23. Sam
TWENTY-THREE
Sam
I took the long route and turned right out of my place. Normally, I go north on my beach run, but this afternoon, I went south to avoid Cole’s house. Not because I thought I’d see him. I just didn’t want to risk it.
The tide’s gone out, leaving wide, hard-packed sand that’s good for clearing my head, even if it's hard on my knees.
My calves burn, and sweat drips down the curve of my spine. The rhythm of a long afternoon run helps. I let the crash of waves and the crunch of my footsteps drown out everything else as music drones on mindlessly.
When I finally hit the familiar dune break, I slow to a walk and drag in a breath. My chest rises and falls as I make my way back toward my stairs. Satisfyingly, my toes curl into the soft sand as I move closer to my house.
I stop at the base and lean forward, hands on my knees. The wind whips across my back as I stretch out my hamstrings. They are tight, and the pull through my legs is a good pain.
My ponytail is damp from the hard run and flipped over my head as I continue to bend deeply into my stretch. Beads of sweat drip into the sand, making little sand balls.
My phone buzzes in the zipper pouch on my running shorts. I tug it out and pause the music. Don’t Take the Money by Bleachers is still mid-chorus, echoing in my head as I swipe to check the screen.
There’s a missed call from Arden. Shit, right. I need to call her back.
I pull my right knee to my chest and hold the stretch.
A drink sounds good. So does not being alone, and not sitting here wondering what my neighbor is doing.
I hope Arden isn't in the middle of some PR mess and is free. I need her to clean me up right now.
I head up the steps and tap her name, lifting the phone to my ear.
"Sam."
“Hey. Sorry I didn’t call you back earlier. I needed a run.”
“As you know, I only run when being chased by a bear, which is never, so I don't understand the need for a run. But I know this is something you do, so I respect it.”
I smile and take a seat on the bottom step and stare out across the water. “Please tell me you're in town. I need a diversion.”
"Is that all I am to you?"
"No, of course not. So, are you here or not?"
“For you, always. What do you want to do? I'm at your service.”
“I need a drink. Away from here.”
“Swifty’s?”
“Swifty’s works.”
Immediately, I picture us there the other night. That table he hand-picked, perfectly situated to hear and see the band, but not too close to drown us out. And that heat, the way he looked at me like I was his.
It's probably a bad choice. But I need to claim it back, make Swifty's mine again.
“Can you give me thirty minutes? I’ll jump in the shower, but I can be quick.”
“Sure, I'm sitting on go. I'll meet you in thirty.”
I hang up and slide the door open. The blast of AC hits me hard, slicing through the sticky warmth still clinging to my skin. Goosebumps rise instantly, a full-body jolt after the heat.
The breeze lifts the edges of the cocktail napkins, and Arden slaps her hand over hers before it flies off the table.
"I still can’t believe I missed the Dave Matthews cover band. I’ve been talking about that night all summer,” Arden says as she picks up her drink.
“You didn’t miss much,” I lie.
She lifts a brow. “You’re going to downplay it now? You told me it was amazing. You were practically cooing on the phone.”
It had nothing to do with the venue or the set list.
I look down at my glass. “It was a good night. That much is true. I just meant they didn't play all of our favorite late-nineties and early naughts hits.”
Arden settles back in her chair and takes a sip. “You two had a connection. I'm glad I got to have that time with you and him on your deck the night before. I'm proud of you for giving that to yourself. Everyone needs a hot and heavy, short affair.”
“It was always temporary. We both knew that.”
“I know. It's just too bad it ended like it did. It would have been much better if he rode his private jet off into the sunset after an amazing week or two weeks. How long has it been?"
"Ten days." But who's counting?
"Oh, right. Anyway, now it's all tainted with all of this drama, and that bites ass.”
I don’t answer. Not out loud. She’s right. We were good when the rest of the world wasn’t creeping in, when it was just music and skin and whatever that feeling was that made it hard to walk away.
"Let's change the subject."
"Ahh. So this is the distraction you said you needed."
"You won't believe why my dad called me earlier," I say, pushing my drink aside.
Arden leans forward, eyebrows raised. "Oh god. I'm bracing myself. With your dad, it could be anything. Is he marrying Hattie?"
"Worse. He basically told me I had to stop sleeping with Cole."
Arden's hand flies to her mouth, eyes wide. "What? How does he?—"
She looks around and lowers her voice. "How does he know you've been sleeping with Cole? And since when does your father tell you who you can and can't sleep with? You're twenty-six, for god's sake."
I rub my temples. "It's about the board and hospital employee ethical dilemma. He said it could jeopardize my career and affect matters of the board."
"Shit, I guess that is true, if people know." She takes a long sip of her drink.
"Right."
"How did he find out?"
“He approached Cole after the board meeting. Caught him completely off guard. And Cole didn't deny it. Just stood there like a deer in headlights."
"What a shit show." Arden swirls her drink.
"Understatement."
"So, how did the talk with Cole go? Did you end up going over there like you planned?"
I nod, staring at the condensation forming on my glass.
"It was tense. I bit his head off for not nipping the sex question in the bud with my dad.
But eventually I smoothed things over, for the most part.
I thanked him for trying a last-ditch effort to stop the vote," I trace a pattern in the water droplets.
"Sounds like a tidy way to close things. Is he still leaving on Saturday?" Arden studies my face.
"I asked him about that. He said he was supposed to, but now that the vote is over, he'll probably leave tomorrow." My voice catches slightly.
"Shit."
"Yeah, he literally said nothing is keeping him here anymore."
"Ouch. That's a stab to the heart."
"It's reality." I shrug, trying to seem casual.
"True."
I don't say anything as a lump rises in my throat.
Arden tilts her head. "Maybe he said that to see if you wanted him to stay."
The question hits me harder than I expect. Did he? Was that some kind of opening? The image flashes in my mind of Cole standing there, waiting for me to say something, anything to make him reconsider. The way his eyes held mine just a beat too long before I turned away.
I shake my head a little too quickly. “No. Absolutely not. That would be a disaster. This is best, even if he was fishing for a specific reaction. ”
Arden raises an eyebrow, already unconvinced. “A disaster?You sure? Sounds more like you’re trying to protect yourself.”
“Asking him to stay any longer than he has to is a colossally bad idea. Like, full-on emotional avalanche bad.”
Arden leans back on the couch, arms crossed. “Not convinced, but what's one day, anyway?”
“He needs to go.”
She doesn't respond. I guess she's made her case. For some reason, I'm compelled to make her understand. Or am I trying to convince myself?
"Once he’s gone, maybe I can finally settle back down. You know, go back to my normal, boring life. Quiet, predictable. Surgery rounds, endless hours of charting, double espresso shots just to remember what year it is. That’s what I need.”
She gives me a look that I know well. “Sounds thrilling.”
Tomorrow is best. Clean break. No lingering goodbyes or false promises.
So why does the thought of him leaving make it hard to breathe?
By the time I'm home and I've done every chore I can think of, the house is spotless and quiet. Yet somehow, sleep still eludes me.
I lay my scrubs out for tomorrow, take a shower, and slip into my comfy sweats and a hoodie. Stepping onto the deck, I close the sliding door behind me.
The air hangs thick, even this late. It smells like salt and the faint sweetness of the sea oats near the dunes.
I take the stairs down and walk toward the water. The tide is high, so I don’t need to go far. I let the water tickle my toes. The full moon makes the tiny specks in the wet sand sparkle .
After a moment of digging my toes into the sand, something I've done since I was a kid, I turn back toward my house.
His house is just to the right of mine, one deck over.
It's close enough to hit with a well-thrown shell, which makes it incredibly dangerous on a night like tonight, when I'm feeling weak.
I keep my pace slow as I head back to my steps.
His deck is empty, his patio furniture tucked in. There's no glass on the rail, no movement.
Only one window glows inside the house, a low lamp in the front room, casting just enough light to see the shape of the sofa. A sofa I know intimately.
I pause. My hands rest loosely at my sides. No fists, no tension. Just stillness.
I wait longer than I mean to, giving him every chance to appear. To step outside. To look down and see me standing here.
He doesn’t.
Eventually, I look away.
I walk back toward my stairs without checking over my shoulder. It’s better this way. I know it. He leaves tomorrow. Or maybe he’s already gone.
Back on my deck, I lean against the rail for a minute. His house sits quiet beside mine, a little darker now from this view.
I step inside and shut the door behind me. No more checking windows. No more late-night walks. No more waiting for someone who’s already packed a bag.
I lock up, rinse a glass at the sink, and kill the kitchen light.
Tomorrow, I’ll be at the hospital before sunrise.
And maybe by then, this won’t feel like something I lost.
It will just be something that I passed through.