Chapter 23
Sammy
The day is beautiful and sunny, perfect spring weather, and I stare across the view as I drive, trying to get my mind to settle.
I’m high enough up that I’m above most of the tree line, which means I can see the valley below us, colored now in bright greens and jewel tones as things start to come back to life, underscored by the deep browns of the soil and the wood.
Trees march down the mountains in the thousands, interrupted only by the occasional thread of a river or stream, and I smile gently, thinking about the peace under those trees, the squirrels and birds and deer living their lives far away from the drama created by humanity.
The drama created by humanity.
The thought tears me out of the deep shadows of the forest and back into the truck, where I’m sitting alone, driving back to town.
Cameron stayed in the meadow. He said he had some thinking to do, as well as Mars’ bike to get home, and though I don’t like that I left him there, which feels like every wrong thing in the world, I have to admit that I don’t know if I could have sat in the truck with him for the time it took to get back to town.
I don’t even know how to look at him after what we just did.
My memory flies back to earlier, when I’d driven up here on my own. The video of Bear had been shocking enough, but that wasn’t what drove me to the mountain. That was the picture of us together in his car, him leaning toward me like he was about to kiss me and my eyes turned down toward my lap.
Like I was waiting for him to do just that.
It wasn’t true. I’d been looking at a map of the town, trying to figure out the most efficient way to handle the calls we were going on, and Bear had been looking over and trying to help me.
The camera had caught him at a point when he was looking at me instead of down, but that didn’t change what we’d been doing.
It just changed the way it looked.
And when I glanced up, horrified, to see Cameron watching the same video I was seeing, that picture registering in his mind and his expression going suddenly hard, I’d known he was seeing exactly what whoever made the video meant for him to see.
Bear and me in his car sharing a moment–and one that I didn’t tell Cam about. Because if we’d had a moment like that, I would never have told him.
Sort of like I haven’t told him about what I did with Bear in the shop.
The guilt of it all was so terrible, so overwhelming, that I was barely able to sit and listen to the rest of what Gunner had to say.
His point had been that he wanted Bear to clean up his messes before he came into the family business, and though I wanted to fight with him about that I hadn’t had the patience or focus.
The only thing I was thinking about was getting out of that restaurant and into air I could breathe. Doing something to get rid of the horror smashing through my heart. And for the first time in my life, I hadn’t wanted Cameron by my side, because he was the one I needed to run from.
I’d gone up the mountain with the bridge in my mind, desperate for something big enough to sweep Cameron from my mind, and had thought I’d find myself out on that ledge again, the wind whipping through my hair and the mountain dropping away below my feet, just waiting for the jump.
Waiting for me to step off the edge of the platform and plummet down toward the water, the rush of it giving me the blank space I so desperately needed.
And then I got to the meadow, full of tall green grass and daisies, and something shifted inside me.
I remembered every time Cameron brought me to this meadow to lay in that grass and stare up at the sky.
Watch the clouds roll in before a storm or the sun setting in the distance as we talked about life or our mothers or the father who never bothered to come home.
I remembered the feel of his hand in mine and his body laying next to me, his warmth surrounding me as he told me that everything would be okay, and someday we’d be able to make our own decisions.
His laughter when I made up a game he didn’t understand, and the way he teased me for being too clever.
We discovered the field when we were only fourteen, the first time we stole my mother’s car and drove up the mountain without permission.
We brought sleeping bags and pillows, plus as many snacks as we could pack into our backpacks, and zipped the sleeping bags together so we could sleep in the same bed under the stars.
I’d fallen asleep to the sound of crickets and night birds, my head on his chest and his arm around me, and I’d never been happier.
We’ve been coming up here ever since, and I can’t look at the meadow without thinking of my best friend.
I’d pulled over in a copse of trees that sat next to the meadow without thinking about it and stared out into the grass, letting the sound of the wind in the blades sooth the raging spiral in my mind.
And before I knew it, I was getting out of the truck and walking out into the grass, my eyes on the sky above me and my heart calming enough to let me think.
I didn’t need the bridge, I’d realized.
I’d just needed the meadow that reminded my heart of Cameron.
And by the time the boy himself showed up, like I’d actually called for him, I’d worked out exactly what the problem was. I wasn’t running from the fear of who Bear was or what Cameron had seen in that picture.
I was running from the fear that Cameron was going to use it as a reason to leave me.
But when I saw him there on the road, running toward me like his life depended on it, I’d known that the world had brought him to comfort me, and that he was the exact thing I needed.
Not the bridge. Not that train tracks or a hot burner or driving too fast or any of the other things I did to try to forget my pain.
I needed Cameron.
So when he took me into his arms and laid me down, then made love to me, it had felt like the completion of some sort of agreement we never knew we needed to sign.
Of course, that was then and this is now, when I’ve left him in the meadow and am driving home on my own, every fear rearing its ugly head and remind me why that was a bad idea.
I can’t get over the idea that I’ve just ruined everything and that I no longer have a safe space with my best friend. I used to be able to count on him for everything, and now that’s going to be finished, too.
Cameron’s going to end up running just like everyone else has. He’ll realize I’m nothing, that I’m not worth staying for, and all his pretty words about always being there will blow away like the wind through the trees surrounding that meadow.
He said he loves me, but I know for a fact that I can’t live up to that.
I can’t be what he thinks I am.
And the minute I try, he’s going to realize I’m not enough.
My phone suddenly buzzes in my lap and I look down, thinking Cameron has somehow realized that I need to hear from him right now.
Instead, I see yet another text from an unknown number. The same one that’s been texting me for a week. And this time, I pull to the side of the road and read what it says.
Sammy, I know you don’t know me, or at least don’t remember me. You can’t possibly, because you’ve never met me in real life. I left before you were even born. I’m your father. And I want to get to know you.
I stare at the message until my vision blurs and I have to blink several times to get my eyes to come back into focus. Then I stare at it some more.
This isn’t the first message. There are two from before, which I never read, and I look to them now, my brain refusing to take anything in.
The first message is much like this one, while the second one talks about wanting to get together and have lunch with me.
See if we can be in each other’s lives. He says he’s always wondered about me but just recently figured out how to get in touch with me.
He tells me it’s not a good idea to tell anyone else about this, until we know what we want to do. He doesn’t want anyone talking me out of meeting with him.
My father.
Or a man who claims he is.
I have no way of knowing who this guy actually is, or if he’s related to me at all. But the thought of my real father, of someone who’s actually related to me by blood...
I don’t have any real family anymore. Not since my mom died. And there’s something about having a real dad, and a real family, that calls to a deep part of me. The part that’s never felt like it belonged, or like anyone really cared too much to keep it around.
The part that’s been searching for connection my whole life.
But I don’t know if this man is anything. Christ, he could be some scammer looking for money, for all I know. Believe me, I’m your dad, now can I have $500 to fix my car?
The idea gets under my skin, though, and settles there like a spray of thorns that I can’t get rid of. And when I get into town, I don’t turn toward the house or the complications that face me there. I can’t face Bear, who is suddenly in trouble again, and I don’t want to face Cameron.
So I turn the wheel and head for Penny Royal’s, instead. I might not be old enough to drink but Benny will still let me sit at the bar, and sitting amongst strangers sounds better right now than facing the men who are making me feel too much.
The minute I turn into the parking lot I know I’ve made a mistake.
The place is full of bikers, and they aren’t Mars and Orion’s gang.
They’re not wearing the familiar gear with the skull and crossbones, or sporting the tightly cut haircuts the men in town tend to like.
And as my gaze shifts quickly through the group, I realize that I don’t see a single familiar face.
That doesn’t mean I don’t recognize them.
Because they aren’t our bikers, but they are bikers I’ve seen around. They’ve been in town for a couple of weeks now, though no one seems to know why, and they’ve been involved in several fights with Mars and his club.
Hell, they’re the ones who were beating the shit out of Bear on the day we made the delivery to Old Man Rivers.
They’re the ones who’ve been making trouble in town ever since they rolled in, and who I’ve seen too much for my liking.
When I pull in and see them, I immediately know I shouldn’t be here.
Sure, Benny and the other guys should be in the bar, having a beer and playing pool.
Any of them would come out and help me if I asked.
But they’d have to know that I was in trouble, and no one in there knows I was planning to come to the bar.
They don’t know I might need help out here.
I turn into a parking spot and hit reverse, anxious to get back out of the lot as quickly as possible. But it’s already too late. The bikers have noticed me, and before I can get the truck to move again they’re walking toward me, surrounding the truck and laying their hands on its body.
I look around, my instincts screaming that this is trouble and nothing good will come of this. but can’t see a space to get out of here.
Shit.
I put the truck in gear, take a deep breath, and then hit the gas, praying Bear will be able to get me out of trouble for running tourists over if he knows they were attacking me at the time.