Chapter 26
SAM
Iread the text and my blood runs cold.
“What the hell? Who sent that?” I demand, sitting up straighter and instinctively wrapping my arm around Becca’s waist, drawing her against me like I can shield her from the venom in that text.
She doesn’t lean away. Doesn’t say anything at first.
“I don’t know. It’s an unknown number, but … I have a hunch.” Her voice tightens. “I think it’s Rick.”
“Baby,” I say gently, “I want you out of anything that has to do with him. Seriously.” I swallow hard because the next part tastes like gravel. “I think he’s in bed with Yarrow Inc.”
Becca turns her head so fast I almost lose contact with her. Her eyes are wide.
“You’re kidding. Sam, those guys are dirty. My company denies anything even adjacent to them,” she exclaims.
“I think that house wasn’t just a sale to him,” I say, my jaw tightening.
“If he flipped it to the right group, like Yarrow, it could’ve been worth a hell of a lot more.
We’re talking millions, Becca. Not just with the sale of the development.
” I exhale slowly, trying to keep my voice even.
“He’s not texting because he’s interested,” I say.
“He’s texting because you took something off the table he thought he already had. ”
Becca blinks rapidly, holding back the tears she doesn’t want to fall.
“I know.” I cup her face gently, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “I’m handling it. I swear to you. I won’t let this ugliness touch you.”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “Too late for that,” she mutters.
Then, like flipping a switch, she shakes her head and stands.
“Fine. Handle it.” She turns from me, walks a few slow steps away from the truck bed, arms folded tight across her chest like she’s trying to hold something in—or hold something back. I follow, but I don’t crowd her.
Instead, I grab the wool blanket and drape it over her shoulders. She doesn’t pull away.
“I hate that the message scared you.” My voice is low, raw. “I hate that you got it at all.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then turns just enough for me to see her profile. “It didn’t scare me,” she lies.
I move in slowly, hand brushing along her arm, down to her fingers. “Don’t lie to me, baby. Not about this.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “I just … I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Like everything we’ve worked so hard for can be taken away in a blink. That’s how I’ve felt since I overheard your conversation—since I found out you gave away all our savings.”
Those words don’t just hurt; they snag in my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I force air in anyway.
“I know,” I say quietly. “And I know I’m the reason you feel that way.”
I step closer until my chest brushes her back, until her warmth seeps into me through the blanket and the thin cotton of her shirt.
“You were always the one thinking ahead. Protecting what we had. You created the savings plan, managing every dollar.” My hand settles lightly on her hip.
I sigh, not wanting to ruin the evening any more than I already have.
“Here.” I clear my throat. “Let’s listen to some music for a bit. Then you can try that chocolate cupcake I brought.”
Her head turns slightly, her mouth lifting at the corner. “You brought cupcakes too?”
“Just one,” I say, digging it out of the basket. “But it’s the big kind. You might even share a bite.”
She laughs, and something in my chest unclenches as I unwrap the sweet and hand it to her.
I go to play a playlist, but my audiobook starts again. The voice booms out:
“You realize you fucked up. That’s a good start.
But what are you doing to make up for it?
Not surface-level shit, dude. How are you taking care of her?
What are you changing fundamentally? Just because you didn’t mean to trample her trust doesn’t mean you didn’t.
If your family comes first, then you're failing. She’s your wife. That’s your person.”
I fumble to shut it off. Becca blinks, mid-bite. “More audiobook?”
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly, but then I stop myself.
That’s the old instinct—to keep it in, handle it alone.
But that’s part of what got us here. I sigh.
“It’s this new book. I’m trying to understand where I went wrong and how to fix it.
It’s helped me look deeper … at stuff I didn’t even realize I was carrying. ”
I sit down beside her, watching the shadows dance across her face in the flickering candlelight.
“I know the accident wasn’t my fault, but the guilt never faded. I went to every appointment. I tried to make her life easier. Even tolerated her best friend, just to make her smile.”
Becca raises an eyebrow, amused. “Tolerated is generous.”
“Yeah, well.” I force a smile. “I see now that my guilt blinded me. Holly doesn’t need me to carry her world. I just … I was prioritizing the wrong woman. It should’ve been you. It will always be you.”
She stares at me for a long beat, then breaks off a bite of cupcake. She leans on my shoulder as we both stare up at the starry sky, listening to the river babbling in the distance.
Her lips part, a slow smile forming as she licks a smudge of chocolate from her fingertip.
The night is quiet, stars scattered across the dark sky like they showed up just for us.
For a second, it almost feels normal again.
Like we didn’t break anything; we’re still trying to fix it.
And just like that, the shift happens—tension curling between us, humming beneath her soft breath and the way her knee brushes mine beneath the blanket.
The song changes, and the familiar first notes float through the speaker—our song.
“Dance with me, baby. Like we did on our wedding night,” I whisper.
Becca smiles and sets her cupcake down, licking frosting from her thumb as she stands. I take her hand, gently tugging her in. I guide her arms around my neck and slide mine around her waist, pulling her close.
In a low voice, I start singing against her ear—the song we claimed as ours the night we got married. The one about choosing her over the Northern Lights, the Eiffel Tower, every beautiful thing in the world.
My voice isn’t Rhett’s, but I mean every damn word.
She spins once beneath my hand, laughing as I pull her back in, singing the lyrics like a vow. The fire pit crackles nearby, but all I feel is the warmth of her body pressed against mine.
“I would die a happy man if this were my last moment on earth,” I murmur.
Her smile falters just a little—something softer, deeper, taking its place. She leans in, brushing her lips over my ear. “Baby, you’re my great escape,” she whispers, quoting the next line of the song.
She’s still in my arms when the music fades into something softer, slower. Neither of us moves right away. Her head rests against my chest, her breath evening out like she’s trying to steady herself—or maybe me.
I don’t let go; I can’t. My hand slides up her back, stopping just below her shoulder blades, like I’m afraid if I move too much, I’ll break whatever this is.
“Hey,” I murmur, coaxing her to look at me.
She tilts her head up and her eyes aren’t guarded like they usually are. Not fully open either. Somewhere in between.
I reach up, brushing a strand of hair back from her face, letting my fingers linger for just a second longer than necessary.
“I don’t expect you to trust me yet,” I add. “I just … I want the chance to show you I’m worth it again.”
She exhales slowly, her hand flattening against my chest like she’s feeling my heartbeat.
“I don’t know what this is yet,” she admits.
“Me neither,” I agree. “But I know I don’t want to rush past it.”
Her eyes flick up to mine again, and I can see something shift. Not trust or forgiveness. But a softening, a willingness I haven’t seen in too long.
She leans in first, just barely, her forehead brushing mine.
When I move closer, caressing her face, I wait.
“I still don’t fully trust you,” she admits, eyes flicking between mine and my mouth.
“You don’t have to. Just … don’t push me away if part of you still wants me.”
She exhales slowly. Then closes the distance.
My breath catches. I look down at her, unsure if she means it the way I hope she does. She steps back enough to lock those hazel eyes on mine.
“Kiss me,” she demands as she leans in.
She leans in first. After everything, she leans in first. I will never take that for granted again.
I don’t need to be told twice. I claim her mouth, coaxing her open with a slow sweep of my tongue against her bottom lip. She opens for me, and I deepen the kiss, tasting the frosting on her lips, the soft heat of her breath.
“Fuck,” I groan as I pull back slightly.
“Don’t stop,” she pants, chasing my mouth.
“Baby, if I don’t stop, I’ll ruin my gentleman persona. I did plan a whole date,” I whisper.
She looks up at me through her lashes. “I don’t want a gentleman tonight, Sam.”
That’s all I need.
I scoop her up in my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist, her dress riding up deliciously high. I carry her to the truck, gently setting her down on a thick blanket over the tailgate.
I pause, cradling her face in my hands. My fingers trail slowly along the neckline of her dress, brushing over her full breasts before sliding down to the hem bunched around her waist. I run a hand along her thigh.
“You are so damn beautiful, baby,” I say reverently, stroking the inside of her thighs.
“Please, Sam, I need more,” she whimpers, angling her hips toward me.
“You never have to beg, baby,” I croon, pushing her panties aside to find she’s already soaking.
My fingers slide inside her easily. I know her body, have worshiped it countless times, and I will never get enough of it.
“Good girl. So wet for me already.” I pump them slowly at first, savoring the way she clenches around me. Her head falls back, chest rising and falling as I work her.
“You’re so damn sexy like this, Becca. Lying here on my truck, moaning for me.”
She whimpers, grinding into my hand. “Sam …”
That whispery plea undoes me. I curl my fingers deep, right where I know she loves it, and flick my thumb over her clit in tight circles.
“Becca,” I growl. “Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you fall apart on my hand.”
Her eyes snap to mine. I watch them go wide, then glassy as she tightens around my fingers and shatters.
“You did so good for me, sweetheart.” I lean down and kiss her temple, her jaw, the corner of her open mouth. Her makeup’s smudged, hair a wild halo around her flushed face.
We’re still tangled up, chest to chest, when I finally find my voice.
“You okay?”
She nods, catching her breath. “More than okay.”
I gently ease out of her, grab the blanket, and wrap it around us both. She turns in my arms, pressing her cheek to my chest. I hold her close, letting my heartbeat slow as we look at the stars.
“I don’t know if I deserve to say it yet … but I love you,” I murmur into her hair.
We lie here until Becca’s breath comes in quieter. I know she’s about to fall asleep. I kiss her hair gently.
“Don’t fall asleep yet, baby. Let’s get you back in your cabin.”
“Mhm,” she hums at me, letting me pull her along.
I grab her keys from my pocket and unlock the door. I pull it open and turn her toward me. Her adorable sleep face looks up at me, and I give her a gentle kiss.
“Sleep tight. Don’t forget to lock up.”
She nods softly. “Goodnight, Sam. Thank you for the date, it was the best foam tree moss I’ve ever had.”
I laugh. “Same. Sweet dreams.”
And with that, she closes the door.
I sit in the truck longer than I should. Hands still on the wheel. Because walking away from her again, even like this, feels wrong in a way I can’t explain.