Temporary Home (2 page)

“Everyone needs help at some point.” Sam walked away as Dean’s words slid from his lips.

Dean. His mentor. His friend. And the man he’d thought of as his father. The reason he was on the ferry from Seattle to Bremerton. Dean was in hospital. He’d been diagnosed with bone cancer and had been undergoing chemo. It hadn’t been going well lately and they’d had to stop the chemo and admit him, just to see if they could put some weight back on him and get him strong enough to endure the treatment again. It didn’t look promising, though. Nausea churned in his gut at the thought of losing him.

Aside from the Corps, Dean Richardson and Dean’s niece had been his only family.

“It is so like the commercial. This man is wearing the same thing.”

Sam heard the not-so-hushed whispers behind him and continued to face forward. The boy he’d helped before. The one with the same name.

“You talked to him once, ask him.” Another child spoke. “Or are you chicken?”

He knew what was coming. Sure enough, the little boy and his friend popped around him, both bundled up against the winter air off the water. One boy white and one Asian.

“Sir?”

“Can I help you boys?”

They shared a glance before a nudge was exchanged.

“Do you do like the commercial?”

He peered down, knowing that in his dress blues with blood stripes he looked the same as the Toys for Tots Marines on the television advertisement.

“Christmas is almost here,” he said. “There’s not much time left.”

“I know. It’s why we need to know.”

Their expressions were so hopeful he was hard pressed not to smile. Beyond them he saw the pregnant woman again, her expression even more drawn and full of apology. He gave her a small nod before returning his attention to the boys.

They spoke of the toys they wanted, games and clothes. When the ferry docked at Bremerton, he stared at the boys before going down on one knee. “I’ll see what I can do, but remember the most important thing is being with family and those who love you. Help your mom out.”

He regained his feet and headed for his truck to disembark.

* * * *

It wasn’t long until he was striding through the Christmas-decorated halls of the hospital. On his desired floor, he strode briskly to the room, cover tucked between left arm and side.

Sam gave a sharp knock before swinging the door open. Four faces turned to meet his entrance and his heart leapt. He recognised only Laila, Dean’s youngest niece. She was about his age.

She immediately rose and came to him. There was a smile on her face despite the tears in her eyes. “Sam.”

Laila was such a tiny thing, she barely reached his chest. Still, she smelt familiar, like her mother had, like fresh-baked goods. He wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Laila,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

“Who are you?” a deep voice demanded.

“Dean, be nice,” Laila admonished. “This is Sam.”

Although in no rush to let Laila go, he looked until he found the scowling Dean. He appeared a great deal like his father, except for the expression. Dean Jr had anger all over his face.

“The stray?”

Laila’s arms tightened around him. Old memories of being unwanted flashed before his eyes and almost dragged him back to being that small scared child.

“That’s the one.” His response fell casually, as if it didn’t bother him to be called a stray.

“And why are you here?” Dean again.

“Enough, Dean.” A faint, rasped voice drifted from the bed. “He’s here because I asked him to come. Come closer, Sam.”

The frailty in the voice made him sad but he obeyed the command. Gently, he placed Laila away from him and approached the bed. He didn’t know the others’ names but it was something to deal with later. Their faces showed their displeasure, only Laila’s was welcoming.

Gone was the large, strapping man who had befriended him that cold night all those years ago. In his place lay a thin man who appeared as if a sneeze would break him. Tears threatened to choke Sam and he furiously fought them off.

Brown eyes, still sharp, met his and a smile filled the wizened face.

“Come.”

He walked around the bed until he could see the door, Laila and the other three.

“Yes, sir?”

Dean took his hand and Sam hated how weak the once-powerful grip had become.

“Leave us.”

Sam noticed the anger on the faces, aside from Laila’s, and with much grumbling to themselves they finally vacated the room as Dean had ordered.

“Thank you for coming,” Dean began.

“You know I will always come when you call.”

“I…I left some things to you, Sam. Laila has them.”

He didn’t want to hear talk of things that would happen once death arrived. “I don’t need anything. You’ve given me so much already.”

This time Dean’s smile was tired. “I’m very proud of you and the man you’ve become, Sam. I’ve always thought of you as my son.”

Tears burned his eyes but he refused to shed any. He knew Dean wasn’t too much into public emotional displays.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything.” He would move mountains for this man if he asked him to do so. And if he couldn’t find a way to do that, he’d blow the shit out of them to get them out of the way.

“It’s almost Christmas.” A series of coughs passed. “I have been volunteering at a local children’s home. Second Chances. I need you to fill in.”

“Consider it done.”

“I also want you to find someone and settle down. Be the parent I know you can be.”

All Sam could do was stare as shock filled him. Dean knew he’d tried the fiancée thing before, and they both knew how poorly it had turned out. Why the hell would he do it again?

“Bring them back in.” The order came around more coughing and he hurried to follow it.

Soon, he stood alongside Laila and the others surrounding the bed. Dean stared at each of them. “Look around this bed. This is your family. Never forget that. This is
our
family. Go now, I need to rest.”

They all left together and rode the elevator down in silence. At the door, Sam paused, feeling dazed until Laila touched his arm. He shook off his thoughts of where the rest of Dean’s family was. The man had a few more nieces and nephews but aside from Laila, they kind of kept to themselves. It bothered Sam they wouldn’t be there while Dean was going through what he was. The three who
had
shown up had acted as if they wanted to be anywhere else.

“I’ll ride with you and show you where the house is.” Laila slipped her arm through his.

He nodded and led her to his truck, ignoring the hateful glares from Dean Jr. Laila gave directions and they arrived at a duplex. He parked behind the vehicle carrying the others.

“Come on in, Sam.” She got out and he followed at a much slower pace, holding his bag over one shoulder.

The tension in the house ratcheted up once everyone was inside. He set his bag down by the door and took in Laila’s nice house on his way to the kitchen. Angry voices filtered back to him and he steeled himself for something unpleasant.

“Stop being an ass, Dean. He’s family and of course he will stay here.”

“I don’t consider him
my
family, Laila, and if
you
put him up, I’ll disown you.”

Laila’s gasp raked like talons through his chest. When her parents had died, Dean had welcomed her easily into his home, treating her as a daughter, not as a niece.

The other two—Chris and Tom, according to Laila—backed Dean. Furious on her behalf, Sam began to enter the kitchen. However, a new, unknown voice broke in. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dean. Don’t be such an ass. This isn’t even your house.”

Feminine and slightly raspy, the sound skated along his skin, making him hyperaware.

“Nor is it yours, Roxi, so keep it shut. Or else.”

Sam stepped through the doorway, unwilling to let a woman be threatened.

“Or else what, Dean? Or else what?” Her voice grew darker and he recognised the warning in it, even if Dean didn’t. She obviously didn’t need his protection. She gave a disgusted snort. “That’s what I thought. Laila, he can stay at my house, so your cousin doesn’t flip.”

Everyone fell silent and he glanced at the woman again. She was taller than Laila but still shorter than him. Her hair was pulled back and piled up, showing off a slender neck and making him unable to tell how long her hair was. Skin the hue of dark cocoa covered her lush figure. She wasn’t fat, she had the curves of a real woman, not a half-starved model.

She—Roxi—had silver piercings all along the ear he could see. Well-worn, medium-blue jeans and a hot-pink, tight T-shirt moulded beautifully to her body.

“Such a whore, Roxi. Don’t even know the man and you’re ready for him to be with you in your house.”

He ignored the young boy in him who had been thrown away and was still searching for something he knew would always be his. It wasn’t rational. Still, it was something he had to face. He focused on Dean and the hate spewing from him.

Roxi, however, only laughed. Her amusement flowed like warm velvet over his skin. “Don’t be jealous, I don’t want your STD, Dean. Or is that
STDs
now? I have discerning tastes, you know, ones that don’t include you. And while everyone here knows I’d never let you in, I have no problem with this man staying with me.”

“You don’t even know him!” Dean thundered. “None of us do aside from Laila, and I think she’s enamoured with him.”

Roxi touched Laila’s arm softly. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “He can stay with me.”

“Why?” Dean sounded strangled.

Roxi lifted her head and stared directly at Sam, unsurprised, as if she had known he’d been there the entire time. Her gaze went over him and he noticed the gleam of appreciation. Her eyes were coffee brown and steadfast.

“Because, Dean. Just because. It’s not anything you’d understand.”

But Sam did. Around her neck sat the eagle, anchor and globe, emblem for the United States Marine Corps.

“Semper Fi,” he said.

Everyone but Roxi jumped. She gave him a slight smile along with her nod.

Roxanne ’Roxi’ Mammon had never been one of those women who found themselves light-headed at a single glance from a man. But then, she’d never met the famed Sam Hoch. Until now. And so here she stood, staring at the man across from her in Laila’s kitchen realising her ‘never’ had just been erased.

Not to mention it makes me glad it’s harder to see my blush because he’s making my skin feel oh so hot and flushed.

This was him?
The
Sam Laila spoke so highly of? Holy hell.

If the Marines she’d worked with had been like this, perhaps she would have fought harder to stay longer. The man standing there, Sam, was quite simply a work of art.

He had his cover stowed under his left arm and he wore blood stripes. Although his matching midnight-blue coat sat hidden behind a black jacket and she couldn’t read his rank, his broad shoulders and lean hips weren’t obscured.

Short, dark hair—a Marine high and tight—tanned skin and vivid eyes. She couldn’t tell the exact colour from across the room. Chiselled features gave him a harsh appearance. He obviously wasn’t a man who smiled often.

Laila recovered first and hurried to Sam’s side. He put his attention on her and immediately his countenance softened. It was all over his face how much he loved Laila.

Blowing out a short puff of air, Roxi headed towards the duo, disliking the jealousy she experienced at their affection for one another. A mental reprimand and she was again focused.

Sam lifted his head and speared her with dark, sapphire-blue eyes. Not just any blue, but one that reminded her of the deep blue of the evening sky. Pure and intense, containing an extremely subtle violet undertone all combined with a silky shine.

A quiver rocked her and she thanked Boot for teaching her to keep her emotions hidden. Her best friend faced her and Roxi’s anger grew again at the stress and pain evident in her expression.

“Roxi, this is Sam. Sam, my best friend, Roxi.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He punctuated his statement with a sharp nod.

Manners. Another point in his favour.

She smiled easily, ignoring the serious pounding of her heart. “Roxi, please.”

“Thank you, Roxi.” Laila squeezed her hand.

“Anytime, darlin’. I’ll tell you what. Let me get him settled and dinner will be ready in about an hour from now.” She turned her head. “And you three, it’s my house we’ll be eating in so if you’re rude, I’ll kick your asses out. Nice and quick with no fuss or muss. Come on, Marine. Let’s go get you set up in the guest room.”

“Go on, Sam. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Roxi moved by Sam and bit the inside of her cheek to keep her moan contained. He smelt masculine and it made her think of long winter nights, or days, on a thick rug before a fire where he would…

Whoa there
. She slammed the brakes on that train of thought right quick. At the door, his arm moved beside her as he hefted his bag. The heat emanating from him nearly distracted her.

Oh, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea—he’s here because Dean is hospitalised.

Outside, she paused to glance behind her. Sure enough, there he stood. The setting sun cast its golden glow upon his face. He’d donned his cover and her heart skipped a few beats. Sam had barely said five words to her, yet she couldn’t help her immediate and intense attraction to him.

She caught a brief glimpse of sorrow on his face before it was wiped clear. Something more than worry over Dean’s situation.
What makes you so sad?
His gaze shifted to her and she gave him a smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just next door to her.”

She pointed to the ranch house that neighboured the duplex. She and Laila lived in a subdivision and had about a quarter acre of land each. So while their houses weren’t right on one another, they were not far apart. Heading for the door with him on her heels, she gave herself another mental pep talk—this wasn’t about getting some. She pushed the door open and was instantly hit by a combination of warmth and the smells of cooking food.