Chapter Five

Sam waited for the coffee to be poured, then waited again in line to pay. The whole time, he shot Annie surreptitious glances, stole sneaky little glimpses of her as she sat in a booth across the room.

She looked good, he was happy to see. Much better than three years ago, which wasn’t surprising considering what she’d been going through then… but even if he removed the criteria of dark circles under the eyes, and deep worry lines, and permanent exhaustion and messy hair, Annie still looked light-years better.

She was a bit curvier, more lush and rounded, like she’d taken the time to sit down and have a few decent meals every once in a while. Her hair was cut a bit shorter now, and that brought out a gentle wave that hadn’t been there before. And her eyes – those eyes as deep and blue as the ocean – were calm now, less troubled, more joyous. On the whole, she looked healthier and happier, and Sam believed that when a woman looked like this, so natural and real, she was at her most beautiful.

Or maybe a man is making her look like this, his brain taunted him. Maybe she’s happy because she’s got someone.

Well, OK. If Annie had found someone who was good to her, then Sam would be happy for her. He’d also want to kill the guy.

Time to find out, then.

He brought the coffees over to Annie, and those gorgeous eyes watched his approach. The thing that had always taken him aback about Annie was her sweetness; he supposed that she’d buried it deep for reasons, maybe because she thought that it made her vulnerable. Weak. So she’d perfected her hard bitch persona, erected a tough shell that masked her true nature – one as a surprisingly kind, giving person. Sam had known it the second that he’d seen Annie reach out to Jax that horrible night three years ago, when she’d reached out physically and emotionally, reached past her own fear and anger, reached him in the middle of what was a mother’s worst nightmare.

Sam knew that people revealed true things about themselves in the horror of the E.R. Any strains or tensions between family members exploded, any fault lines cracked fast and hard, any resentments bubbled over and drowned everyone standing in the vicinity. Selfish, small people became more so; generous, loving people did, too. Whatever face Annie showed the world to survive, she’d revealed her real, honest face time and time again when her daughter had been hovering near death.

It was a beautiful, strong, amazing face. It was a face that Sam admired deeply – and wanted to see all the time. He wanted that desperately.

“Thank you,” she said now as he set the cup of coffee in front of her. “I’m so looking forward to enjoying this bad coffee.”

Sam sat, gave her a grin. “I know, right? Enjoy.”

“Oh, I will.” She took a sip, mostly hid her slight grimace at the bitterness. “So… how have you been?”

“Good,” Sam said, relaxing into the seat across from her. “Really busy, with my usual crazy night shift hours, but I like that.”

“Being busy? Or working nights?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I hated the nightshift at the diner,” Annie said. “Worked it for twenty years, and I swear that it made me a nervous wreck.”

“Lots of drunks?”

“Oh, yeah. Drunks, and kids looking for trouble, and shady characters passing drugs under the table in the corner. Prostitutes, too, looking to get warm before having to go back out, and they kinda broke my heart, ‘cause so many of them were so damn young. Kept seeing Sarah when I looked at them, you know? Lots of fights, too, which meant lots of clean-up after. Broken glass all over the damn shop.” She looked over at Sam. “But I imagine it’s way worse in the E.R. at two a.m. on a Saturday.”

“Can be. People drunk and high can be hard to control.”

“No lie. Thank God I don’t have to take every hour that my boss tries to hand me anymore, so I can mostly work days, or even go a few days without hours if nothing’s being handed out but nights. It’s great, after years of taking anything that I could get just to pay the bills.”

“So things are better financially?” Sam asked quietly. He’d never asked of course, never once probed Annie about her bank balance, but he’d known that things were tight back then. “More steady?”

“Yes. Incredibly so.”

“Is it OK if I ask why?”

“Sure,” Annie said, startled. “It’s not like it’s a threat to national security to talk about it.”

“No?”

“No.” There was that smile again, dear sweet God above. “It’s because the kids have become independent. They pay their own way.”

“Both of them?” Sam was stunned. “Noah earns enough off painting to pay for his life?”