28. Samantha
28
SAMANTHA
The nights are the worst.
I used to love the quiet—used to find comfort in the stillness after Ellie went to bed when the house was mine alone and I could breathe. Now, it feels hollow. Too quiet. The walls stretch endlessly around me, pressing in on all the places where Jake used to be. The couch where he’d lounge with that easy grin. The kitchen where he’d flip pancakes like a damn professional, just to make Ellie laugh. The spot at the dining table where he’d sit, elbows on the wood, and he made me feel seen in a way I haven’t been in years.
I close my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands against them as if that’ll make the memories fade. But they don’t. They cling to me, whispering reminders of what I lost—or worse, what I let go of.
Ellie has been moping around the house for days now, dragging her feet, her usual sparkle dimmed. It’s like she’s waiting for something.
For him.
And it’s breaking my heart .
“Aunt Sam, when is Jake coming back?”
Ellie’s voice is small, and hesitant, as she pushes her untouched dinner around on her plate.
I exhale slowly, setting my fork down. “Ellie…”
She looks up at me with wide eyes, hope flickering behind them. “Maybe next weekend? Or when he doesn’t have practice? We can go to the beach again, and he can make pancakes, and?—”
“Ellie,” I say gently, but she barrels on.
“Or we can fly there! He told me once that Maine is really pretty in the summer.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Jake lives far away, sweetheart.”
“So?” she snaps, her little hands clenching into fists on the table. “People visit each other! He could come back, or we could go there!”
“Ellie…”
Her chair scrapes loudly against the floor as she shoves it back, crossing her arms. “You made him leave.”
Her words slam into me like a punch to the gut.
I try to steady my voice. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is!” she shouts. “You didn’t even try to stop him! You always do this, Aunt Sam. You never let anyone stay!”
The air is thick with tension, and my pulse pounding in my ears. I try to reach for her, but she yanks away, storming off toward the stairs.
“Ellie—”
“I hate it here,” she throws over her shoulder before disappearing into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
I close my eyes, inhaling sharply.
She doesn’t mean it. She’s hurting. But that doesn’t make it any easier .
Later that night, I pass by her room and hear the soft buzz of her voice and I know she’s on her iPad. My heart clenches because I already know who she’s talking to.
Jake.
I hover in the hallway, my fingers brushing against the doorframe as I listen.
“You’re really coming to all my games, right?” Ellie’s voice is thick with emotion.
My heart lurches. Jake’s voice is warm and steady as he says, “Of course, kiddo. I wouldn’t miss them.”
Silence. Then, softly I hear Ellie say, “I miss you.”
A pause, then his voice, just as quiet, “I miss you too, Peanut.”
I grip the wall, my chest tightening so much I can’t breathe.
“Aunt Sam doesn’t want to come visit you,” Ellie blurts. “She won’t say it, but I know.”
I hear Jake sigh. “Hey, that’s not fair. Your Aunt is just figuring things out. Grown-ups are complicated.”
Ellie sniffles. “It’s not complicated. She’s just scared.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Jake doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “Yeah, maybe. But you just have to be patient with her, okay?”
Ellie huffs. “I guess.”
“In the meantime, you and me? We’ll have our own secret FaceTime club. Deal?”
I hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Deal.”
Tears sting my eyes as I step away from the door, retreating to my room. I don’t even know what I’m crying for anymore. For Ellie? For myself? For all the things I wish I’d said when I had the chance?
The next morning, I shelve the pancake mix.
I can’t do it. Neither can Ellie. It feels wrong. Instead, I pull out the waffle iron, grabbing the ingredients for Belgian waffles.
Ellie eyes me skeptically. “What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice. “Want to help?”
She shrugs, dragging a stool to the counter. She cracks the eggs without enthusiasm, whisking the batter like it’s a chore. Even when I let her pour in extra vanilla, she doesn’t smile.
We sit at the table in silence, eating waffles that taste like nothing.
It’s not the same.
Nothing is the same.
Maggie shows up that afternoon, letting herself in like she always does, carrying a cup of coffee for me and an expression that says she already knows.
She doesn’t waste time. “You look like hell.”
I snort. “Thanks, Maggie.”
She leans against the counter, crossing her arms. “So, when are you flying to Maine?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “It’s not too late, Sam. You can still fix this.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “It’s not that simple.”
Maggie sighs, exasperated. “It is, though. You’re the one making it complicated.”
I glare at her, but she doesn’t back down. “You’re miserable. Ellie’s miserable. Jake’s probably miserable too. So why are you still here, sitting in your self-inflicted heartbreak, instead of doing something about it?”
“Because I can’t just—” I pause, fisting my hands at my sides. “I don’t know if I can do this, Maggie. ”
Her expression softens. “Why? Because you’re scared?”
I look away.
She steps closer, lowering her voice. “You’ve been protecting yourself for so long, you forgot that love—real love—is worth the risk.”
I swallow hard. “And what if I go and it doesn’t change anything?”
Maggie shrugs. “Then at least you won’t spend the rest of your life wondering what if.”
She has a valid point.
She lets the words settle for a minute, then gives me a sheepish smile. “I’ll watch Ellie. Go.”
I exhale, pressing my fingers against my temple. “Maggie, I?—”
My phone buzzes.
I glance at it, my breath catching when I see the email notification.
From: Jake
Subject: Open invite
My heart pounds as I open it.
Hey, Sam. Hope you and Ellie are doing well.
I was thinking… if you ever wanted to see what I do for a living, I can get you both tickets to a game. No pressure, just an invite. Let me know.
My fingers tighten around my phone.
An open-ended invitation.
A chance. A door has opened. I just need to walk through it.
Maggie peers over my shoulder, reading the email before smirking. “Mm, maybe you look at that as a good omen because it looks like the universe is handing you a second chance.”
I don’t answer, my chest is rising and falling as if Jake is here, kissing my lips, and my neck before he chases me up the stairs. I stare at his words.
No pressure.
Just an invite.
Am I crazy to go after him?
And I decide, what do I have to lose?