38. Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Samantha
After vacuuming up the final stray hairs from the floor, I stow the styling tools I’ve used today and clean the sink.
The month of September has been a balancing act between my increasing client list and my desire to spend as much time as possible with Adrián.
I traveled to Boston last week to watch their away series and see some of the city together during his downtime.
I’ve made up for it by squeezing in extra-long hours, staying later in the evenings twice a week to accommodate clients who can’t schedule during the day.
But we’re all looking forward to October. The pinnacle of the year for baseball players. And fans. And obsessed girlfriends.
I blocked off all of tomorrow because Adrián has a few days off during the wild card round of the playoffs—the notable perk of winning their division.
The Crowns get to rest up while the other teams duke it out for spots in the Divisional Series, which means Adrián and I get a couple of leisurely days together.
Since I’ll be out of the salon for a while, I want to leave my space as clean and organized as possible, so I stay an extra few minutes deep cleaning everything. By the time I finish, it’s nearing 9:30 p.m., and I’m exhausted.
When my phone rings, I expect it to be Adrián saying goodnight, so I’m surprised to see Ian’s contact photo on the screen.
“Hey, baby brother,” I answer. “What are you doing calling so late?”
“Hey, Sammi,” he says, then abruptly stops talking.
After a few beats of silence, I prod, “Uh, Ian? What’s wrong?”
His voice is reluctant when he answers. “I just realized that I didn’t think this through. I should wait and talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, right,” I say, starting to pace. “Too late now. Whatever it is, you’d better spit it out because I won’t sleep tonight knowing something’s wrong that you’re not telling me.”
“Are you with anyone? You maybe shouldn’t be alone,” Ian says.
My pulse picks up steam along with my feet. “You’re freaking me out even more, Ian. Just say it.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, and I can hear the mental gears turning in that brilliant brain of his. Sighing, I say, “Ian, please tell me. Whatever it is. I can handle it.”
It’s his turn to sigh before he states, “I have a Google alert set for Charles’ name, and I got an alert today about a news article. Charles was released from prison.”
Blood stops flowing through my veins. Oxygen stops converting to carbon dioxide in my lungs. Signals stop traveling from my brain to my muscles.
But my anxious thoughts explode.
“He . . . what?” I ask.
Charles has been denied parole and had his time in prison extended multiple times for bad behavior, so he’s been behind bars much longer than his original sentence.
I’m not sure why I subconsciously assumed he would forever make bad choices that would forever extend his incarceration, but in this moment, I realize I have never given thought to the possibility of him walking freely in society again.
“He was released yesterday. I guess he finally served his time without making things worse for himself, and he’s out on parole,” Ian says.
He rushes to explain, “I felt like I should be the one to tell you as soon as I found out. That you should know. But I didn’t think about when I should tell you.
I’m sorry, Sammi. I should have flown there and told you in person. ”
Panic spirals through my body, but my protective instincts with Ian still reign in my mind. “No, Ian, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m glad you were the one to tell me. I’ll be okay. I appreciate you calling me. Really.”
“Are you sure? Do you want me to call Mom and Dad?” Ian asks.
“I’m sure. I’m fine. Let’s talk again soon, but you need to go to bed,” I say, managing to keep my voice from shaking despite my trembling body.
“Okay. I love you, Sammi,” Ian says.
“Love you too,” I barely manage before ending the call and crouching to the floor.
Fear floods my adrenal system, paralyzing everything except my thoughts.
Logic would point to the extreme unlikelihood of Charles seeking me out, of my path ever crossing with his again.
But trauma doesn’t make you logical.
It makes you afraid.
And I’m afraid.
When I finally regain enough control of my muscles to move, I stumble out to my car.
I need home.
Autopilot takes me on the familiar drive as my mind continuously spirals through worst-case scenarios. I’m overloaded, overstimulated, overwhelmed, over-everything when I pull into the driveway and knock on the door.
I’m trembling from head to toe by the time the door opens.
“Samantha?” Adrián’s curls are messy, and he’s dressed in athletic shorts and a white T-shirt. He was probably in bed already before I interrupted his night. He asks, “What’s wrong?”
“I need you,” I rasp as I fly to his arms, burying my face against his chest. Strong arms wrap around me, holding me tightly against him.
He backs us two steps inside the house and closes the door, never letting go of me, which is good since I think I would collapse to the floor without him holding me up.
“Do you want to come sit on the couch?” Adrián asks, his breath tickling the side of my face. It adds a shiver to my trembling, and I nod against his chest, knowing I won’t be able to stay on my feet much longer.
He starts to lower one arm to my legs to pick me up, but I say, “I can walk. I need to be capable of walking.”
“No, you don’t,” he murmurs as he swoops me into his arms. “Not when I’m here for you. And I’m always here for you.”
Tears finally burst free, and I nestle my face into the crook of Adrián’s neck as he carries me to the living room.
“I love you,” I sob, clinging my arms around his broad shoulders. Seconds later, he gently lowers me to the L-shaped couch. He sits in the corner with his legs stretched in front of him, pulling me to rest against his chest.
His arms wrap around me with firm pressure as he commands, “Listen to my heartbeat. Feel my breaths. Calm down your breathing before you try to talk. Match your heart to mine.”
Closing my eyes, I do exactly as he says. I focus on the sound of his heartbeat, calm and steady below my ear. I allow my body to rise and fall with his breaths, breathing in through my nose when his chest expands, out through my mouth as it deflates.
When I’m no longer trembling, Adrián loosens the grip of one of his arms around my back, moving his hand to gently scratch my neck. With my body finally regulated, I sigh and say, “Ian called to let me know that Charles was released from prison yesterday.”
Adrián’s fingers still against my neck, his other hand tightening on my waist. Every muscle in his body tenses as he asks, “What do you mean?”
Pressing against his chest, I sit up enough to look him in the eyes. He moves with me, keeping a tight hand around my waist. “His original sentence got extended several times. But he was released on parole yesterday. He’s . . . he’s out.”
Adrián’s eyes flare as he shifts forward, sitting up. “I’ll put him back in prison. Do you know where he is?”
“I don’t need you going to prison, menso,” I say, placing a hand on his chest. His eyes soften at my use of his nickname, evidence I’m out of the spiral. At least, for the moment.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I say, “I don’t know exactly where he is. Ian didn’t say. But I don’t think I want to know. But maybe I do need to know. What are the odds I’d ever see him on the street? But what if I did see him on the street?”
A new spiral threatens, but Adrián places both hands on my waist, twisting me to sit across his lap. I bend my knees, tucking my face into his neck again, hiding from the spiral. His arms are tight around me as he says, “He will never come anywhere close to you. Never. I’ll make sure of it.”
I reach a hand up to Adrián’s neck, absentmindedly twirling the curls through my fingers. I focus on the silky feeling of his hair between my fingertips, on his masculine scent in my nose, on the security of his arms around me.
When I’m sure the spiral has passed, I lean back, brushing the curls off Adrián’s forehead, smoothing my hand down his cheek. “I love you,” I whisper. “Can we go to the stars?”
Adrián nods, and we walk together to the tree at the edge of his yard. He makes sure I climb up safely before joining me, and he spreads out the blankets and props a pillow against the tree trunk. He leans against it, pulling my back to his chest as he wraps his arms around me.
I look up at the vast sky, at the innumerable stars thrown across the inky black. But as I sit here with Adrián, gazing up at the expanse that has brought me so much comfort in the past, I realize that I don’t feel small.
I feel loved.
My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I look down to Adrián’s arm that’s bent across my chest. At the arch of stars tattooed across the base of his bicep, at the “Ad Astra” inked below.
Ad Astra per Aspera—To the Stars through Difficulties.
We’ve both been through difficulties. Different, but difficult, nonetheless. But we made it to the stars. The earth turned to bring us closer. To join us in this dream.
Together.
Leaning my lips to his arm, I press a kiss to the stars.