm lips grazed the sensitive skin on my neck, right below my ear, and I giggled at the way he nuzzled his face deeper, pulling me even closer.
He laid a tender trail of open-mouthed kisses along my nape, his erection pressing hard into my lower back. “How did I ever get so lucky, huh?”
My smile widened as I twisted in his hold, this time my lips finding his and my arms looping around his neck. “Perhaps it’s not luck as much as it’s fate.”
“Fate?” He leaned in and brushed the tip of his nose along mine at the same time his hands gripped my hips. Lifting me effortlessly—my legs curling around his waist—he crossed the space of our living room and weaved through the boxes we had yet to unpack, heading toward our bedroom. “You sure about that?”
With our lips fused, I nodded, my tongue dipping into the warm recesses of his mouth and tangling with his. Kicking the door open with his foot, he walked the last few feet and tossed me on the bed. Like a predator closing in on its prey, he crawled over me, all broad shoulders and strong arms, and kissed my lips, a cocky smile in place.
“And what makes you think this is fate?”
I flattened my palm on his chest, directly over his heart. “Because some hearts are simply meant to be together, aren’t they?”
The hungry look in his eyes quickened my pulse. I drew in a stiff breath, my chest rising against his, and before I could swallow it down, Adam’s lips were on me. Greedy hands slid under the hem of my shirt. Nimble fingers skimmed across my belly, spreading their warmth over every inch of my skin. A fire stirred low in my stomach, the heat of it igniting the delicious ache rapidly building between my thighs.
Leaning back, Adam reached behind his head and tugged on the collar of his shirt, removing it completely. He flicked open the button on his jeans, letting them and his boxers fall to a pool at his feet.
As he stood in all his naked glory, I drank in every beautiful inch of him, my heart galloping beneath my ribs. Pressing a knee to the mattress, he climbed over me, his palm smoothing up the back of my thigh as he settled between my legs. Resting his forearms on either side of my head, he placed tender kisses from my forehead down to my lips where he stopped.
Dark green eyes held me in their depths as his mouth lingered in agonizing closeness.
I pushed off the bed—my weight supported by my elbows—and attempted to steal another kiss. Adam dodged my movement as a gravelly chuckle erupted from his throat, and my brows narrowed into a deep scowl.
“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “Not until you say it.”
“No way.” My lips twisted to the side as I crossed my arms defiantly across my chest. “I said it first last time.”
Thinking for a moment, he shook his head again. “That didn’t count. You were drunk.”
“Which is all the more reason for it to count.”
“Explain this logic.” Dropping his mouth to my neck, he pressed his lips to my pulse.
I nearly lost my train of thought as he ghosted them down to the hollow of my throat, my next breath punching from my lungs as he caressed me with his tongue. “Because even in my drunken, incoherent state, you know I’m still crazy, madly, deeply in love with you.”
“Say it, Cass,” he growled impatiently, reaching up and slipping the thin straps of my camisole from my shoulders. As he dragged the silky material down, revealing my naked breasts and taut nipples, he wasted no time covering them with his mouth, gently sucking, teasing.
A lust-filled gasp burst from my chest as he nipped at the sensitive buds, taunting me. He knew me well, knew I was on the brink of caving, and if the jerk kept it up, he was going to win.
“Say it, baby.” His warm breath tickled my skin as he spoke against it. “I just want to hear you say it.”
I clamped my jaw shut, determined to be the victor in this battle. And then the dirty player smoothed his hand up my inner thigh, his fingers grazing my center, turning that dull, pulsing ache into a steady throb.
“Damn you, Adam.” My response poured out in a breathy and urgent rush—my need for him evident in my tone. Losing the fight, I surrendered, the words he demanded to hear leaving my mouth on a whimper. “My heart belongs to you. Forever always.”
“Knew that would do it.” A wickedly devilish grin stretched across his face, and before I could say anything else, he slid his fingers beneath the black lacy material of my panties. All my thoughts fled as I became lost to his touch, and as I was pulled into a world of sensation, the only thing I heard were his whispered words.
“And mine to you, Cass. Always forever.”
A crack of thunder jolted me from the memory, and my momentary happiness was replaced with a sadness I didn’t know how to cure. My chest ached, the pain in my heart reminding me forever and always were promises neither of us had the ability to keep. Willing the tears to stay at bay, I forced myself to sit up on the couch and dragged my gaze away from the branches of lightning illuminating the darkened sky.
My cell rang.
It rattled across the glass coffee table, and I leaned forward to pick it up, not bothering to check the caller ID before answering. “Hello.”
“Hey. I was just calling to check on you. Are you okay? Are you home now?”
My face warmed at the sound of Jenny’s voice and her concern for me. Usually the constant phone calls and checking in drove me to partial insanity, but today, for some reason, I didn’t mind the extra attention. “Yeah. I’m okay. I’m home.”
“Oh good. I was worried you got caught in this storm.”
“No. I got home a little while ago. I fell asleep on the couch.”
“Ahh. Okay. So, how did it go?”
“It was good.” My lips slowly spread across my face, an unfamiliar warmth seeping into my veins as I thought of the man with whom I’d spent the better part of my morning. “He was really nice.”
As soon as I’d said the words, I tightened my expression, not wanting to acknowledge the way he’d made me smile and laugh or how incredible it had felt to actually be doing so. When all I’d known for the last sixteen months was pain and heartache, feeling anything else seemed like such an impossible task. But no matter how amazing it felt, how much I wanted to revel in whatever this was, there was a voice whispering to me and telling me this was wrong.
These emotions, these feelings, were wrong.
Sam had Adam’s heart, but he wasn’t Adam. In the short time I’d spent with him, I realized how incredibly different the two of them were even if they had been close in age. Adam was bold and confident. He had direction and drive, dreams he was passionate about, and a strong will to succeed. Sam, he was easygoing and highly perceptive, but underneath his calm and charming exterior was a man who seemed lost, lonely.
“He’s really cute.”
“Jenny.” An immediate frown tugged at my mouth as I scolded her.
“What? I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. He’s just … he wasn't what, or rather whom, I was expecting.”
“And whom were you expecting exactly?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Someone older … wrinklier … someone not as attractive.”
I didn’t argue with her, because if I was being completely honest, Sam was nothing like I’d expected either. Sure, young people faced life-threatening illnesses and diseases as much as everyone else. Nobody was immune, but he was much younger than I’d imagined he would be, and the thought that he had already endured so much in his short life caused my chest to squeeze uncomfortably. It wasn’t fair. Then again, nothing about life was fair, was it?
“Need I remind you, you are happily married?”
“Oh, please.” Jenny chuckled. “Being married doesn't make me suddenly blind. And you can deny it or stay silent all you like, but I know you’re thinking the same. He’s hot. There is nothing wrong with admitting it, Cass. There are beautiful people in this world, and he just so happens to be one of them.”
The warmth that had seeped into my veins a few seconds ago moved, gathering in my cheeks and making them overly hot and flush.
“And his ass, my gosh, did you see his ass? The man’s got buns of steel. Like perfect round globes—”
“Can we not talk about his ass, please?”
“Fine.” She harrumphed. “If you insist. How old is he anyway? Did he tell you?”
I pulled at the pills on the wool blanket draped across my lap. “Uh, yeah. He’s twenty-eight.”
“Crazy. I guessed he was around our age, but it's still shocking. What happened to him that he needed a—”
“Heart transplant?” I finished her sentence, figuring she wouldn’t out of fear of hurting me, and blew out a breath. My stomach bubbled uneasily as I relayed the same information Sam had shared with me.
Jenny gasped through the line, and I mentally pictured her fingers flying to her mouth to stifle the sound. “That's so sad. Does he have anyone? I mean, is he married or have any other family?”
“I don't know. I didn't ask.” I paused, my mind drifting to a few hours ago and the closeness Sam and I had shared as we sat at the small round table. I thought about the way my stomach fluttered as he’d looked at me, as if he’d seen right through me.
I even see you, Cass.
And what could he have possibly seen?
My broken heart and all its shattered pieces?
I shook my head and closed my eyes, attempting to wipe it all away: his handsome smile, the deep, beautiful sound of his laughter, and the strong, masculine scent of his cologne that clouded my senses and did funny things to parts of me I refused to pay mind to.
“He wasn't wearing a ring on his finger, but that doesn't mean he's not engaged or seeing someone. And what does it even matter? We didn't meet to exchange our life details.”
“No. I know. Call it curiosity, I suppose. I mean, aren't you curious?”
Yes.
I swallowed the uninvited word before it jumped off my tongue. “Not really, no.”
Thick silence filled the line, and I had no doubt it was a result of Jenny questioning whether I was being truthful. Thing was, I couldn’t admit to my sister the way Sam had affected me. In fact, I had trouble admitting it to myself, which was why it needed to stay forever unspoken—forever locked away in the far corner of my heart that it had magically reawakened.
“Are you seeing him again?”
Her question struck me still, and a baseball-sized lump lodged itself in my throat. “Why would I?”
“I don’t know.” She was quiet for the length of a few beats. “Maybe because it was nice seeing you socialize again.”
The swelling in my throat doubled; the direction this conversation was heading was one I had no desire to visit.
“It's been so long since—”
“Please don't, Jen. I don't want to have this conversation. Sam is the last person I need to be socializing with, okay? It's too much. This is all too much. He has Adam’s heart. Do you have any idea how incredibly hard that is to rationalize? So, the answer to your question is no, I won't be seeing him again.”
Jenny didn’t argue. Either my words finally resonated or she heard the hurt in my voice.
“Okay, but, Cass?”
“Yeah?”
“I just want to see you happy again. You deserve to be happy.”
That’s what everyone kept telling me—so why was it so difficult for my head and my heart to get the memo?
LYING IN BED with Adam’s pillow nestled in my arms, I attempted to close my eyes and erase the events of the day. I should have been proud of myself: proud that I managed to find the courage to follow Sam out of the coffee shop and listen to what he had to say and to meet the person whose life Adam’s selfless decision had the ability of saving. Knowing a part of Adam lived on in someone else should have brought a sense of comfort, a sense of peace, but as I gripped his pillow tighter and inhaled the faint smell of his cologne, all I felt was sadness. And loneliness. I felt so damn lonely. Tears fell freely down my cheeks, and that numbing ache pulsed painfully in my heart.
My heart.
Adam’s heart.
Sam’s heart.
Rolling over, I swiped my cell from the nightstand beside my bed and hit the unlock button, my eyes wincing as they adjusted to the brightness in the pitch-black room. I clicked open the web browser and my fingers moved of their own accord against the keyboard as they typed out the words “dilated cardiomyopathy.” The need to know more than the few details Sam shared with me that afternoon had me sitting up and resting against my headboard. My eyes scanned the numerous links popping up in the search results, and I clicked the top one, devouring every word. I continued through the list, reading article after article. As I immersed myself in paragraphs full of medical terminology and jargon, my head spun trying to comprehend and make sense of it all.
Closing out of the pages, I switched over to the small blue and white social media icon and stooped to a new level, typing Sam’s name in the “Find Friends” field. My heart skipped a beat as the results loaded, his image the third on the list. A moment’s hesitation had me closing my eyes and breathing slowly to steady the erratic pulse beneath my skin, and before I convinced myself otherwise, talked myself back from the ledge of curiosity, I clicked on his profile.
Fluttering out of control, a wave of butterflies landed in the pit of my stomach. My gaze lingered on his photo—his startling hazel eyes, strong cut jaw, and full sensual lips. I ran the tip of my thumb over the screen and then clicked on a few more pictures, shuffling through the albums that revealed moments of his private life.
Now look who’s doing the stalking, Cassi.
There was an image of him cradling a baby in his arms, and I hated the way my mind immediately wondered if it was his and if the woman who had gifted him something so precious was as much his everything as I was to Adam.
Disappointment panged in my chest, but why?
What had brought on such a visceral emotion?
The pang turned into relief as I read the caption and comments and realized the child belonged to a close friend. Of course. Nothing about Sam had given me the impression he was a father, much less in a relationship.
I swiped across the screen, pausing on the next photo. Sam and a woman. A tall, leggy blonde. His arm was draped around her petite waist and her face was buried in the crook of his neck, a smile I imagined he’d placed there plastered on her lips. She was beautiful in a materialistic kind of way: face full of makeup, designer clothes, bronze skin. They appeared to be happy.
Was he still happy? With her?
Deciding I had done enough perusing of his personal life and feeling much more confident in the idea of letting him walk away earlier, I flicked through to what I promised myself would be the last photo.
My heart stalled. My breath hitched.
Sam stood partially naked at the bow of a boat, a bottle of water clutched in one hand and a fishing pole gripped in the other. His neon green swim trunks rested low on his hips, revealing a smattering of dark hair that trailed from his navel all the way south where it disappeared beneath the waistband.
I gulped down the saliva pooling in my mouth.
I wasn’t a stranger to how perfectly masculine he was after seeing him at the coffee shop with his wide shoulders and strong forearms with sinewy veins that traveled lines over his biceps and crawled beneath the sleeves of his collared shirt. But my God, seeing him like this—all toned and rigid abs, tanned and flawless skin glistening under the sun—my stomach muscles flipped and clenched. Attractive seemed like such an inadequate descriptor.
When I finally peeled my eyes off him, I noticed the group of friends surrounding him and the expression on his face that was anything but authentic. It was an expression that said “I’m alive, I’m here, but I’m not living.”
I recognized it because it was one I wore often.
Beneath his façade of happiness, beneath the breathtaking smile that had my own lips tugging up at the corners, I saw a world of heartache. A life full of guilt and regret and missed opportunities. I saw a man who might not have realized it, but who was in need of just as much saving and healing as I was.
I see you, too, Sam.
Sighing, I re-locked my phone and placed it back on my nightstand, wiggling myself down the mattress until my head rested on my pillow. My eyelids drifted shut, and for the first time in sixteen months, it wasn’t Adam who appeared in my dreams.
It was Sam.