16. Sam
16
SAM
My mind has never been this blank. That’s probably because I’ve never felt this good. I didn’t know anything could stop me from thinking, but here I am, just…here. I know it’s a chemical thing, and I’m sure my brain will kick on soon, but right now I just want to bask in this feeling.
It is gloriously quiet in my head. The only sounds are the four of us catching our breath and the whir of the air conditioning. I should have made it colder in here before we got started. Normally when me and the guys have fun with a girl, I jack the air down, because four or more people going at it makes a lot of heat. Unfortunately, Hugo sprung this on me with almost no warning.
Not that I regret any of what just happened.
That word triggers something in my brain, and it’s like the lights are turning back on. As the sex fog lifts, my thoughts leak into my brain again.
The only thought that matters is Marie. “Are you okay?”
Her face is sweaty—I think we all are. I can tell she’s tired, and I don’t blame her. I lost count of her orgasms. But she smiles and yawns. “I’m better than okay. Way better.”
It’s a relief to hear that, in more ways than one.
She saw what I did to Crow. Trick watched her masturbate. Hugo bothered her at work. She could have hated us for all of that, but she still showed up here tonight. She said yes every chance she got. So, she doesn’t regret any of this. If anything, she liked it.
A lot.
I thought I’d feel something aside from this…I don’t know what I’m feeling exactly. Contentment? Satisfaction? Unsure. But I thought guilt would surely be a part of the mix.
The four of us clean up and dress as best we can, and I take a moment before speaking. Can’t help but notice when she holds up her shredded panties at Trick. “These were expensive, by the way,” she teases.
He laughs. “I’ll buy you new ones.”
“You better.”
The mood is lighter than I expected. What we had just now was something I can’t put words on. But if I had to put a word to it, it’d be magic .
That was fucking magical.
I don’t know how she did it. That was her first time, and she took us all like a champ. No. Not a champ. A goddess. A goddess I want to drop to my knees and pray to night and day.
I swallow, trying to clear my head, but it won’t work. “I’m gonna get some air. I’ll be right back.” I kiss the top of her head and bolt for the door.
The fresh night air hits, and there’s no clarity out here, but there is much-needed space and solitude. I lean against the wall outside the shop, staring at the night sky and ignoring the mosquitos.
The stars look the same as they always do—bright and distant and indifferent, scattered across the darkness like flecks of paint someone forgot to clean up. They’re as constant as anything in this world, but tonight they don’t feel like enough. Not when my thoughts are tied up with her.
Marie.
It’s not like me to get tangled up like this. I’ve always been the steady one, the dependable one. The guy who keeps his feet on the ground when everyone else is flying off the rails. I’ve lived my life that way for as long as I can remember, content to let the world spin as it will.
Aunt Jenny says I’m a rock. Great to depend on, or to throw at someone’s head when needed. I always took that for a compliment, but tonight I’m not so sure.
I don’t feel like a rock right now, and being dependable is its own kind of curse. I’m pretty sure Preacher has never thought I’d let him down like this, and on any other night I’d feel bad about what I did. But not right now.
Truthfully, not ever. I could never regret what I did tonight.
Yet, for the first time in years—maybe for the first time ever—I don’t feel steady. I don’t feel grounded. At this moment, I feel like I’m free-falling toward the stars, and the only thing I can see is her.
I should feel guilty about what just happened. I should. But I don’t. I know I should be out here pacing, wringing my hands over the fact that she’s Preacher’s daughter, that she’s so much younger than me, that this is all kinds of complicated.
But the truth is, I can’t bring myself to feel bad about it. Not even a little bit. Because what just happened in that room? It wasn’t just some casual fling. Not to me. It wasn’t just about the way she felt, the way she looked, the way she tasted.
It was about the way she made me feel. Alive. Wanted. Like I wasn’t just some placeholder in her life. Not just a hookup. And that’s not something I’ve felt in a long, long time.
I’ve been lonely before. Not for friends—I’ve had Trick and Hugo since we were practically kids, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. But romantically? That’s a different story.
I’ve had my share of women, of course. Hell, I’ve had ten other guys’ fair share of women too. You don’t make it to forty-two without at least a few stories to tell. But none of them ever stuck. Not because they weren’t good enough or because I didn’t care—I just never felt like I could give them what they wanted.
Stability. A future. Someone who wasn’t so tangled up in his own baggage that he couldn’t see past the next day. I’m a rock, sure, but I’ll never have a normal life. I’ve never wanted the white picket fence or the two-point-five kids or the newest car or any of that. I’m the guy you call in a pinch, not the one you walk down the aisle with.
And for years, I told myself I was fine with that. Hookups are great. Not everyone gets the family dinners or coaching the kids’ soccer team to victory or the soft laughter of someone waiting for you at home.
Not everyone is meant for that kind of life, and that’s okay.
I’ve always told myself I’m not that guy.
But Marie makes me want to believe otherwise.
It’s not just that she’s beautiful—though God knows she is. It’s the way she is. How she smiles when she’s nervous like she can’t help herself. The way she talks about books, her voice soft and full of wonder and reverence. The way she laughs, so light and unguarded that it feels like it was made just for me.
And the way she looks at me…
It’s not just shy glances or fleeting smiles. There’s something else there, something real and warm and hers. It’s like she calls to the person I am beyond my baggage, and I don’t know what to make of it.
I could imagine waking up to that laugh, to that smile. I could imagine her sitting at the kitchen table in the morning, sipping coffee and telling me about the latest book she’s reading. I can see it all. How we’d cuddle up to watch a movie, or go for walks in the park. Holding her long into the night. Listening to her breathe as she dreams.
But I don’t know if she can picture it, and that’s the part that keeps me out here, staring at the stars like they’ll somehow give me the answer.
The shop door creaks open, and for a second, I think about going back inside. But I don’t. Not yet. I need a minute. Not to think—I’ve done enough of that. But to settle. To remind myself that this isn’t just about me and what I want.
It’s about her. About the guys.
Because if she doesn’t want more than this—if this is just a fling for her, something fun and fleeting—I don’t know if I can handle that. Not because I’d be mad or hurt or even disappointed.
But because I don’t want to put this on her. I don’t want her to feel like she owes us anything, like she has to give us more than she’s ready to give. She’s too kind, too soft, too good for that.
So if that’s all this is to her, we have to let it be enough. I’ll burn for it, but I won’t lay my burdens on her. Not now, not ever. It’s bad enough that I have them.
But God, if she wants more…if there’s even the slightest chance she’s open to it…
I don’t think I’d ever let her go.
The sound of her giggle floats through the door, light and musical, and my chest tightens all over again. It’s a good sound. A sound I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear again after what happened the other night.
I know what trauma does to people. I know how it hollows you out, makes you afraid to laugh, afraid to trust, afraid to live. I’ve seen it too many times in the mirror.
But not her. Marie is still laughing, still smiling, still soft.
And that makes me want to protect her even more. Not just from the world, but from myself too. I want her to stay soft and good and pure. I need to preserve some of that in the world. Isn’t that what life is about? Protecting the good in it?
What if I fuck this up? Or Trick or Hugo does? What then? Does she understand what this means to us? Does that even matter?
No way to find out while I’m alone out here. I take a deep breath, push off the wall, and walk back inside.
The hum of the fluorescent lights greets me first, followed by the sound of Trick’s voice, low and teasing. Hugo is laughing softly, and when I step into the back room, I see her sitting in the chair, her hair a little messy, her cheeks flushed.
She’s smiling. Not just smiling—beaming.
And when she looks at me, that smile shifts, softens, and suddenly it’s not just a smile. It’s something bigger. Something brighter. “There you are.”
She sees me, and she’s not afraid of what she sees. It’s that acceptance that rocks me to my core. I always thought that if a woman saw me go to town on some asshole, she’d run screaming from me, and I wouldn’t blame her, because why would she want someone who could do that?
But Marie ain’t like that. She knows what I am, and she’s still here.
And just like that, I’m free-falling all over again. Because that smile? It’s a smile that says, “I’m so happy you came back.” It hits me square in the chest, knocking the air out of me like a punch I didn’t see coming.
It’s the kind of smile that is pure trouble and makes you want to ask a thousand questions: Do you know how beautiful you are? Do you know what you mean to me? Do you want more than this?
But I don’t ask. Because it’s too soon, and I know it. I’d come off like a crazy person. So instead I just nod, my voice low and steady as I reply, “Hey.”