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But she always started again. “Has she ever been to rehab?”
“Kinda. They weren’t good ones, just programs for people who can’t afford better ones.” He looked at me, his gaze the most open I’d ever seen it. “She’s not one of those alcoholics that’s mean or abusive. She never hit me, yelled at me, or called me names. Nothin’ like that. She just doesn’t know how not to be sad and lonely.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not a lot of pressure and responsibility on you.”
He shrugged. “I’m all right. I got a job and a good friend and I’m fuckin’ this really hot guy every weekend.”
“So you’re just going to keep on doing this same thing forever? What about you?”
“What about me? What else am I gonna do, Emerson? I wouldn’t know the first thing about existing outside of Ryland. I can’t even say for sure I want to. Some days I think I might die if I don’t get out, and others I think it’d kill me if I left. This is all I know.”
“Yes, but you should have the choice.”
“I do. I can leave if I want to. I just choose to stay. We always have choices. We might not like ’em, but that don’t mean we don’t have ’em. Like you. I think you were raised in a place like this. The way you work the land and know how to take care of the animals…this ain’t your first rodeo. You chose to leave and never look back, right?”
Dread ran a gnarled hand down my spine. How had he known that? How did it make him see me? My instinct was to shut down, to change the subject, but he’d just opened himself up to me. I should give him this. I couldn’t tell him about Daniel, but I could give him this. “Yes, though my childhood was different from yours. When I was eighteen years old, my dad caught me in the barn with one of his ranch hands. Told the guy to leave, and he did, then beat the shit out of me and told me to leave and not come back. So I left, and that was that.”
“Jesus. What about your mom?”
“She would never go against something he said even if she wanted to. I don’t think she did, though. She was disgusted with me, I could see it. I tried to call once, years later.” After Daniel. I didn’t know what possessed me to think they would care. That they would be on my side.
“What happened?”
“She told me not to call again, and I didn’t.”
He cocked his head slightly as if that would help him see whatever it was he was trying to find inside me. It was something; I could feel it. It had been there even when he just came to deliver packages. “Don’t you start feeling sorry for me now. If I’m not allowed, you’re not either.”
I picked up a piece of potato and threw it at him. It hit Sam in the chest, then fell to his thigh. He picked it up and started to eat the thing.
“That’s gross.”
“I like raw potatoes, and I’m not feelin’ sorry for you. I just see now why the sadness has its claws dug in so deep. That’s not all of it, but you gave me somethin’, and I’m considering that a win.”
It wasn’t the first time Sam left me speechless, and I doubted it would be the last. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known. There wasn’t a mean bone in his body. I had a feeling there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do or give to someone else, and he was wise beyond his years, but still so youthful too.
I was scared to death I’d ruin him.
Or that he’d find out about Daniel and the way he looked at me would change.
Twenty-two stab wounds.
Crime of passion.
Boyfriend, Bentley Fox, arrested for murder.
Killer.
“Emerson?”
“Hmm?” I shook away the thoughts.
“You’re not doin’ a very good job at feeding me. If you don’t hurry, I’m gonna eat raw potatoes for dinner. You’re not being a very good host.”
Just like that, I smiled. “Well, if you weren’t such a needy little thing.”
“Little thing? I’m not sure I like that.”
“I wasn’t talking about your cock.”
“Well, no shit. He’s a monster.” Sam jumped off the counter. “Also, I’m not sittin’ around waitin’ no more. If we’re ever gonna eat, looks like I gotta help. You’re not allowed to say no because then I’ll get sad, and I’ve decided no more sadness tonight. You don’t wanna be responsible for breaking my heart, do you?” He crossed his arms.
“Are you manipulating me? I’m pretty sure you’re manipulating me.”
“Yes. I’m assuming the ground beef is in the fridge.” He walked over and plucked it out. I didn’t argue with him while he made the patties, then filled a pan with oil for the fries and began heating it. I just chopped potatoes beside him, telling myself I didn’t have a choice when I knew I did.
