Chapter 24 Sam
SAM
As I jog up the walkway to Olivia’s house, my stomach somersaults in anticipation. It’s been a week since I last saw her, and I miss her like crazy. Again, I’m only able to stay a night. I need to get back for Bas.
Originally, my visit was supposed to be only a few hours tomorrow, but I couldn’t fathom that. I want—need—to spend more time with her.
Now that I’m done with staying in hotels—thank you, Drew and Paige—I plan on taking every opportunity I have to spend time with her. She’s expecting me tomorrow for a few hours, but I’m surprising her with a sleepover. I can’t wait.
Except she isn’t the one to open the door.
Drew does. His eyes widen when he sees me, more shock than surprise, and definitely not the happy kind. There’s something else there too. Worry. Maybe guilt. What’s going on?
“Hey Sam, Mom’s not here.”
That catches me off guard. “Okay. Isn’t that her car in the driveway?”
He nods but doesn’t elaborate. The awkward silence stretches long enough for me to feel it in my gut.
“All right. No problem. I’m surprising her. I was supposed to come tomorrow, but thought I’d come a day earlier.”
I step past him into the house and head toward the kitchen, trying not to read too much into his stiffness. “Is it okay if I get started on dinner? Have you eaten?”
“Uh… Sam, ah…” He rakes a hand through his hair, searching for words.
I stop, turn, and wait. “Spit it out.”
“My mom’s out for dinner. Not sure when she’ll be back. It might be late.” The kid’s nervous, stumbling.
It’s like he’s trying to tell me something without saying it out loud—and I’m missing the damn memo.
I scrub a hand over my face, leaning against the counter. “Okay. Is she out with the girls? Jonah?”
“I have no clue, man.” And there it is—a lie, clear as day.
I don’t know Drew that well yet, but I’ve been around long enough to spot a tell. He won’t meet my eyes, his Adam’s apple jumps, and he swallows like he’s choking on the words. Something’s up.
He slips past me into the living room, grabbing his phone like it’s a lifeline. His thumbs start flying across the screen.
Is he texting Olivia? Warning her I’m here?
“Drew, what gives, man? You want me to go?”
Startled, he shakes his head fast. “Shit, no. Sorry. Just distracted.” He shoves his phone into his pocket, forcing a grin. “So, what are you cooking? I’m starved.”
I hold his gaze a moment longer, then let it go. Whatever this is, I’ll figure it out later.
Within minutes, we fall into an easy rhythm. The tension melts as we chop, season, and cook. Drew’s got a good sense of humor and even better timing. His stories from the construction site have me in stitches—half the stuff those guys get up to is insane.
By the time we sit down, we’ve got plates of fish tacos and a couple of beers cracked open. It’s comfortable. Easy. Almost normal again.
Until the doorbell rings.
He freezes mid-bite. The look that crosses his face isn’t subtle, it’s pure dread. What is going on?
“You want me to get it?” I wipe my hands and turn off the faucet.
“Nah.” He drops the dish towel and moves quickly, too quickly. “I’ll get it.”
I frown but let him go. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe—
“Get the fuck out.”
The voice—angry, raw—cuts through the air like a gunshot.
Without hesitation, I’m moving before thought, rounding the corner and barreling toward the front door. My heart slams against my ribs.
I skid to a stop.
Drew’s standing in the doorway, squared off against a man I’ve only met once. Pete. Olivia’s ex-husband. They’re practically mirror images, same height, same defiant posture, both furious.
“Hey.” I carefully step in before this goes sideways.
It takes Pete a second to process what he’s seeing, who I am, and when it clicks, he stiffens, shoulders locking, fists flexing, jaw tightening until it looks painful.
His eyes, sharp, blue, and furious, slice right through me like daggers as he pushes past Drew and storms into the house. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Before I can answer, Drew sneers, voice bitter and hard. “He’s welcome. I want him here.”
That catches Pete off guard. He frowns, clearly not expecting to be challenged. Whatever’s happening between them, it runs deep.
“Leave,” Drew orders, jaw clenched.
“Hey—” Hand up, I try to defuse the situation and step closer, close enough that if either of them moves, I can intervene. “Pete.” I nod at him, keeping my tone even, controlled. “Drew. Everything okay?”
“It’ll be fine once he leaves.” Drew stabs a finger toward the door, voice tight but trembling underneath.
“Drew, I came here to talk.” Pete’s tone is softer now, almost pleading.
And that’s the thing—underneath the anger, the man actually sounds sincere. His voice is rough, strained, but not false.
Although, Drew doesn’t buy it. His fists curl at his sides, knuckles white, shoulders tight. He’s holding himself together by a thread. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“Pete, you should go.” I inch forward, keeping my body angled between them. I’m trying to sound calm, unthreatening, but my pulse is hammering.
Olivia mentioned there was tension between them, but this…this is darker. A secret? A betrayal? Whatever this is, it’s not small.
Pete’s stance widens, his chin lifting. He plants his hands on his hips, the motion deliberate, territorial.
“Who the hell are you to tell me to leave? This is my family. My wife. My son.” His words hit like a challenge, and every muscle within me turns rigid.
Before I can respond, Drew explodes. “She’s not your wife anymore.” His voice cracks with rage. “You should know that, especially considering you had no problem forgetting what being married meant.”
The room quiets. Dead still. Pete flinches.
And that’s when it hits me, whatever Drew’s talking about, whatever betrayal he’s holding on to, it’s real. Big. Perhaps so big, it’s something they won’t be able to come back from.
Olivia told me Pete didn’t cheat, that their marriage just fell apart.
But the way Pete’s face hardens and the way Drew seems wrecked and burdened, like the weight of this, whatever this is, may be too much for him to bear, I’m not so sure anymore.
Whatever truth sits between father and son, it’s poison…
And it’s about to spill.
Pete stills, unbending as stone. His face hardens, the veins at his temple throbbing as he snares his son’s gaze. Neither of them moves, neither willing to yield.
From my position, only a few feet away, I’m poised to step in if needed. I want to kick the bastard out, but this isn’t my fight. Well, at least, not yet. And I respect Drew, want to give him the space to work this out his way.
Still, if it goes south, I’ll act.
Pete finally breaks the stalemate. His shoulders drop, just slightly. “We’ll have to talk eventually, Drew.”
His son lets out a bitter laugh, no humor in it. “Whatever. I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”
Drew stalks away, the anger rolling off him like heat, and Pete watches him go. For a moment, the fury in his body gives way to something that almost resembles regret. But then his gaze lands on me again, and any softness vanishes.
With one last hard glare, he mutters something under his breath and storms out, slamming the door so hard the frame rattles.
“Thank fuck he’s gone.” Drew’s voice is smaller now, drained as he sinks into a chair, rubbing his face. “Please don’t tell my mom what happened.”
“Why?”
“She’ll get upset, and then it’ll domino from there. I can handle it. Just… Don’t say anything, okay?”
“I won’t, but I don’t like keeping things from her.”
He nods, guilt flickering across his face. “Sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have asked you to.”
“Look, I get it.” I lower myself to the edge of the table. “I won’t bring it up, but I’ll make sure she gives you space. I can tell you don’t want her hovering.”
That earns me a small, tired smile. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
He hesitates as we move toward the living room. “What if you know something you feel someone has a right to know, but you don’t want to hurt them? Would you tell them?”
Shit. A sharp twist grips my gut. This isn’t a hypothetical question. This is eating at him. Has been for some time now. And yeah, I can read between the lines. Pete cheated. Or worse.
He’s asking me what to do, and I have no damn clue how to answer that. I don’t want to steer him wrong, but I also can’t dump that kind of truth on Olivia if it’s not mine to tell.
“Honestly.” I rub the back of my neck. “Maybe that’s something you should talk to your mom about. She’s better at this than I am.”
“Maybe.” Disappointment clouds his features.
“Hey.” I pause to catch his gaze. “Think about it. She cares about you. If there’s something you’re struggling with, she’d want to help.”
He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s the problem. If I tell her, she’ll get hurt.”
That stops me cold.
Because whatever this is—it’s not just about Pete. It’s about Olivia. And the thought of her being hurt again awakens something ugly and protective in me.
But before I can push for more details, for him to tell me what he means, her voice floats from the front door. “Hey, Drew? Was that your dad’s car backing out of the driveway?”
Shit.
When she rounds the corner, my chest tightens. God, she’s stunning. The turquoise dress she’s wearing hugs her in all the right places, the soft fabric catching the light. Stray curls have fallen loose from her messy bun, framing her face in a way that makes my throat go dry.
“Sam.” Her voice snags on my name, high and startled as she steps back.
Across the room, Drew stiffens. His jaw locks, eyes cutting sharply toward her as he steps forward, protective and warning all at once. “Mom.”
Tension, heavy and sharp, crawls up my spine. Whatever’s been brewing here, what Drew’s been evading or carrying, is still strong and thriving.
I step toward her. “Olivia.”
She glances my way, and a fleeting smile tugs at her lips but doesn’t quite land in her eyes.
At the sudden knock on the door, she turns, hesitating, gaze flicking between Drew and me before finally opening it.
A man stands on the threshold, dark suit pressed, salt-and-pepper hair neatly styled.
He’s a little soft around the middle but carries himself with the easy confidence in that polished, I-own-a-country-club way.
His grin is too wide, too familiar—and when his gaze lands on Olivia, it widens even more.
“Olivia.” He steps forward slightly, voice warm, practiced. “Can I see you tomorrow? I was thinking we could drive to Niagara-on-the-Lake. Spend the day together.”
The world narrows. Dark and unsteady around the edges.
Drew whips his gaze to me, expression tight, clouded with something that looks a lot like pity. Dinner crawls up my throat, acidic and burning as my stomach churns at what I’m quickly piecing together.
I don’t need to ask who this is. Deep down, I already know. The hit comes low and mean, like a gut punch I never saw coming.
Pete may be out of the picture—or maybe he isn’t fully as his text flashes across my vision. He may still have a part of her heart—but apparently, I’ve got more than him to contend with. Clearly, I’m not the only man in Olivia’s life.
Drew clears his throat and grabs his keys. “I’m out of here. I’m staying at Ken’s tonight. Sam, thanks for dinner, man.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, only bolts down the walkway like he’s running from a bomb that’s about to go off.
The door slams, and the silence that follows detonates—loud, brash, screaming everything left unsaid.
Olivia shifts on her feet, eyes darting anywhere but to me.
“Ah, sorry, I…” Her voice trails off, fragile and uncertain.
And just like that, the air between us changes.
All week, I’d told myself we were fine. That what we had was solid enough to weather the distance, the chaos.
But standing here now, looking at her, at the guilt flickering behind those beautiful eyes, I’m not so sure anymore.