Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sam
One second, we’re watching Parks and Rec, the next, Grant Ryan is kissing me.
And it’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced.
One of his hands cradles my head and he inches closer, slowly enough I could move or stop this at any point, but I don’t. And I won’t.
Then his lips brush mine. Once, twice, such light, soft touches, like he’s asking. Is this okay? Do you want this, too?
If I’d let myself imagine kissing Grant, I would’ve guessed he’d be demanding.
Bossy and a little gruff, even in his kisses.
But that wouldn’t be taking in the whole picture of the man.
That would be forgetting how he’s a gentle, thoughtful dad, and appears to be a conscientious brother, son, and even sheriff.
In the wake of our conversation and his pushing me to tell him some of the ugliest parts of my recent past, he’s not demanding he be my now or my future.
He’s letting me decide, and I wonder if I have ever wanted anything more. If I’ve ever been offered the chance, to be honest. And honestly, I want to take this chance. With the lack of demand, it frees me to forget I’m determined to not get wrapped up in someone, and to simply enjoy the moment.
So I lean in, then open to him as he deepens the kiss with confidence and just enough need, it sends a thrill through me.
But too quickly, that thrill turns to cement in my chest, hardening over all the moving parts of me to freeze everything in place as the voice that has kept me in line cuts through all the longing and pleasure and desire.
What are you doing? How can you trust him? How can you possibly trust yourself? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t do this again?
“I’m sorry.” His words are a breath, and he leans back, worried eyes studying me. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
I, for some horrid reason, am instantly on the verge of tears, and I know he can see this because there is agony in his eyes when he sees me swipe at one eye.
“I’ll go. This is on me. I’m…” He shakes his head and his jaw flexes. “I’m so damn sorry.”
He’s up and out of my space in seconds, not just off the couch but gently closing the door behind him and leaving altogether like he assumes I need that. And part of me does.
But part of me needs a minute to collect my thoughts and maybe someone to talk it through with.
That healing, growing version of Sam who is begging to be trusted.
That girl wants to think through the gut response to something so good and pleasing.
That girl wants to have someone tell her it’s okay to want things, and it’s okay to trust a man who is demonstrably good.
Someone who, not an hour ago, she was marveling at for being so good.
That woman wants to clarify for herself that this—any of this with Grant—is not doing anything again, because he is different.
I don’t think goodness is the litmus test most people use when deciding whether they like someone. Attraction and affection come from other places, and of course that’s true for me with Grant.
But when someone has betrayed you, has hurt you, there’s no escaping the desire to find a person who would simply never do that.
When I left Andrew, I felt certain I wouldn’t find someone I could trust and be certain of.
In theory, most people around us are not violent. Most people don’t abuse others.
I didn’t stop kissing Grant because I’m afraid of him. I stopped kissing him because I’m programmed to mistrust myself, and relearning how to is, evidently, not just a matter of a change of scene.
Mr. Bingley headbutts into my arm, and I pull him into my lap. His purr starts up and I breathe through the frustration with myself, and even with Grant.
Did he have to kiss me tonight? After I felt so raw?
He did give you ample opportunity to say no.
My internal voice is not helping me. And I’m not sure I can chat about this with May. We’ve only had surface-level conversations, and it seems weird to deepen our friendship by asking her how I should’ve responded when her brother kissed me.
Yeah… no. Not great.
But Evie. Evie will give me an honest perspective. She’ll understand in a way I’m very happy to suspect May cannot because she’s not been hurt in the ways we have.
So despite the temptation to hunker down, binge TV, and ignore the mess of feelings gnawing at me, I text Evie to see if she has time to chat.
“You think he saw you crying?”
Evie is sliding Charlie’s arms into a giant, adorable puffy coat.
The March air has warmed up a touch compared to when I first arrived, but it’s still pretty cold in the mornings.
She and Charlie walk to work at the clinic since it’s only a few blocks away from her adorable apartment, so they get nice and bundled.
She couldn’t come to me last night, and I didn’t dare chance my donut popping on the way to see her once it got dark, so she invited me to come over before work today. Bless her. I don’t know if I could’ve made it through an entire shift without having at least some outlet for what happened.
“I know he did. And I hate that he did. I wasn’t crying because he kissed me. I was crying because…” I’d been over it so many times.
“Because you wanted to want it. And part of you did. But you’re scared.”
I make a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “I mean, yeah.” My gaze narrows. “Have you experienced something similar?”
“No. Definitely not. But I’ve felt some of that even with my little crush on the man who will not be named.”
I chuckle at that, then take Charlie from her arms so she can load up her bag with her lunch, then his bag with the things he needs.
“Okay, we ready?” She locks the door behind her, and we head out onto the street.
When I left this morning to come to town, the sun was starbursting over top of the mountains and lighting everything in a warm, hopeful glow.
I’m relieved it’s a sunny day because I need the atmospheric boost. I want to feel all that good energy, absorb it into me and then let it beam out on all the wonderful people I’ve met here.
But I’m starting to suspect that maybe I’m not ready for that. At least not fully. That maybe, I need to work on directing some of that light back into myself, to let myself heal, so I really can reflect it out more genuinely.
“I need to talk to him. I’m just not sure what to say.”
We’re walking at a snail’s pace, each holding one of Charlie’s hands as he toddles his way to school.
He’s wobbly and drooling as he grins wide, balancing between us.
It’s adorable, and if I needed a sign that my fractured heart is healing again, I can feel it in this moment with this sweet little family.
“You do. And based on what you’ve said, he’ll have some things to say, too. I’m not sure you need a script in place. But I get wanting to have a plan—Hey! Hi. Happy Monday, Dr. Ryan.”
We halt at the corner, and the good doctor is approaching from down the opposite street.
“Good morning, Evie. Ms. Ellis.” His blue gaze dips to Charlie. “And you, little man.” Then this rather formal person drops into a crouch and Charlie stumble-walks right into his arms. Declan accepts his hug, his eyes squeezing shut as he embraces the baby, who then smacks him on his cheek.
He laughs softly, so much affection and joy on his face… it’s transformative. Like, whoa. This guy is good-looking, but looking at Charlie like that?
I glance at Evie to see her melting. She’s a fat scoop of vanilla sliding off a waffle cone in the heat of the midday July sun.
Then I watch as Declan stands, gently hands Charlie to Evie and gives her what I would classify as a searing look, then plucks the heavy bag containing Evie’s lunch, water, and coffee, out of her hands, dips his chin, and walks away.
We stand and watch him go, striding with military precision toward his office while Charlie jabbers away, making babble and lots of “D-D-D” sounds.
I slowly turn to Evie. “So.”
Her cheeks are deep red. “Come on. We’ve got to get Charlie to school.”
“You realize I’m not going to pretend that didn’t just happen?” I speak quietly because enough people are out milling around, including parents dropping off kids at the little preschool nestled right into the downtown area housed in another old stone church.
“He offered one day. Seemed to think I was wilting under the weight of my stuff, and he took it to work for me. I was frazzled enough, I didn’t refuse.
And then the next day, he did it again. Didn’t even ask.
He intercepted me, I tried to say it was fine, he didn’t have to, and he said, ‘I know I don’t.
’ And he has never once failed to be there and take my bag in to work while I drop off Charlie. ”
It takes a minute to absorb this because it’s just so… honestly, it strikes me as such a Ryan family trait. “I think their family motto might be ‘kind and bossy in equal measure.’”
Evie’s big laugh makes me grin, and I can’t help joining in when Charlie starts laughing, too. Evie holds him close and smothers his little face with kisses, and my heart lightens another few shades.
Watching them pushes at the bruise of the last few hours, or maybe the last few years. I’ve been so certain about what I won’t do, but that’s all based in fear. It’s all grown out of the rotten soil left when Andrew plucked out every flower of hope I ever grew.
Not anymore. The one thing I won’t do? I won’t stay fearful. I’ll work on trusting myself and to do that, I need to know myself.
To do that, I think I know what I need.
I don’t know exactly what I’ll say to Grant, but I’m determined to find him today and at least try. I can be that brave, at least.