Chapter Twenty-Seven. Sam
chapter twenty-seven
SAM
When the news about Seven breaks, I’m the last person in New York to hear it.
I’m too relieved to have Ben in one piece in the back seat of the car to process anything else.
He’s going to have some ugly bruises on his left arm from his incident on the Slip ’N Slide in the backyard, but according to the doctors at the ER, nothing’s broken.
Nothing other than every damn nerve in my body, but that comes with the territory.
Ben is in high spirits when we make it back to New Jersey, thanks to all the attention from three panicking parents, and the Happy Meal we got him on the way home.
But my heart is still beating like a battering ram.
I don’t take my eyes off him for a damn second until he’s gone to sleep, and even then, all three of us stand outside the door like we’re keeping guard.
“Is it legal to Bubble Wrap a kid for eighteen years?” I ask.
We all let out quiet, exhausted laughs, but I’m not kidding. That call scared the shit out of me. I’ll do anything it takes not to get one like it again.
Lizzie picks my phone up from the counter. “I sent Mackenzie a text to let her know Ben was okay on the way home, but you’ve got a lot of missed calls.”
Shit. The rest of the world starts seeping in like a draft under the door. That gutting song. Mackenzie’s secret. The shock and guilt I didn’t even have time to process before Lizzie’s call hit me like a brick.
I open Mackenzie’s texts first: Did you leave? Call me when you get a chance , says the first one. The missed calls come after that. Then a second text: I’m so relieved Ben is okay. I can’t even imagine. Don’t worry about anything else, we’re taking care of it.
She doesn’t say anything about Seven, but a quick Google search tells me the rest of the world is:
Seven Is Already Someone Famous—And You Definitely Know Her Name
All The Embarrassingly Obvious Connections Between Mackenzie Waters And “Seven” We Missed
Mackenzie! Waters! Is! Seven!!!!!
I’m about to call her, but there’s a knock at the door on Dad Side. I cross over to open it fast, but it’s not Mackenzie on the other end. It’s Twyla in a bright green ensemble, sporting a grim expression and a bottle of scotch.
Her eyes narrow when they meet mine. “Did you know about Seven?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “You didn’t?”
She lets out a bark of a laugh, letting herself in. “Damn. Can’t believe that kid pulled a fast one like that on me and my sister. Isla’s a shark.”
I’m too damn tired to think of a better way to ask. “So why are you here?”
Her answer is to prop the scotch on the counter, tapping the cap so I’ll undo the plastic and she won’t mess up her nails.
“Well,” she says.
My hand stops over the bottle. “Mackenzie’s not in trouble, is she?”
Twyla blinks at me. “No,” she says slowly. “But you and I—we’ve got to come up with a game plan here.”
I pop the cork off. “It’s been a crazy day. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
Twyla is pulling out glasses as if I haven’t spoken. “Have you been online?”
“No,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. Too little, too late. My head’s been pounding for hours. At this point the booze can’t hurt.
“That last song,” says Twyla slowly. “People think it’s about you.”
I lean against the counter, staring down at the amber in the glasses. This is the last song I’ll ever write about you , the song starts, before listing all the other lasts . The last of her tears. The last of her love. The last of her faith.
The lyrics are subtle, but now that I know the truth, I can trace back every word. It isn’t just a song. It’s a timeline. A brutal history of the years I spent avoiding her, and the years she spent hiding from me.
All the wasted time I didn’t just hurt myself, but hurt her more than I ever knew.
I knock back half my pour. “It is,” I tell her.
Twyla takes a sip from her own glass, her eyes on me, waiting for an explanation. But I’ve got nothing to say. At least, nothing I want to say before talking to Mackenzie.
Eventually Twyla sets the glass back down, blowing out a breath. “No easy way to put this, so here goes,” she says. “The label is thinking about putting a stop to Mack and Sam. They want Mackenzie to put all her effort into Seven, this time with them backing her.”
I wait for the blow, but at this point there isn’t much of me left to hit.
“Good,” I hear myself saying. “She deserves that. Hell—we knew from the start I needed her more than she needed me.”
Twyla shakes her head sternly. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth,” I insist. “Seven is a legend. She should be proud. I know I am.”
Twyla’s brows lift. This isn’t how she expected this conversation to go. It takes her a moment to recover, but I am eerily calm.
“You should be proud of the work you did, too,” says Twyla. “The songs you wrote together—they’re incredible.”
They are, but it doesn’t change the truth. If they have to choose between a sure bet they already have and a sure bet they don’t, they’ll pick the first every time. And Mackenzie isn’t just a sure bet. She’s a damn star.
Twyla leans into the table sharply, like she’s trying to snap me back to attention.
“We’ll make a new game plan. See if Mackenzie will be open to letting you use some of the songs you wrote together for your own solo career.”
Ah. I see now. Twyla didn’t just come here to warn me about Mack & Sam ending. She came here for damage control on my career.
“Nah,” I say easily. “I can’t go singing those without her.”
Twyla blinks. I’m not used to surprising her. It would be funny, on any other day.
“You’ve got other songs you were working on. Pull those out for me. We’ll regroup.” She pauses. “After the stuff with Seven dies down.”
It’s her grimace that clues me in. I let out a sharp laugh. “Shit,” I say. “People are out for my blood, huh?”
Twyla doesn’t deny it, lifting her glass at me adamantly. “Ignore all that. It’s all just internet garbage,” she says. “This is just one of those weird chapters in your very long career.”
But it’s not my career I’m worried about.
It’s the people I love, and all the things I haven’t been able to protect them from.
I couldn’t protect Lizzie from raising Ben without me those first few years.
I couldn’t protect Ben from my infamy, or even a damn toy in someone’s backyard.
I couldn’t protect Mackenzie from all that heartbreak.
I couldn’t protect her from me .
Mackenzie calls again after Twyla leaves, but I don’t pick up. I already know what she’s going to say—that she’s determined to keep on with the duo, the label be damned. Her own success be damned.
But she knows there’s no world where I let her do that.
I take my scotch and head back over to Mom Side, sitting outside Ben’s door. A few hours ago, all this would have felt complicated beyond belief. But right now, everything is simple. My kid is safe. All the people I love are safe. As long as that’s true, there’s nothing else worth worrying about.
I fall asleep with my head against the door and my heart beating all over my body, terrified and grateful and certain of what I need to do next.