Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Imogene
I stared at the ceiling, unable to quiet my mind long enough to fall asleep. I shouldn’t have had any trouble sleeping. Normally, whenever I spent the night with Gideon, my body was too exhausted, sleep coming easily.
But despite his ravenous appetite for me tonight, I couldn’t stop my brain from spinning.
Couldn’t stop thinking about that damn glass.
Couldn’t stop thinking about Samuel.
It was as if my brain was trying to tell me something. But what?
Discreetly slipping out of bed, I padded out of my room and down the stairs, using my phone to light the way to the kitchen. I opened one of the cabinets and retrieved a glass, filling it with water. As I drank, I leaned against the counter, my gaze fixated on Samuel’s name scrawled on the Banker’s box.
I could hear Melanie’s voice in my head, urging me to move on from the past and focus on my future. Maybe this box was the reason I couldn’t sleep, the contents stirring up old emotions and painful memories that were better left forgotten.
Determined, I set my glass on the counter and grabbed a trash bag from under the sink. Then I proceeded to dump the contents of the box into it. After tying the bag tightly, I carried it out to the back deck, dropping it onto the surface with a satisfying thud.
For years, Samuel’s ghost had been a constant presence in my life. Now that I was finally taking a step toward moving on from my past, I felt lighter, a weight lifting off my shoulders.
But I’d never be completely free when traces of Samuel’s memory still lingered in every inch of my home. It was time to let go of these reminders. I’d never forget him entirely, but I needed to stop surrounding myself with memories that continued to hold me hostage.Otherwise, I’d forever be trapped in a vicious cycle of taking one step forward, then three steps back.
Making my way into my office, I went through all my framed photographs adorning the bookshelves, removing any that included Samuel and placing them in the now empty Banker’s box. It wasn’t until I reached a photo of Samuel, Ollie, and me that I hesitated. All the other photos were group shots of Melanie, Liam, Samuel, and me.
But this one… This was special. It captured a moment when I was truly happy. I studied the photo of Samuel and me standing on the beach with Ollie between us. I could physically see how happy we were. Could physically feel the love we had for each other.
We shared something so special. But like Gideon told me last night. What I shared with Samuel helped me become the woman I was today. And he was falling for that woman. As much as I missed Samuel, I needed to let go of him.
Resolved, I placed the framed photo on top of the others, pausing when something in it caught my attention. A birthmark near Samuel’s hipbone.
Grabbing it once more, I squinted, studying the imperfection I’d forgotten about over the years. It was similar to the one Gideon had in the same spot. But it wasn’t the same shape.
Then again, maybe that was simply due to the scars marring his skin.
What was I even thinking? That Gideon was Samuel?
It was absurd. They were two completely different people. Not to mention Gideon looked nothing like Samuel.
Yet I still grabbed my phone and navigated toward the album containing all the photos and videos I’d avoided for years. This was the last thing I should have been doing, considering I’d just vowed to stop dwelling on the past.
I rationalized my actions by telling myself that once I found a clearer photo or video of Samuel, proving the birthmark in no way resembled Gideon’s, I’d finally let go and move on.
As I scrolled through hundreds of photos and videos, my eyes lingered on one video in particular. It had been taken around the same time as the photo in question and captured Samuel and Ollie playing together on the beach.
The sun shone brightly in the brilliant blue sky, casting a warm glow over them. Samuel threw a tennis ball toward the ocean, his laughter ringing out as Ollie eagerly dove into the shallow water to retrieve it, his furry body glistening with droplets of saltwater upon resurfacing.
But Ollie could never play fetch with just one ball. Instead, whenever he ran back to Samuel, he refused to let go of the ball in his mouth until Samuel produced a second one. Only then would Ollie drop the ball, anxiously waiting for Samuel to throw the new one.
My heart warmed as I watched Samuel and Ollie play together, swiping through more videos I’d taken that day. In one of them, Ollie had just retrieved his ball from the water when a seagull landed nearby. He immediately dropped the ball and chased after the seagull instead.
Without missing a beat, Samuel bellowed, “Ollie, heel!”
The sound of his voice caused me to suck in a sharp intake of air.
But it wasn’t just his voice. It was that voice. Those words. That command.
It was practically identical to the way Gideon sounded when he ordered Ollie to heel the other day.
As I replayed the video and listened to Samuel repeat the same command, he sounded more and more like Gideon.
Or maybe I simply wanted him to sound more and more like Gideon.
I couldn’t be sure.
All I did know was I thought there was something familiar about him from the beginning. Now, as I watched old videos of Samuel, that feeling only grew stronger.
I dug my fingers into my hair, feeling like I was on a constant seesaw with no way of getting off. I reminded myself of what Melanie said earlier. That if Samuel were still alive, he wouldn’t have stayed away from me. Plus, every medical expert insisted he couldn’t have survived after losing that much blood. Samuel Tate was dead.
That still didn’t stop me from analyzing everything about Samuel in the videos. From the way he moved. To the way he laughed. To the smooth cadence of his voice.
If I closed my eyes, it could have been Gideon.
But how could that be?
I continued to scroll through all the photos and videos, searching for one of Samuel without his shirt on. When I landed on one I’d taken as he lay by the pool, I clicked on it.
His features were softer than Gideon’s, his jaw smoother, nose smaller, face thinner. But those piercing eyes and strong brow were unmistakably the same. I moved down the photo to analyze the rest of his body.
The body I once knew so intimately but now seemed almost foreign to me after all this time.
While Samuel was in amazing shape from years of wrestling and martial arts, he wasn’t as bulky as Gideon. Regardless of the differences, I zoomed in on his torso, scrutinizing every mark and blemish.
It was one thing for him to have a similar birthmark.
It was another to also have an identical scar right below the ribcage from where one of Samuel’s foster brothers burned him with a cigarette. A scar I’d forgotten about until now.
In all the times I’d seen Gideon without a shirt on, it hadn’t even dawned on me that Samuel had a similar scar. In my defense, my mind was typically preoccupied whenever I saw Gideon shirtless.
Now, the similarity was glaring at me.
Not even thinking about what I was doing, I stormed up the stairs and burst into my bedroom. Crawling onto the bed, I yanked the duvet down Gideon’s body, revealing his heavily scarred torso.Red lines crisscrossed his skin, some deep and jagged, while others were only a subtle reminder of his past.
And amongst the many scars were the same cigarette burns and birthmark Samuel had in this photo, although Gideon’s were duller and his birthmark wasn’t quite the same shape, having been cut off by one of his scars.
Still, they were in the same exact spot as Samuel.
That couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Ready to go again?” Gideon asked, his voice raspy as he opened his eyes to meet my gaze.
“How did you get this?” I demanded, pointing to the burns in question.
“What do you?—”
“These marks right here.” I ran my fingers along them, a thousand memories of doing the same thing with Samuel flooding back. “How did you get them?” I barely squeaked out.
He hesitated, his expression shifting from confusion to something resembling dread. “I told you. I was in a car accident.”
“I know what you told me,” I snapped, my eyes on fire as I leaned closer. “How did you really get them?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a nervous swallow as he shifted his gaze to meet mine. “What’s this all about?”
I tried to remember what Melanie’s father once said about how to tell if someone was lying or hoping to deceive you. I thought he mentioned something about eye contact. That if someone failed to look you directly in the eye, it was a surefire way to know they were lying.
As was trying to be evasive when answering.
While Gideon’s eye contact remained steady, he was being evasive.
“Tell me how you got these marks,” I ordered, although my voice quivered with emotion over the idea that Gideon was Samuel and he’d been lying to me all along.
Or was I just so desperate to have Samuel back that I was willing to accuse a man who had done nothing but show a sincere interest in me of being my dead boyfriend?
It sounded so crazy. But I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in my gut that had been there since the first time I saw Gideon.
“Are you Samuel Tate?” I somehow managed to choke out as I showed him the zoomed-in image of the cigarette burns on Samuel’s body.
His brow furrowed, deepening the lines of worry etched on his face as he looked between me and my phone. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of panic in his expression, like an animal caught in a trap. But as he returned his eyes to mine, there was nothing but heartache and pain within.
“You think I’m your ex?” His voice was strained, evidencing how much my line of questioning hurt him. “Or perhaps that’s who you want me to be.”
He jumped out of the bed, his body coiled and tense. With swift and determined movements, he angrily yanked on his boxer briefs before stepping into his pants.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Imogene, but I’m not him.I just…” He pinched his lips together into a tight line as he dug his fingers through his hair in frustration. When he finally looked at me again, defeat swirled in his blue eyes.
“I care about you, Imogene. More than I ever thought I would. I’m trying so damn hard to be understanding of your past, but this…” He shook his head as he tugged on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. His stare held a mixture of sadness and pity as it met mine. “I want to be with someone who wants to be with me.” He gestured down his torso. “Scars and all. Not with someone who wishes I were someone else.”
He abruptly spun on his heels and stormed out of the bedroom, his footfalls heavy as he made his way out of my townhouse. The door slammed shut behind him, the reverberations filling the sudden silence that now surrounded me.
Several seconds ticked by as I stared into space, listening as his car hummed to life outside.
Every fiber of my being screamed for me to chase after him. To apologize and beg for forgiveness. Explain I was just confused by everything I’d learned over the past few hours.
But something held me back, an invisible force keeping me frozen in place.
So instead of going after him and apologizing for my irrational behavior, I collapsed onto my bed, my only company that of my dog and the lingering presence of Samuel’s ghost that I feared would haunt me for the rest of my days.