Chapter 9 Sam #2
The Donovans took me in without ever making it official. Fed me dinner, let me sleep on their couch, treated me like I belonged. Jack's parents became the parents I didn't have, and Jack became the sibling Anna couldn't be from three states away.
She knew—what they meant to me. I think part of her was grateful someone had stepped into the gap she'd left. And part of her carried it like a wound that never fully healed.
"How's Greg?" I asked. "How's Virginia treating you?"
"Cold. Gray. The kids love it." She paused. "How are you really doing, Sammy? How's Amber?"
I groaned.
"Oh." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Is that what this call is about? Relationship troubles?"
"I've been thinking about ending things with her."
"Oh, so it is about relationship troubles. What's going on?"
I sighed. "Her family wants me to stop being a firefighter."
"What?"
"They want me to go to college. With Amber. Her dad offered to pay for everything. Business degree, career in finance, the whole package."
Anna was quiet for a moment. "That doesn't sound too bad."
"Yeah. But it's not what I want."
"What do you want?"
"To stay a firefighter." I stared at the ceiling. "And I can't be with someone who keeps trying to change me into something I'm not just to fit an image she wants."
The line went quiet. I could hear Anna breathing, the faint creak of her chair.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." But the smile came through anyway. "Sometimes I forget you're a fully grown man. In my mind, you're still eight years old, running around after Jack."
Jack's name landed between us.
"How's Jamie doing?" Anna asked. Softer now.
"She's staying in Havensworth. For Rosie." I picked at a thread on the couch cushion. "She wants to push for reforms. In the fire department."
"Well, that makes sense. Her brother just died because of a fire."
Because of me.
The thought came before I could stop it. I swallowed it down.
"So what's the problem?" Anna asked.
I exhaled. "I don't think the Havensworth Fire Department is going to be all that interested in listening to a woman from New York tell them what to do."
"So what are you going to do about it?"
"That's the problem. I don't know how to help her."
Anna sighed. "Sammy."
"What?"
"You're scared that you can't fix this problem for her."
I didn't answer. She wasn't wrong.
"You've always been like this," Anna said. "With Mom. With me, before I left. With everyone you care about." She paused. "You think love means standing in front of someone. Shielding them. Taking the hit so they don't have to."
I thought about our mother, working doubles while Dad drank himself to death. The way I used to wait up for her, make sure there was food in the fridge, clean up whatever mess Dad had left behind so she wouldn't have to see it.
"But that's not what Jamie needs," Anna said. "She's not sixteen anymore, Sammy. She's a grown woman who moved to New York and built something all on her own. She doesn't need you to protect her from a fight. She needs you to be in it with her."
Sixteen.
Anna didn't know why that number landed the way it did.
She didn't know what happened to Jamie that year.
But I did. I remembered finding her in a hidden corner of our high school, shaking, broken.
I remembered not knowing what to say. Not being able to fix it.
Not being able to do anything except sit there while someone I cared about fell apart.
I'd been trying to make up for that ever since.
"You can't fix everything for the people you love," Anna said quietly. "But you can show up. That's all any of us can do."
I sighed. "Yeah. You might be right."
"I usually am."
I was lucky to have her. Even from three states away, even with everything our family had been through, she still showed up. Still called. Still knew exactly what to say when I didn't know what I needed to hear.
"Thanks, Anna."
"Anytime, Sammy." She paused before adding, "And call me after you talk to Amber."
"Why?"
"Can't a sister be nosy?"
I laughed.
"And Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm proud of you."
"Love you, Anna."
"Love you too."
"Good night."
I hung up and sat there for a long time, the phone still warm in my hand.
Something had shifted. I could feel it. Like a door I'd been leaning against had finally swung open, and all I had to do was walk through.
Amber showed up the next evening with a stack of brochures in her arms.
"I'm back!" She kissed my cheek before I could react. "Did you miss me?"
"Amber—"
She breezed past me like she still belonged here, dropping her purse on the counter and spreading the glossy pamphlets across my kitchen table. Each one fanned out like a hand of cards she expected me to play.
"Daddy gave me these when I got home. He's been doing research." She smiled up at me, bright and expectant. "He talked to Graff again. The recommendation letter is ready whenever you want it. We could be starting classes by fall—"
"I'm not going to college."
She stopped. "What?"
"I'm not going to college with you, Amber."
Her brow furrowed. Her smile faltered like she was waiting for the punchline.
"I'm staying a firefighter. This is who I am."
"You're serious?"
"I am."
Amber laughed. Soft. Gentle. Like I'd said something silly and she was being patient with me. "Sam. You're just upset. Jack dying has you all turned around—"
"This isn't about Jack."
"Of course it is." She stepped closer, her hand finding my arm. "You're grieving. You're not thinking clearly. But once you've had some time—"
"Amber, I'm telling you the truth." I took a breath. "You deserve someone who wants the same things you do."
She went still. Her hand stayed on my arm, but the warmth drained out of her touch.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm not that person. I'm never going to want the life your father has planned for us." I met her eyes. "You should be with someone who's excited about that future. Not someone you have to drag into it."
Her face shifted. Hurt flickering beneath the surface, quick and sharp. For a moment I thought she might actually hear me.
"Maybe you just need some time."
"Amber—"
"Take some time." She grabbed her purse from the counter. Kissed my cheek. "You'll see. Call me when you're ready."
Then she was gone.
I stood in the empty apartment, staring at the brochures still spread across my kitchen table. College of Havensworth. Clemson. University of South Carolina. A future mapped out by a man who thought he knew what was best for me.
She didn't hear me, or at least, she didn’t want to. Amber Henderson had never been told no in her life. She didn't know what to do with a boundary except pretend it wasn't there.
But I meant it. It was over.
Whether she believed it or not.