“There is no hurt, no pain,” he reminds me. “That’s the nature of death tripping. Not until we can’t fix the aftermath, then there is pain.”
“I can be strong enough, Sam. I can do this with you. I can be here for you, and we’ll figure out what Costa is doing.”
“You’re very strong, Stell, stronger than you know. But Costa’s strong, too.” He pushes gently against my shoulders so that I’m sitting up, looking into his eyes. “I made you doubt yourself and question the reality that you fought so hard for. That’s unforgivable.”
“You were protecting me. That’s everything.”
Sam slips his hands under the back of my shirt and presses his fingers into me—running them up and down my skin, undoing my bra—and then he moves his touch to the front. Through the thin fabric of my pants, I can feel that he wants me as much as I want him. He sits up, too, and embraces me.
“I missed you, Stella,” he whispers, his breath and words dancing against my ear.
“And I missed you, Sam.”
