Page 109 of Allegiant

Adam’s face contorted in concentration as he corrects my posture for the hundredth time.

His hoot of laughter as my axe embeds in the floor again.

His whoop of pride when I finally hit the target.

The worry in his eyes the final time I saw him.

I clear my throat, but the lump there doesn’t budge. “Adam. Adam taught me.”

Samson’s hand squeezes the back of my neck. “Fuck. I’m sorry. When I find the man responsible…”

I nod quickly, trying to hide the fact that tears are slipping free. “It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t.”

He hums, his thumb stroking up and down the side of my throat. “Have you ever considered therapy?”

I laugh bitterly, staring up at the sky and willing myself to stop crying. “Have you seen the price of therapy? I’m lucky if I can afford anything other than packaged ramen most weeks.”

He shrugs. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re seeing someone who has more money than the rest of the city combined.”

“No.” I soften my rejection with a smile. “Thank you, but no. I’m not letting you pay for it.”

It’s then that my brain processes the rest of what he says. “Wait, are we seeing each other?”

Samson’s lips twitch. “I mean, yeah. Have you not been paying attention?”

A few minutes ago, I might have felt differently. I might’ve been excited, giddy even. But with the reminder of Adam, all Samson’s answer does is unlock more conflicting feelings in my gut. Ones that resemble bone-gripping fear and soul-deep want.

I duck my eyes away, unable to stand the intensity of Samson’s gaze. “I have rehearsal. Are you coming with me?”

“Course I am,” he says, wiping away the remnants of my tears with his thumbs. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. You better get used to that.”

God, how I wish I could. But that sort of happiness is reserved for others.

Not for me.

Samson takes a seat in the audience again. And again, he doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Come on, Rowan.” Marcy pouts. “You have to give us something.”

I laugh lightly as I switch out my street shoes for my dance ones. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Liar.

“Really?” Clay comes over to join in. “Then where were you last night?”

I keep my head ducked low, pretending to fiddle with my shoes. “What?”

“I stopped by your place.” He stretches as he speaks, sinking slowly into the splits. “Last night. You weren’t there.”

“Oh, that must’ve been when I popped to the grocery store,” I lie breezily. “Had to stock up on my baking ingredients if I’m going to keep you lot fed. Did you see the cookies I brought?”

Clay isn’t distracted. “Then how about the two nights before that? Because you weren’t home then either.”

Busted. I wasn’t giving up yet. “Are you spying on me?”

“We’re being concerned about our friend,” Shane says from where his foot is against a wall. Despite the fact it’s above his head, he still finds time to glare at me. “First you hide away over Adam’s anniversary, and then you start showing up to rehearsal with a stranger. A very sexy, but very dangerous looking stranger.”

I recall how easily Samson disarmed the mugger. The surety and strength in his movements. How they contrasted with the way he cradled me like I was fragile. Special. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”