Living With Regret (29 page)

“Sam,” I whisper, not even needing to turn my head to know whose voice it is. “What are you doing here?”

“Right now, it looks like I’m saving you from something. What are you running from?”

I turn, bracing my hands on his chest. I haven’t been this close to him in a while. My relationship with Cory came between us. It was a divider. A separator. Sam was my best friend, Cory became my boyfriend, and they hated each other. There was no space large enough for the three of us. Being this close to Sam almost makes me forget I’m supposed to be running.

The scene from a few minutes ago is coming back to me. It hits me hard, like a jackhammer to the heart, and my knees become weak. Sam’s arms come around my back to hold me up. “What the fuck happened, Rachel? Talk to me.”

Gazing up, it’s hard to make out his face under the night sky. I reach up, running my fingers along his square jaw, feeling the light stubble against my skin. “Something the Big Dipper can’t fix,” I whisper.

Sam brushes a small strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m Sorry. I—”

“Rachel, what the fuck is going on over here? Is this where you’ve been all fucking night?” a voice screams from the distance. All blood rushes to my head. Cory.

“Rachel! Rachel!” I’m on my back, and Sam’s straddling my waist, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly. I’m lost in a daze, the aftershock of the voices. They temporarily hold my body and voice hostage while I process every part of the memory. When I’d tried to envision what happened that night, I never imagined it like that … with Sam. Why didn’t he tell me? If he was there, why would he keep that from me?

Things come into focus again. Sam looks down at me, sweat drenching his hair and brow. Worry and panic are written on his face like a horror story.

“You were there,” I finally mumble. “You were there, and you didn’t tell me.”

His eyes widen, his hands easing up on my shoulders. He doesn’t need to ask what I’m talking about. He knows … it shows in every muscle in his body. “Let me explain.”

“Get off me!” I yell, pushing against his chest, but even with the rage inside of me, I can’t move him. Neither of us has any clothes on, but I don’t care. It’s the last freaking thing on my mind. Everything I’ve built my life around the last few months is crumbling, or maybe it was never on solid footing at all.

“Just give me two minutes. Please.” My heart aches just looking at him. Not because I’m absorbing his pain, but because looking at him reminds me of the pain he’s caused in me. Staring at him reminds me how great things were, and how full he made my heart. Up until a few minutes ago, Sam Shea was the person I trusted most in the world. Now, though, he’s someone I don’t trust at all.

“I can’t even look at you. This was a mistake.”

His chin dips to his chest, his eyes pained and frustrated as he moves off me. Why couldn’t he have just been honest with me? Is it that hard? He sits, legs hanging off the side of the bed, elbows resting on his bare thighs. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I scream, climbing out of bed, picking my clothes up off the floor along the way. “I’ve been trying for months to remember what happened that night, and all along you’ve held a piece of that puzzle in your hands, Sam.”

“I didn’t think it was the part that mattered.”

I quickly clasp my bra and put on my blouse, fastening the buttons at record pace. “It matters! It fucking matters! Maybe … maybe my parents were right about you all along.”

He watches me as I step into my jeans, avoiding direct eye contact. His hand brushes through his hair, then down the back of his neck, but he doesn’t leave his spot on the bed. “Is this it? Are we over because of this?” He sounds defeated, resigned.

I pull on my boots and search the room for my jacket. “We never started. A relationship can’t be built on a lie. If it is, the whole thing is just a big lie.”

“Don’t push me away, Rachel. I’ll do anything you ask me to if you let me explain.”

I come around the side of the bed, waving my hands in front of him. I feel one hundred percent crazy right now with no chance for sanity any time soon. “Don’t you get it? The reason Cory and I were fighting was because he saw me with you. It doesn’t matter why I was running that night. You’re the reason for the accident.”

After watching his face twist like heated metal, I can’t take it anymore. I’m done talking. Done fighting. Leaving Sam behind, I pick up my coat from the back of the chair and hastily walk toward the door. When my hand is on the knob, I look back one last time.

“Just tell me one thing. What were you doing out there that night? You hadn’t been to one of those parties in years.”

He visibly winces, climbing off the bed with the gray sheet wrapped around his waist. Just minutes ago, I would have been awed by him, but now, I can’t even stand to look.

“Before I ran into you, I was with Lidia Mathers.”

Lidia’s one year younger than me, and she’s different than the girls I’ve seen him with through the years, but still easy enough to become one of his latest conquests. Him being with her seems a little strange, but it’s the least of my worries.

“Was this ever real for you?” I ask, letting the first tear slip down my cheek. “Were you just playing me like every other girl?”

He steps forward until he’s only two feet away from me. His hand comes out, aching to touch me, but he holds back. The move is painful for both of us. “Nothing’s ever been more real.”

I nod, turning away to avoid his glossed-over eyes. “When you look back at this years from now, don’t think for one minute that I pushed you away. You and your lies did all the pushing. I need to go,” I say quietly, opening the door and disappearing through it. I draw some satisfaction when it slams behind me. I want him to know I’m angry. I want him to feel it in the same way I do.

I walk through the shop, not bothering to take a look back to make sure he’s not following behind. As I step out into the cold morning air, I wrap my arms tightly around my middle. The walk from his apartment to my house isn’t exactly a short one, especially in weather like this, but there’s no way in hell I’d accept a ride from him. Besides that, I need time to think, to try to push down the sickness in my stomach. Just when I finally thought things were looking up, that stupid dark cloud formed overhead again. I’m starting to think it’s going to permanently follow me no matter what I do or where I go.

My feet move quickly across the grass as I try to push through the soreness between my legs from last night and this morning. I’ve never felt so close to someone only to have it all ripped away like this just minutes later. It’s different than what happened to Cory because Sam’s still here. If I wanted him, I could have him. But not after what he did.

As I come closer to my house, I’m relieved to find that Mom’s car isn’t in the driveway. At least I’ll be able to get upstairs and hide away in my room without questions about my tear-stained cheeks. It seems like I’m going right back to the place I was a few months ago. One step forward, two steps back … or in this case, at least ten back. But this time, instead of guilt, it’s overwhelming anger pulling me back. Sam was the last person I expected would ever hurt me.

LIFE CHANGES QUICKLY WITH
the turn of a key. If it’s the right one, it can unlock something fantastic, but if it’s wrong, it stops you in your tracks. All I ever wanted was to be happy. When I was a little girl, I spent hours watching Disney movies about girls like me who became princesses and lived happily ever after. I want that … the happily ever after part.

When I got home this morning, I took a long, hot shower, attempting to wash the memories of Sam from my skin. I didn’t want to remember his touch or scent. I wanted it gone, but even after I climbed out of the shower, he was still there. I’m never going to forget what we shared last night.

I’ve lain on my soft cotton sheets most of the afternoon, attempting to forget him, but all I can think about is how it felt beneath his naked body last night. He did things to me that I didn’t know were possible, things that I felt well below the skin’s surface. Things I’m struggling to forget, even with the rage that’s brewing inside me.

“Rachel, dinner’s ready!”

I’ve successfully avoided my mom all day because she was helping with a function at church, but that’s not going to be possible now. If I don’t go down there, she’ll come up here. No matter what I do, I’m screwed. I’ve been walking around like a giddy teenage girl all week; that’s over now. I grab my long black cardigan sweater and slip it on over my gray T-shirt. I could care less what I look like.

I straighten my black leggings and take the stairs slowly, trying to delay the inevitable. Mom is not at the bottom like I thought she might be, but I hear her banging dishes around in the kitchen. Inhaling a long breath, I head in her direction, doing my best to force a smile. That’s not easy right now either.

“I tried to call you earlier!” she yells as soon as she hears my bare feet against the entryway floors.

“I was asleep.” It’s a half-truth … or half lie. It depends on how you look at it. The truth is my phone has been off all day because I wanted to avoid Sam’s calls if he tried to contact me. It’s still buried deep inside my purse somewhere, and I don’t plan on taking it out until I feel sane enough to handle it.

“Do you want to eat in here or the dining room?” she asks as I round the corner to the kitchen. Her back is turned, straining a pot of spaghetti.

“This is fine,” I answer, sliding onto one of the barstools that surround the island.

She turns immediately at the sound of my voice. “What’s wrong?”

I pause, my hand lying flat on the cool granite.
How does she do that?

“Wait. Did you come home last night?”

I shake my head, wishing I wasn’t so transparent.

Her eyes rake my body. “Is it Sam? Did he hurt you?”

Yes and yes
, I think to myself. It’s just not what she’s thinking. He didn’t force anything. He didn’t take anything I didn’t want to give him. He simply misused my heart, chopping it up and pureeing it.

“We had a fight. It’s over.” I shrug, having a hard time admitting to that. I was really starting to feel like Sam was someone I’d have in my life forever.

“Really?” she says, scrunching her nose. “I was just starting to like him, the way he changed you anyway. It was nice to see you smile again, Rachel.”

A smile—what brings it on exactly? Is it because we feel good? Is it because life is good, and we feel like it can’t get much better? Sure, I felt like that, but it’s long gone now.

“I was starting to like him, too,” I whisper, tracing circles around the little designs in the granite.

“What happened?” She scoops pasta onto two plates, then grabs for a pot of her homemade spaghetti sauce. It’s one of her best dishes, but tonight I’m not hungry. Food is the last thing on my mind.

“You don’t really want to talk about this, do you, Mom?”

She stops, placing the pot back on the stovetop. “I do actually. I wasn’t what you needed after the accident, but I want to be what you need now.”

I’m hesitant. Once I tell her, I can’t take it back. There are a lot of things I can’t take back these days. “I remembered something about the night of the accident,” I say, fixing my eyes on the full plate of pasta that she sets in front of me. “Sam was there.”

Her eyebrows pull in. “He was there when you remembered?”

“No … Yes, I mean he was at the party the night of the accident.”

“He never told you that before?”

“No. He’s the reason Cory was upset with me, Mom. A while back, I remembered the last minutes before the crash. Cory was so upset, so angry with me. He’d reached for the steering wheel, and when I pulled my hand away, the car veered off the road straight into the trees.”

“I don’t get it. Why was he angry?”

Closing my eyes, I count silently until my heart rate slows. “Because he saw me with Sam.”

Mom’s lips form the perfect “O” as she drops her fork on her plate. “So you were with Sam that night?”

I rest my elbows on the counter, shelving my chin in my hands. “No, I don’t think so. I was running from something and ended up in Sam’s arms. I just don’t remember why I was running.”

She picks up the towel from the front of the sink and wipes her hands. She contemplating, and I can’t believe I just told her all that when I’ve barely let her in my whole life. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you,” she finally says, slowly sliding into the seat next to me.

“Neither can I,” I reply, pushing some pasta around with my fork.

We sit in this awkward silence, staring down at our plates. Neither of us actually takes a bite, but the food serves as a distraction. I’m still too hurt and pissed off to actually put anything in my mouth.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, finally pushing her plate away.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Mom actually smiles. That’s a rarity in its genuine form. “Now you sound like your father.”

I wince. “I hate when you say that.”

“Sorry. I know he’s not your favorite person, and he could have done a better job supporting you these last few months, but he means well. If he weren’t a good man, I wouldn’t have married him.”