Chapter 6

Sam

“Either can I,” I mutter, shaking my head and choosing to ignore the second part of her declaration. Not sure whether to be happy or angry, I settle somewhere around indifferent. She knew where I was. I wasn’t the one who left. She could have come back any time if she really wanted to.

Okay, maybe more pissed off than indifferent. But in my defence, it’s for good reason.

Ignoring the wounded look in her eyes when I don’t immediately return the sentiment, I grab her hand and steer her toward the nearest coffee stand, ordering her a drink and a donut. A quick look up shows three people from her office pressed to the glass, watching our every move with curiosity. To give us some privacy, I drag her toward the park across the street and settle her onto a bench, watching with frustration while she picks at the damn thing instead of biting into it.

“Sean, what…”

“Eat,” I snap, cutting her off, and she fires a withering look at me that would cut a lesser man in half. She does what she’s told though and takes a proper mouthful, as I lean against the back of the bench and look up at the clear blue sky overhead. It’s a lovely day but my lion hates the city. The noise and the smells. The lack of open spaces. I could be out roaming the mountains, or doing any of a hundred jobs that need doing back at the bar. The drier in the bathroom is broken, and I wanted to build a few new benches to make a beer garden out back.

But here I am. For Sam.

“What’s going on, Sam?” I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but her comment about missing me is playing on my mind. Is she just trying to mess with me?

“Nothing really,” she lies, picking at the edge of her coffee lid, focusing on it intently to avoid looking me in the eye. Her nails are short and bitten. Not the fiery red talons she drummed on the bar and mesmerized me with that first night we met.

“Do you think you can lie to me like everyone else? I see right through you, Sam,” I challenge her, softer this time, and it’s enough to drag her attention from the cup in her hands.

“I made that up. What Jeremy was talking about.” She sighs and runs a hand through her dark hair, making it shimmer in the sun as it falls around her shoulders.

“Go on.”

“We were out together…” I grit my teeth, not one bit happy to hear about her going anywhere with another man. “I had a panic attack in the nightclub and I didn’t want everyone to know what was going on. So I pretended my drink was spiked and Tara brought me home.”

“So nobody touched you, hurt you?” I need her to say the words. My animal needs the reassurance.

“No.” We fall into silence as relief washes over me. She’s not physically hurt. But she’s still not okay.

“How bad was it?”

In the time we spent together immediately after the fire, I’d talked her through a few. It wasn’t pretty and my heart aches for her, knowing how embarrassed she would have been afterward.

“Let me see. Well, I was lying on the floor of a nightclub, crying and shaking, while people stepped over me. So yes, it was pretty bad.”

“Shit Sam, I’m sorry that happened,” I reach out and give her hand a brief squeeze, knowing how much it pains her to have to admit any vulnerability. It would have cost her greatly to be seen like that. Sam leans into my side and as she breathes deeply, I can feel her relax and her heart rate settle.

“How did you know?” she asks quietly, and I know she won’t be happy about this. I take the empty wrapper and cup from her and put them into the bin beside us.

“Don’t be mad at her, but Tara called me. And she was right to. She said you’re not sleeping, asked if I had any ideas to help.” Sam blinks at me, eyes welling up with tears suddenly glistening in her eyes, and her bottom lip wobbles.

Fuck. I can’t cope with seeing my strong little lady cry. Tucking her under my arm, I pull her close and sigh, just as the tears fall. She looks completely distraught and I can’t work out what the hell is going on here. Is she just that exhausted? My attempt at keeping my distance is failing spectacularly as my protective instincts kick into overdrive.

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” I say, purposely keeping the emotion out of my voice as I lead the way back to where I’ve parked. I should leave, I should just go home and be done with Sam before I get sucked back in and she tears my heart apart again. But those dark circles under her eyes and the way her clothes are hanging off her hips tell me she needs me. Even if she’s going to fight me tooth and nail on it.

“Sean, I…”

Her big blue eyes are watery, and now I get it. She’s going to lay some phony apology on me. If she didn’t bother to pick up the phone before now to give it to me, it means nothing.

“Don’t Sam. I don’t want to hear it right now.”

She looks deflated and sad, and for some reason, that annoys me even more. How dare she be hurt? I open the passenger door roughly and gesture for her to get it, which she does with no snarky comments, no filthy look, and no flipping me the bird. Fuck me. Where is the real Sam? And how am I going to bring her back?