Chapter 22
SAM
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the possibility of making things worse, not better.
“As you know, Holly was in a car accident when she was fifteen. Our parents were at a fundraising event in Portland. I had a football game. Holly had just made the cheer squad. I brought her to the game and was supposed to take her home afterward. We won a major rivalry against Mountain High. Our QB, Evan, was throwing a bonfire at his house that night to celebrate. I texted Holly to get a ride home with the neighbor, Mrs. Smith. She had plenty of times before. She gave me a thumbs up.”
I take a deep breath to settle myself before continuing.
“I was at the bonfire, reliving the highlights of the game, when I got a call from an unknown number. I almost didn’t answer it, but when I did, it was Mandy.
She was hysterical, talking about broken glass everywhere, bleeding, Holly not responding, and that I had to get to St. Sebastian’s hospital right away.
“I drove at record speed and rushed through the hospital doors, trying to find her room. What I saw …” I close my eyes, trying to unsee the image burned in my brain.
“Was Holly, machines attached to every surface of her body, swollen face, doctors working around her, and a hysterical Mandy and her dad.
“I never told you about this, I hate talking about the accident, as you can imagine.” I blow out a breath, looking up to gather my thoughts. Becca patiently waits for me to continue, not rushing me.
“Turns out when I texted Holly to get a ride home with the Smiths, she read it out loud. Mandy told her she would be happy to take her home, and Holly jumped on it. Holly doesn’t remember the accident, but Mandy says that she swerved to hit a deer and went off the road into the ditch.”
I pause, looking away for a moment, “Mandy says, but I have never let myself fully question that until now. With her Dad cutting her off now … something doesn’t seem right.
” I look back at Becca, getting back on track.
“If I had taken her home, she would have never lost a year of her life in high school.
I was too damn selfish, only wanting to hang out with my friends instead of taking care of my sister.
“Once I got there, I had to call my parents. It took them four and a half hours to make the drive, and I hardly blinked, staring at Holly’s monitors, trying to get them to make sense.
When Dad saw her for the first time, I could tell something inside of him broke.
He looked at me and said, ‘Where were you, son? Why weren’t you there for your sister? ’
“Once I explained the situation, that she was supposed to ride home with the neighbors, Dad shook his head like he was disgusted with me. He said, ‘if you had been there, made her the priority like she should have been, she wouldn’t be here.’”
Becca’s jaw drops slightly, then she quickly composes herself, nodding for me to continue. I rub my eyes with my thumbs and drop my head, breathing through the painful memories.
“So, I was there. I quit the rest of the football season and visited her every day after school until she got out. By the time baseball season came around, she practically pushed me away to go to practice. But I helped her with her physical therapy exercises. It was my senior year, and I felt horrible about going to U of O. She saw me on Cascadia Community College’s website one day and lit into me about it.
“I came home for the weekend after her sixteenth birthday.
She was healed and thriving in many ways.
When I brought up getting her license, she froze.
She never got behind the wheel unless Mom, Dad, or I was driving.
I spent the summer home from freshman year, giving her driving lessons daily.
She got her license on her first try and is the best driver I know.
“But still today, she won’t take an Uber or let someone drive her if she doesn’t fully trust them.
Taking her to the doctor’s appointment? I didn’t want to share her fears, but Holly’s car was in the shop, and Mandy was going to drive, and she started hyperventilating.
She texted me if I could go, and I just went. ”
I pause my rambling to collect my thoughts.
“None of this is an excuse; it was all my choices, and I chose wrong. If something is broken, I fix it. But I gave that to Holly, not you. Between my hero complex and guilt, I jumped at every sign of help she needed, still picturing the broken girl in the hospital.
“You were always the strong one. And I hate to say this, but I didn’t think you would leave. I know how wrong I was, and how bad that sounds.
“I love you, Becca, so damn much. And I know you loved me, for me, not what I could do for you, which felt rare for me. I loved our relationship; I felt we were so strong, steady, unbreakable. Like nothing could shake us. Turns out maybe nothing external, but I sure as hell could.”
I blow out a breath and look over at Becca. She is watching the water flow, taking in every word I say.
“I thought I could fix everything for everyone … and I didn’t stop to think about what it would cost you,” I admit, voice thick with emotion.
“You didn’t just give her money, Sam. You decided for both of us.” She stands, pacing back and forth. “That still doesn’t answer the question, why did you choose to make Holly’s dream come true now, and put mine on hold for another four plus years of savings?”
I'm feeling more like an idiot for my reasoning.
“When Holly and Mandy asked me to help with the salon, I said, 'Sure, no problem.’ At first, I thought they meant construction help, a project here or there. Then they brought in Rick, and I admit, I got a little starry-eyed.” I shake my head in disgust at myself.
“One thing led to another, Mandy mentioned how much I had saved up to build the cabin. Rick quoted that travel is down due to inflated gas prices, but beauty industry spending keeps soaring.”
Becca’s jaw tenses slightly, and she looks away. But I keep going, needing to get this out.
“He kept talking about this great spot, how he knew lumber would be going down in the next year or so anyway, and he had other investments he could line me up with that would get our money back in under a year.
“I fell for his sleazy salesman act, I know. It doesn’t justify what I did. It just explains why I didn’t see it clearly.” I move without thinking about it, dropping down in front of her, hands settling on her knees.
Her breath catches—barely there, but I feel it. God, I know this body. I know every shift, every tell.
My thumbs press lightly against her, grounding myself more than anything else. She’s right there, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her dress. Close enough that my body remembers things it has no business remembering right now.
I force myself to hold still. This isn’t the time. I need to get this next part out, even if it hurts.
“Becca, I did put your dream on hold for Holly. But it wasn’t because I thought hers was more important; it was because I knew she couldn’t do it without me, and you, baby? You can conquer the world, and I used that as an excuse not to show up for you the way I should have.”
She looks at me like I said something she’s been waiting years to hear and is furious it took this long. Then she turns away, eyes fixed on the water. “I … I need a minute.”
“Sure, of course. I know at the end of the agenda, you left time for Q&A.” I hold back my laugh as Becca fights her own smirk.
Damn, do I love my organized, mission-focused wife.
To lighten the mood, I hold up my phone and show a playlist. She nods.
We often sit together, doing our own thing, playing our favorite songs in the background.
I go to hit play, and instead of our song, my audiobook starts playing.
Something I found while searching the internet for anything that might help me win my woman back.
“Our next chapter on So You Fucked Up Your Relationship: How to Unfuck Yourself, Emotionally Speaking. We will be diving into what you broke, dipshit. You ruined her trust. How do you earn it back? Leader in relationship research, Dr. Rosencatz, tells us that:
‘Trust may have been given freely at first, but she won’t make that mistake again. If you want it back, you work for it. Twice as hard. And then some.’”
“What is that?” Becca questions.
Fuck. “Uh, that is an audiobook I’m listening to,” I say sheepishly as I try to turn it off.
“An audiobook … about relationships?” Becca asks with confusion in her tone.
“Yeah … I am good at building and fixing things, but when I don’t know something, I go and find an expert.
” I feel my cheeks redden as I continue.
“One night, after reading one of your business books, I got the idea that there must be one out there that can shed some light on my situation. This is my third so far that I have listened to.”
Becca softens, holding back a smile, but before she can respond, she gets a phone call. I see the screen, Holly?
She looks up at me, just as confused, but answers right away.
“Holly?” she tentatively answers.
“Hey, Becca, I know you’re probably getting off work soon, if not already. Would you happen to be near Dad’s office today? If not, we can schedule for another time.” It isn’t on speaker, but I can hear her clearly.
“Actually, yes, I’m near Mr. Hughes’s office. I can be there in fifteen.”
“Wonderful!” Holly exclaims, but pauses before continuing speaking, “I was, uh, going to call Sam, have this conversation all together.” Before Becca can respond, she rushes on, “But I can absolutely do two separate meetings, you don’t need to be in the same room as him, promise.”
Is Holly on Becca’s side? Ouch. Also, warmth spreads through me at my sister showing up for my wife.
“It’s fine. I’m with Sam now, and we will both head over.”
“Oh reaallllyyy?” Holly almost squeals back to Becca.
“See you in fifteen.” Becca hangs up and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. She looks up at me and asks, “Why do I have a feeling this isn’t a social call?”