Chapter 9
Sam woke to the unfamiliar sound of laughter drifting up the stairs from the main house. For a moment, she lay frozen on the pull-out sofa, disoriented by the comfort of a warm place to sleep. Bella stirred beside her, raising her head and cocking an ear toward the door.
“Just people being happy,” she whispered, the words strange in her mouth. “Nothing to worry about.”
But worry was Sam’s default setting, honed through years of disappointment and survival.
Three days had passed since she’d gotten sick at the drugstore, since Christina and her mom had opened their home to her.
Three days of warm meals, hot showers, and sideways glances that made Sam’s skin crawl with the certainty that at any moment, they’d realize their mistake and ask her to leave.
She pulled on a clean sweatshirt that was soft and smelled faintly of lavender detergent. It had been great to do laundry without having to pay, especially since she was down to eleven dollars. Bella padded to the door, her nails clicking against the wooden floor, and looked back expectantly.
“Yeah, I know. You need to go out,” Sam muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair. She glanced at her phone—7:15 AM. Too early to face people, but Bella’s needs always came first.
Opening the door cautiously, she went down the stairs and peered out.
The main house glowed with warmth, windows illuminated against the early morning light.
She caught movement inside. Tara was at the kitchen counter and a man was setting the table, like something out of a Hallmark movie, the kind she used to watch through apartment windows when she sought refuge on chilly nights.
She slipped outside with Bella, the cold morning air stinging her cheeks, frosting her breath with each exhale.
The frost crunched beneath her shoes, such a difference from the sticky humidity of Florida she was used to.
Bella bounded ahead, her joy infectious as she reveled in the open space and the freedom to explore.
“Stay close,” she called softly, watching her dog sniff excitedly at the base of a pine tree, where the scent of earth and decomposing leaves mingled in the crisp air.
“She won’t go far.”
Sam whirled around to find Ryan standing a few feet away, Angus at his side. He wore a heavy flannel jacket and a knit cap pulled low over his ears, his nose pink from the cold.
“Sorry,” he said, as she took a step back. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. We do this every morning, walk the perimeter, I call it. Makes me feel like I’m on patrol or something.”
Sam relaxed just a bit, though her heart still hammered in her chest. “I needed to let Bella out.”
Ryan nodded, his eyes kind but not pitying—something Sam appreciated more than he could know. “Want to join us? Angus likes the company, and I could use someone to talk to who isn’t obsessed with squirrels.”
Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched. “Bella’s the same way. Anything that moves is fair game.”
They fell into step together, the dogs racing ahead and circling back, their energy infectious in the crisp morning air.
The property was larger than Sam had realized, stretching down to the lake’s edge where a small dock extended into the still water.
The air smelled of pine and wood smoke, and the thought that maybe even though she hadn’t found the family her mom thought might be here, maybe she could make a life here. Get a job, a little place of her own.
“This is the best part,” he said as they reached the shoreline. “Watch.”
The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains, painting the sky in strokes of pink and gold that reflected on the lake’s surface. It was breathtaking, the kind of view people paid good money to see, and here it was, free for anyone who bothered to look.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Sam admitted, her defenses momentarily forgotten. The view over the ocean was spectacular, but this was different, quieter. And quiet was what she needed.
“Neither did I before I came here,” he said as he threw a stick for the dogs. “I grew up in Seattle. Lots of water, but not like this. Not so... peaceful.”
Chapter 9 Revision - Ryan’s Backstory Section
Here’s the revised conversation where Ryan refers back to what he already shared in Chapter 6:
Sam glanced at him, curious despite her better judgment. “How’d you end up here?”
Ryan’s expression shifted, a shadow crossing his face. “I told you about my mom, remember? The shooting in Seattle?”
Sam nodded, her stomach tightening at the memory of their conversation at the drugstore. She’d been so sick that day, but she remembered the pain in his voice when he’d shared that story.
“After that, everything fell apart. No way was I going into foster care, not after some of the stories I’d heard.
” He shrugged. “I told you about my dad and Miami. Christina needed a change, so we came here.” He threw another stick for the dogs, who bounded after it.
“I got lucky. Found a family who actually wanted me.”
The implication hung in the air between them, that Sam might find the same. She bristled instinctively, her mind fighting against the hope trying to take root.
“I don’t need a family,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m fine on my own.”
He didn’t argue, just nodded. “I said the same thing when I first met Christina. For what it’s worth, I was wrong.”
They continued walking in silence, the dogs playing tag through the frost-covered grass. Sam thought of her own parents, of that awful night she’d left everything behind, of the uncertain future stretching before her.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said after a while. “But if you ever want to, I’m a pretty good listener. And I don’t judge. Can’t afford to, with my background.”
Sam almost smiled at that. “Thanks, but my story isn’t exactly heartwarming.”
“Neither is mine,” Ryan countered. “That’s kind of the point.”
By the time they circled back to the house, the smell of coffee and something sweet wafted through the air. Christina stood on the porch, wrapped in a fluffy robe, her honey-blonde hair piled messily on top of her head.
“There you are!” she called. “Breakfast is almost ready. I made blueberry waffles. Sam, thanks for doing the laundry.”
Christina smiled, and for once Sam didn’t wonder what this person might want in exchange.
Very matter of factly, Christina added, “I had some extra leggings and sweatshirts, I put them on the sofa with your things. Nothing fancy, just some things that might fit.”
She tensed, the familiar feeling of being indebted making her stomach knot. “You didn’t have to do that.”
But Ryan’s sister waved her hand dismissively. “I have way too many clothes anyway. Consider it recycling.” She turned toward the little cottage.
“Come on, we’re all eating together.” She rolled her eyes. “Emily swears the baby likes us all being around.”
Inside, the kitchen buzzed with activity. Tara stood at the counter, pulling out silverware, while a pregnant woman Sam recognized as Emily sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of what smelled like herbal tea.
“You must be Sam,” she said, her smile warm. “I’m Emily, Ryan’s sister-in-law.”
“Nice to meet you,” she mumbled, feeling awkward and out of place where no one stumbled around drunk or high, where everything was clean and there weren’t roaches in the drawers, and where she didn’t have to worry about someone cornering her in the bathroom.
“Sit, sit,” Tara urged, setting a plate stacked with the waffles Christina made on the table. “Everyone needs breakfast, especially in this cold.”
Sam hesitated, but Ryan nudged her forward, taking a seat himself. “My sister’s blueberry waffles are legendary,” he said. “Trust me on this one.” He turned to Emily. “Where’s Evan? Do we need to save him some waffles?”
Tara laughed, answering first. “He and Will went to Hendersonville to deliver a linen press Will made for a client.”
“More for me.” Ryan grinned.
Trust. Such a simple word, yet so loaded. She sat cautiously, Bella settling at her feet beneath the table where Angus had already claimed a warm spot.
“So, Sam,” Tara began conversationally as she joined them, “Christina mentioned you’re from Florida originally?”
Sam nodded, focusing on cutting her pancakes into precise squares. “Key west, but I moved around a lot. Miami was the last place.”
“I lived there for years,” Tara said. “It’s a beautiful city, but I don’t miss the humidity.”
“Or the traffic,” Christina added, pouring coffee for everyone except Emily.
“Or the noise,” Emily chimed in. “I visited once and couldn’t sleep with all the noise and people out and about all hours of the day and night.”
Sam found herself relaxing bit by bit as they chatted, their conversation flowing naturally around her without demanding her participation.
They didn’t press for details about her life, didn’t ask the questions that would have sent her running.
Instead, they included her in their ordinary morning routine as if she belonged there.
After breakfast, Emily asked if Sam would help her fold the baby clothes that had just been washed. It was clearly a ploy to talk to her alone, but Sam found she didn’t mind. There was something soothing about Emily’s presence, a gentleness that didn’t feel threatening.
They settled in the living room, a basket of tiny onesies and socks between them, Christmas music playing on the radio.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Emily confessed, holding up a complicated-looking swaddle blanket. “I’ve read all the books, but they make it sound so easy. Fold here, tuck there. But in reality?” She laughed, the sound light and self-deprecating.
She took the blanket from her, folding it with practiced ease. “Like this,” she demonstrated.
Emily watched, impressed. “You’ve done this before?”
“I used to babysit. For neighbors, when I was younger.” Sam shrugged, reaching for another item.
It wasn’t the whole truth. She’d practically raised her neighbor’s baby while the mother worked double shifts, all while Sam’s own parents were too high to notice she was gone. But that wasn’t a story for this cozy living room with its Christmas decorations and family photos.
“Well, you’re a natural,” Emily said. “Maybe you can teach me a few things. I’m terrified I’m going to break her when she arrives.”
“You won’t,” Sam assured her, surprising herself with her certainty. “It’s instinct, mostly. And babies are tougher than they look.”
They worked in companionable silence for a while, the pile of neatly folded clothes growing between them. Fog rolled in across the lake, wrapping the cottage in cotton.
“I know what it’s like,” Emily said suddenly, her voice quiet. “To feel like you don’t belong anywhere.”
Sam’s hands stilled on the tiny sweater she was folding.
“When I first came here, I was running away,” Emily continued.
“From my marriage falling apart, from feeling invisible in my own life. Evan was working himself to death, chasing promotions, and I was tired of coming second to his career. And then the shooting at my local grocery store happened. It was the final straw.” Her hand rested protectively on her belly.
“I told him I wanted to move here, to be near family, to give our daughter a different kind of life. He fought me every step of the way.”
“What changed?” Sam asked, unable to help herself.
Emily smiled softly. “He finally realized what he was about to lose. But it took time, and there were moments I wasn’t sure we’d make it.
He’s still having trouble figuring out who he’s supposed to be, but at least he’s here.
” She looked directly at Sam. “The point is, I was ready to start over completely. I was prepared to raise this baby alone rather than stay in a situation that was slowly killing both of us.”
She looked down, blinking against the sudden sting in her eyes. “It’s not easy.”
“No,” Emily agreed. “It’s the hardest thing in the world, actually.
But sometimes, running toward something better is the bravest choice you can make.
” She reached across the pile of baby clothes and squeezed Sam’s hand briefly.
“No pressure. Just... know that there’s room for you here, with all of us, if you want it. ”