Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
All through dinner, Sammie’s words have been repeating in my mind. What does he mean he’s never had a girlfriend? He’s way too good at sex to have never been with women before, but has he really never had a relationship? Why on earth would he want one now? With me?
“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you two?” Mr. Russo points between Sammie and Imogen.
I look at Sammie. He’s been hovering over his sister all night. At first, no one said anything, and then his mom started giving them both odd looks as if she was trying to solve a puzzle. I guess now Mr. Russo wants answers as well.
“Imogen?” Sammie turns to his sister.
“Don’t…” she hisses out.
“I’m not going to. You are,” Sammie tells her.
Shit, I really should not be here for this conversation. It’s going to devastate her parents when they find out.
“Ah, I’m just going to use the restroom.” I stand and place my napkin on the table.
“I’ll show you where it is.” Sammie goes to follow me.
“Nope, you stay. Just give me directions,” I tell him.
“Down the hall, take your first left, third door,” he says.
“Right. Be back,” I reply and make a quick escape from that room.
I take my time walking to the bathroom, finding it after opening three other doors that were not in the hallway I was supposed to turn down. I twist the tap on and let the cold water wash over my hands.
“Shit, how long can I stay in here before he comes looking for me?”
The last thing I want to do is walk back into that dining room after his parents have found out that their daughter is possibly terminal. I might not have kids, but I’m pretty sure no parent wants to hear that news.
Just as I open the door, deciding it’s been long enough, Imogen storms past me.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask her, looking up and down the hallway. No one is behind her.
“I’d be better if my brother didn’t have such a big fucking mouth,” she huffs before storming off.
I follow her. Because, well, one: it’s not fair of her to put this on Sammie. And two: I can’t just ignore how upset she is.
“You don’t need to follow me,” Imogen says over a shoulder as she walks into her room.
I look around. There are floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. Huh, who would have thought crime families had libraries?
“Sorry… I just wanted to check on you. You know he’s just worried.”
“I know, but this is my decision. Not theirs.”
“I don’t agree with you. First, it’s your family who will be the ones left behind to have to deal with the loss.
Second, it’s your family who will be wondering what if every day for the rest of their lives.
During celebrations, birthdays, Christmas…
it will be your family who will be thinking about you, wishing that they could get you back even just for an hour.
So, no, it’s not you who’s affected by you dying.
It’s the people you leave behind,” I tell Imogen in one, long, exasperated breath.
“Sammie will be fine. He has you now.” She shrugs.
I shake my head. “I’m not enough. Trust me, I know.
And no one could replace you. I haven’t known your brother that long, but I can see how much he loves you, Imogen.
And if you think he’s going to be fine with you dying, then you’re delusional.
You owe it to your family to fight. You owe it to yourself to fight for as long as you possibly can. ” I turn and walk out of the room.
Sammie’s mother is in the hallway. Her eyes are watery with unshed tears.
“Sammie J is in the living room. Just follow this hallway back out, then turn right at the end.” She gives me a sad smile.
I nod my head. I have no idea what to say to her right now.
As I go to step past her, she grabs my arm. “Poppy, thank you. For what you said to her. Thank you for being here for Sammie. This… this isn’t going to be an easy time for us, but I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I’m really sorry this is happening. It’s not fair. She’s so young and I just… I’m sorry…”
Mrs. Russo’s phone lights up in her hand. “Sorry. I have to take this,” she says, turning away from me. “E, I need a job, a messy one. Now.”
I don’t know who she’s talking to or why she needs a job, but that’s also not my business. I head back the way I came and look for Sammie. I find him sitting on a sofa, his head in his hands. He’s alone. The look on his face is one of devastation, and it breaks my heart.
“Hey.” I walk farther into the room and drop down next to him. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him against me. “I’m sorry.”
Sammie’s arms circle my waist. He picks me up, twisting around so that I’m straddling him. “I’m sorry dinner ended the way it did.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “I can go home. It’s okay. I know you probably just need to be with your family now.”
“I don’t want you to go anywhere.” Sammie holds on to me tighter.
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want to go?”
I should say yes. This isn’t the time for me to be here. His family is going through shit. But when I look into his eyes, I see how much he needs something—me.
“No,” I tell him.
“Thank fuck,” he says before slamming his lips down onto mine.
A throat clears, and I practically jump off Sammie’s lap. “Shit, sorry,” I murmur, trying to straighten myself out.
Mr. Russo smiles at me, but I know it’s forced. He then looks to Sammie. “Tío E just drove in. You should take Poppy home. There’s nothing you can do here right now.”
“Who called him?” Sammie asks.
“My guess? Your mother,” Mr. Russo says. “Poppy, it was nice to meet you.” With that, he turns and walks out.
“You ready to get out of here?” Sammie asks me.
“Sure, but who is Tío E and why do you not want me to meet him?”
“I don’t care if you meet him. But if my mom called him, it’s because she’s spiraling and wants to work. And, well, we don’t need to be here for that conversation. Come on.” Sammie takes my hand and drags me through the foyer.
Just before we reach the front door, it swings open. “Lai? Where are you?” A Mexican man in a really nice suit walks in like he owns the place. He’s followed by a beautiful blonde woman.
“Emmanuel, seriously, you can’t just barge in,” the woman hisses out.
“Sammie J, where’s your mother?”
“She’s around here somewhere. She call you?” Sammie asks.
“Yeah, what’s going on?” the man presses, and then his eyes land on me. “You must be Poppy.”
“I am.” I give him a polite smile.
“Emmanuel Lopez, Tio E to this one. Welcome to the family. Excuse me. I have a hitwoman to find before this city turns red.” The man walks past me.
Emmanuel Lopez. My entire body goes cold. It can’t be. There is no way Sammie is mixed up with the fucking cartel.
“Hey, you okay?” Sammie looks down at me.
“Yeah. Just tired,” I lie. Shit, I need to get out of this house. My hands are shaking. My heart is racing. I am not going to break down right now. I need to hold it together.
“Come on, let me get you home. Aunt Evie, sorry you got dragged over here.”
“It’s fine. Go home. I’ve got this,” the blonde woman says.
“And welcome to the family, Poppy. I do wish we had met under better circumstances.”
“You know…?” Sammie asks her.
“Yeah, your mother told E over the phone. I’m sorry, Sammie J.” The woman pulls Sammie in for a hug.
They are his aunt and uncle. The cartel is his family.
I let Sammie take me home and make an excuse about being tired and having a headache when we get into bed. I let him hold me as he falls asleep while pretending to do the same.
I knew this was too good to be true. Nothing good happens to me. I should never have come here with him.
Sliding out of his arms, the sanctuary I got way too used to having, I pick up the shoes I left by the door and tiptoe out of his bedroom.
I left my purse in the living room on purpose.
Picking it up, I press the button for the elevator.
Once the doors open, I step in and select the lobby.
Only when the doors shut, and there is no sign of Sammie, do I sink back in relief against the wall.
Slipping my feet into my shoes, I walk out of the lobby and onto the street. I pull my phone from my purse and call Jaxson.
“Poppy, it’s the middle of the night,” he answers.
“I messed up, Jaxson,” I tell him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to get out of this city. I can’t stay here.”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asks, sounding more alert.
“I’m not hurt. I just… I judged him wrong. He’s not who I thought he was. I need to get home.”
“Okay, hold on a sec. Jaggar is in LA. I’m going to hire a car for you. Can you make the drive?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’m sending you directions to the car rental place. Get in an Uber and go straight there,” Jaxson instructs. “Don’t stop until you reach Jaggar.”
“What’s he doing in LA?”
“Rodeo,” Jaxson says.
“Right. I forgot.” My cousin Jaggar is a bull rider, not a pro, but he follows a circuit around. He could have gone pro. He chose not to, wanting to be able to be around the ranch rather than touring the world.
Logging into Uber, I book a car and wait. I’m not going to cry. I have to do this. I can’t stay. I can’t ignore the fact that I’ve been sleeping with a man whose family took mine away.