Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Grant
It makes no sense, but Sam is even more beautiful than the last time I saw her.
Maybe it’s thanks to settling in even more. Her shoulders aren’t wound as tight as they were those first few weeks, and I noticed last week the donut disappeared and an actual car tire replaced it, so she was feeling secure enough to spend that money.
Never would I imagine not lightly grazing my fingers along someone’s wrist to be a test of will, but here I am, willfully resisting touching her because friends don’t caress friends’ skin.
Maybe the rules of friendship should be examined, because what a shame, right?
“How are you?” she asks, her body language welcoming enough.
She’s not shut down, and even though we’ve hardly seen each other, I don’t think she’s avoiding me. It’s simply been a busy time for both of us, and we’ve been ships in the night.
“I’m good. You? How have you been? How’s Mr. Bingley? How’s work?” Too much! Way too much!
A smile flashes, but she reels it back in. “All good. I think I figured out how he was getting out. The screen on one of the windows I like to leave open sometimes has a tear in it he must’ve found.”
“I’ll get that fixed. I can come over tomorrow and take measurements, make sure I get the right thing.” I don’t sound too eager, do I?
“Sure. I actually have tomorrow off so any time works. Or, if you’d rather come when I’m out, I—”
“I’m good to come whenever you want.” But I’d prefer she be there.
She twists her fingers together. “Then come tomorrow.”
Our gazes connect again and I’m not sure who moves, or if it’s an unseen force urging us into one another, but we’re closer than we were. She sways toward me, almost like she tripped, and my hand settles at her waist to steady her.
“Sorry.” It’s a breathless whisper.
“Never.”
She shakes her head, not understanding my meaning.
I’m not communicating. I’ve devolved to one-word responses as my brain melts down over the warm, solid feel of her under the layer of cotton between my hand and her skin.
I want to slip underneath and feel her warmth more vividly.
I want to lean in and press my mouth to her thundering pulse. To her lips.
But I won’t be saying or doing any of that. So I clarify.
“You never have to apologize to me.”
Her lashes flutter and her plush lips part. I’ve never understood the concept of hanging on someone’s words, but I get it now. I’m suspended in this moment in time, waiting for whatever syllables she’ll string together.
I’m rapt.
“Alrighty everyone! Dinner!” Ma hollers from the kitchen as she parades into the dining room with a roast chicken on a platter in both hands.
Sam and I, we don’t startle or jump back. We move like complimentary magnets, sticking, clinging, holding fast until the rising din of the room pulls us apart.
She gets swept up by May and Finn, who insist she sit between them. Dec catches my eye and raises that right brow which speaks more words than he ever does. He knows about our decision to be friends, and he must’ve seen our moment just now.
Is that what it was? A moment?
How did it feel like a small eternity and the most fleeting seconds of my life in one fell swoop? How did she manage to make time slow down and speed up at once?
I take a break in the bathroom to settle myself.
Reality is, I like her. I want to be with her.
But she’s not there. It’s probably for the best, because I don’t even know if I can be what she needs.
What she deserves. I’d never been with someone serious until Michelle, and that clearly tanked.
I don’t know if I’m made up of the stuff Sam should be partnered with.
And frankly, she may not ever be ready to date.
If she gets there, she’s certainly not on the hook to date only me. And I know I’m not built to share.
Still. It hasn’t stopped the longing.
Deciding to be friends didn’t kill our chemistry. That doesn’t mean I’m getting a green light. Nothing has changed since I took the risk and she shut it down. I don’t blame her one bit, and I respect her decision.
I need to be more overtly respectful of it, though, which means no more touching. Or looking at her lips. Or her perfect ass.
Or her mesmerizing eyes, for that matter.
Generally, I need to get a grip.
By the time I return to the dining room, everyone’s seated and passing platters and bowls of food piled with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, glazed carrots, and rolls, and the conversation is buzzing with electricity.
“When did you hear that?” Eirinn asks Finn.
Davis sits rigidly next to her, his demeanor extremely unusual since he tends to be laid back. He’s not engaging in the conversation at all, and I make a note to check in with him. I need to ask him about Sam’s ex and that phone call being a violation of her order of protection, too.
“Hear what?” Da settles in his spot at the head of one end of the table and leans in to kiss my mom’s cheek.
If he’s listening to Finn’s explanation, you wouldn’t know it. His attention is on my mom and he’s whispering something with this soft look on his face.
“That Gus is getting out and coming home in the next few months. Not sure when he starts his terminal leave but should be pretty soon.” He glances at Sam, who’s looking at May, who seems frozen in her spot with a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to her mouth.
She lowers her hand and reaches for her water, chugging half the glass before she says, “When?”
If there were any eyes not on her, they’re focused in her direction now.
“By July first, I heard. He’s supposed to call me this week.” Finn’s jovial, his brows arched high and grinning. And of course he would be. His best friend is coming home after years away.
But May… her reaction is notable. She always ran after Finn and Gus, and they’d all been friends. She’s not quite two years younger than Finn and I think Gus is close.
“Well, that’s wonderful news. We’ll have a homecoming for him, of course! You let us know when and we’ll do it up for a big welcome home celebration.” Ma claps her hands together and Da beams.
Everyone chimes in to give their ideas, and I’m reminded what a big part of our lives Gus was.
He and his family had a falling out when he was seventeen, so he even lived with us for the last year of his and Finn’s senior year of high school.
I was in the Army by then, as was Mac. Eirinn was either in school or just starting her time on active duty with the Air Force, and Dec was at college, but May, Finn, and Gus made up a little makeshift family that year.
It makes sense to welcome him home.
I’m glad he’s getting out and I’ll be eager to hear about his time. We didn’t cross paths much, but I know he did well for himself. And I’ll look forward to hearing what he has planned for life post-military.
But I can practically taste the longing coming from my parents’ end of the table. The wistful hope that we knew when Mac would be back.
I can’t fix the broken feelings that pop up whenever we think of missing Mac, but I can hunt him down and talk to him.
If I can get him to answer the phone, maybe he’ll clue me in to his plan so I can at least convey that, whatever it might be.
I’ll check in with May, too, and see if Davis has a free day for lunch, as well.
Life is busy enough, but it hasn’t been busy enough to keep from wanting something I can’t have with Sam. So it’s time to get focused on my family—the people I do have, and whom I love most in the world—and that should help.
I should be doing more for them, anyway. And prioritizing my family will help me stop daydreaming about a woman I might not even be the right match for.
It’s got to.