39. Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Thirty-nine
Samantha
An hour later, Kelly showed up at my door.
Thankfully, alone.
Too tired to argue with her on my front porch, I let her inside. She flounced into my house like she still lived here, leaving her heels in a pile in my foyer, her purse and phone dumped on the entry table.
She followed me into the kitchen where I’d been half-heartedly making myself some toast. Not that I was hungry. I was hoping putting something in my stomach would settle it, at least a little. As it was, I was on the verge of retching every few minutes.
“We’re working on things,” she started. “We’re not reengaged or anything.”
“Okay.” I braced my hands on the counter. “It’s your life. Do what you want.”
She crossed her arms with a huff. “You’re judging me.”
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes, over being polite. “Who wouldn’t judge you? I’m sure all your friends’ group chats are going wild with the news.”
“They’re not. We’re not telling everyone yet. Like I said, we’re still working on it. We both did things wrong—”
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “What about Scarlet? Are you friends with her again?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. “She’s a disloyal witch. I never want to see her two raggedy faces again if I can help it.”
I sputtered a dry laugh. “So she has two faces and is unforgivable, but you’ll let Josh fuck you like he wasn’t just sticking his dick in her?”
Her eyes flared, and the skin on her throat became mottled. “Don’t talk like that. You sound so vulgar.”
“And you sound like Mom.” I bit off a big piece of toast and didn’t bother swallowing before speaking again. “Then again, why shouldn’t you? You’re basically following in her footsteps.”
“Why shouldn’t I? My mom was a victim. Your mom was a homewrecking slut.”
I jerked like I’d been slapped.
The undertone had always been there. My whole life, I’d heard it beneath the words my family said to me. But this was the first time anyone had said them outright.
My mom. Your mom. An important distinction that had been there all my life. No matter how good I was, how neat I kept my room, how respectful, self-deprecating, apologetic I was, I was never really one of them. There had always been and would always be an asterisk beside my name.
Samantha Blackwell*
*illegitimate offspring of Peter Blackwell and Tara Ann, a Las Vegas stripper and slut whom Marla Blackwell very kindly took into her home and raised like the child she never, ever wanted.
I’d spent so long trying to earn membership to a club that would never accept me. I was never Marla’s daughter.
I was a reminder.
Twisting away from her, I blinked back hot tears. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to explain why I was with Josh tonight.” Her voice dropped, contriteness spreading between her words. “After all you did for me…I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t. You don’t need to apologize for saying the quiet part out loud.”
“Okay.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was hoping you’d try to understand me.”
“Why? Have you ever tried to understand me?”
She swallowed hard but had nothing to say.
Taking a deep breath, I turned back to her. “I wish you a lot of luck. I think you’ll need it. But maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll be as happy as Mom is with Dad.”
We both let that settle heavily between us. Our parents were the farthest thing from happy. None of us would ever consider them a loving couple. But they stuck with each other through every miserable year, and I didn’t see that changing.
She threw up her hands with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll be miserable with him.
I don’t know. It’s just…being on the outside is the worst feeling.
Mom has been angry with me since I left Josh before the wedding, and Dad has made it clear how disappointed he is in me.
I thought I could start fresh and stand on my own two feet.
I was doing well, actually, then Decker and Georgia had their baby, and I… I was lonely, Sam.”
I shook my head. “He’s going to do it again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Why wouldn’t he? You’ve forgiven him for sleeping with your best friend.
The only thing more egregious than that is fucking your sister—which will not be happening.
So the next time he screws a coworker or the nanny or your neighbor, you’ll be able to say, ‘Well, at least it wasn’t my best friend.
’ And when he knocks up a stripper during a boys’ trip, are you going to take that kid in and hate her too? ”
“Sammie, that’s—”
“If you say it’s far-fetched, I’m going to scream. You’ve chosen to attach yourself to a replica of our father.”
Her jaw worked as she stared me down. “I’m not like you, Sam. I can’t be on the outside.”
“It isn’t like I like it out here. I wasn’t given a choice.”
“Well, I was,” she cried. “Mom and Dad told me I was on my own unless I tried to forgive Josh. What was I supposed to do? I’m not built to be the black sheep. I can’t skip through life by myself. I don’t have an Adrian Wells to lean on. If they turn their backs on me…”
“I would have been there.” I slapped my hand on the counter, more frustrated and sad than angry.
“I was there, Kelly. I took you in, no questions asked. I sat on the floor and let you cry on me after our brother had his baby, even though no one even thought for a second to tell me. That gutted me, but I was there for you anyway.”
“I know. I know, Sam.” Her eyes filled with tears. And damn her for looking so pretty when she cried. “I’m a bitch and an idiot. That was unfair of me. I didn’t even think… You’ve been really good to me. I didn’t even realize how important you are to me, but you are.”
I could not let that in. If I allowed myself to fall for those words and how good they might have felt to believe, I would have bent backward for her and found a way to make all this okay.
And it wasn’t.
None of this was okay.
“I’m important to you as a backup plan.” I flicked my hand at her. “If this doesn’t work out with Josh, you want me here to fall on. Will I hear from you if you get your happily ever after? Will I get an invitation to your next wedding?”
“If we do get married, it’ll be small…” she whispered.
I nodded sharply. “That’s what I thought.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“I didn’t need to.”
I’d always pictured my family as a tether—something that kept me from drifting too far away. A safe harbor. Now I finally understood I’d been wrong all along.
My tie to them was a noose. Every forgotten invitation, every holiday I’d felt like a guest, every jab reminding me I wasn’t quite one of them, every time I’d convinced myself next time would be different—they were all another knot.
Another pull to tighten the loop around my throat.
Another inch stolen until it’d been so long since I’d taken a full breath it almost knocked me on my ass when I did.
But as my chest inflated, freedom rushed through my veins.
This wasn’t going to keep happening. I would not allow it.
Kelly took a step toward me, and I dodged her, walking straight to my front door. Only then did I face her.
“It’s time for you to go.”
Her mouth fell open. “I don’t want to. You have to understand, I can’t be like you.”
“You can. You won’t.” I opened the door—my only regret being that I hadn’t done it sooner. “Please go now.”
She approached the foyer, wringing her hands in front of her. “I hate leaving this way.”
I looked out into the night, pulling in breath after breath. I’d always thought if I’d ever gotten the guts to put my foot down, I’d drown in grief. I’d thought it would hurt in an impossibly unbearable way.
But in one final decision, the burden of trying and trying and trying for my family was lifted.
“I’m done.”
Kelly lifted her head as she shoved her feet into her shoes. “What does that mean?”
“I’m really done.”
Her eyes met mine, glimmering with confusion before understanding slowly slid in. And behind it, a surprising wave of sadness.
“You’re done,” she echoed.
After picking up her purse and phone, she took another long look at me. My heart pinched, but I didn’t doubt my decision for a fraction of a second.
Kelly stepped onto the porch and turned back, looking at me like she was waiting for me to change my mind or make things easier. Like I always did.
Instead, I made things easier for me.
“Goodbye, Kell.” I gently closed the door.
The lock clicked into place. It was the smallest sound. The loudest ending.
I stood there for another second, staring at the door, expecting the grief I’d spent my whole life dreading to finally crush me.
But there was nothing but more relief.
The first person I wanted to tell was Nate.
I smiled as I imagined him telling me how proud he was of me and wrapping me in a bear hug. Then he’d undoubtedly look me over and make sure I was really okay.
I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed my phone from the charger.
The flashing notification that I’d missed two calls from Nate and another for a voicemail brought me up short. He never left voicemails.
I pressed play on the message.
“I’m sorry, Samantha. Sammie. I’m really sorry.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, but I couldn’t say why.
“I really love you. You know that, right?”
He paused.
“I wish you were here…but I should sleep. I need to get some sleep.”
His voice echoed, like he was in the bathroom.
“That would be really good.”
A long beat of silence.
“I just wish I could hear your voice and know you’re there.”
He inhaled, but it sounded closer to gasping. “I’m really sorry about this. You’re so beautiful, and you make me really happy. Your smiles…I think about your smiles all the time.”
He laughed without any trace of happiness.
“I’m tired tonight. That’s what it is. So tired. But I love you, Sam. I really do.”
He took another gasping breath. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I held my breath through the next silence.
“We’ll snuggle. It’ll be good.”
Softer, he said, “See you, Samantha. See you.”
There were more muffled sounds, a groan, then the voicemail ended.
I stared at my phone, then my thumb hit play again without conscious thought. This time, I closed my eyes and listened. Not just to the words, but the sounds in between.
Exhaustion dragged through every breath, every syllable, but this was more than Nate being tired. He didn’t sound like my Nate. Not at all.
This wasn’t any version of the Nate I knew.
Ice flooded my veins, and panic forced me into action. I grabbed my keys and shoved my feet into my shoes, tearing through the front door I’d just locked peacefully minutes before.
Something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but I couldn’t wait until morning to find out.
By the time I made it to Nate’s, it was late, and I let myself inside to a silent tomb. But Nate was quiet. That was how he went through life. I loved how careful he was about his place in the world.
Tonight, though, it was terrifying me.
I’d been crossing my fingers I’d find him working at his kitchen island like I had so many times, but it was empty, his laptop closed and forgotten.
Fear clogged my throat as I rushed into his bedroom. Light seeped from beneath his closed bathroom door.
Please.
I didn’t know what I was asking for.
Just…
Please.
I didn’t think I took a breath or blinked as I crossed the room, for fear the light would go out before I got there.
“Nate?” I whispered, turning the knob.
The door only opened a sliver before it stopped, my heart along with it. Something on the other side was blocking it.
“Nate? It’s me. It’s Sammie.”
The first break in the silence was heavy breathing coming from the floor. That shouldn’t have been such a relief, but it was.
It was.
I also now understood it was him blocking the door, and I couldn’t waste a second. I was able to nudge it open just wide enough to squeeze myself through.
Nate was curled on the floor, his phone clutched tight in his hand. His face was pinched, and tears tracked along his temple, disappearing into his hair.
My beautiful Nate.
His eyes were open, but they were unfocused, and he didn’t react when I crouched in front of him and touched his shoulder.
“Nate, are you sick?” I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. He was sweaty, but not hot. “Honey, tell me what’s wrong. Please talk to me.”
Deep down, I knew what this was. Nate wasn’t himself. He hadn’t been since Louise had died. Maybe longer.
I’d been looking for the answer in all the wrong places. I’d felt him slipping and mistook it as him pulling away from me.
Had he been going under this whole time, and I had let him drown all alone?
No. There would be time for me to question every single thing I’d done wrong later. Right now was about Nate. Nothing else.
“Nate?” I tapped his cheek with a little more force, needing him to know I was with him. I couldn’t think of anything else.
Falling to my knees, I put my face in front of his. Nose to nose. Eye to eye. He couldn’t look past me, not like this.
“Nate.”
Still nothing.
“Natey.”
I stroked my thumb along his cheek.
“I’m here. Look at me. Please.”
I kept whispering his name and stroking his face until finally he blinked. His eyes shifted then locked on mine.
“Am I dreaming?” he rasped.
“No,” I choked out. “No, Natey, I’m here. You’re awake, and I love you.”
“Is it morning?”
“Not morning.” I touched my lips to his. They were cracked and dry. “I couldn’t wait to see you.” My eyes filled. “Morning was too far away.”
“I love you too,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I’m a little tired.”
“I know you are. I know, baby. We’re going to get you to bed.”
First, I lay down in front of him, not wanting to give him an inch of space. Then, I took out my phone and dialed Adrian. It was late, but he picked up on the third ring.
“Hello? Sammie?”
The concern in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Ade? I’m at Nate’s. He…uh, really needs you. I don’t think he’s okay right now.”
“I’ll be right there.”