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I wanted that. Christ, I wanted that so fucking much. “How do I do it?”
“You just do.” He shrugged. “I don’t have all the answers. I’m good but not that good.” He inhaled some of the cigar into his lungs. I realized I hadn’t smoked mine at all.
My dream from last night played through my head. It was different than usual. Daniel had known. He’d told me I hadn’t been in love with him…that I was in love with Sam.
The small, sad smile he gave me.
The nod of his head.
The silence and the way Daniel had drifted away, and how I’d known it was the last time I would have that nightmare.
I didn’t know if it was Daniel giving his permission for me to move on, or if it was me giving it to myself, telling myself it was time and that I loved Sam. That he filled in those cracks and holes inside me. Daniel was gone if I let him be, and Sam was there if I’d just let myself have him.
On Sunday I was working in the garden, Charles was tanning, when I heard the familiar rumble of Sam’s truck pulling down the driveway. I’d been hearing it for so long now, at first when he would deliver packages, trying not to make it obvious he was interested and then working hard so I knew he was.
It was still crazy, trying to wrap my head around how we’d gotten from there to here. How the constant unease in my soul settled when I knew he was close.
“Sam’s here!” Charles called out as if I didn’t know, lifting his sunglasses from his face and setting them on his head.
“No shit,” I teased. I stood up just as he got out of the truck. One look at him told me something was wrong. His eyes were cautious and concerned, sadness making them seem darker than usual. Nerves immediately pricked the back of my neck, slid down my spine, shot through my body.
“What happened? Is it your mom? Is everything okay with her?”
Charles, too, must have realized something was going on because he approached us. Sam’s gaze darted to him before landing on me, all sorrow and heartbreak and fear.
“Yeah, um, she’s all right.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. When he opened them again, I saw that Sam would rather be anywhere other than where he was.
My worry grew, making nausea sweep through my gut. “What is it?” I asked, my voice cold and detached, even to me.
“They know, Em. Don’t know how, but they do. Everyone in town is talkin’ about it.”
Charles cursed softly.
“About you? Us?” I asked, even though I knew that wasn’t what he was saying—they didn’t know that Sam was queer or that we were…whatever we were; they knew about me. But I didn’t want to believe it.
He shook his head. “Molls called me this mornin’. She went to the diner, and everyone was talkin’ about it. She was worried about me because she didn’t think I knew. She thought…”
She assumed I’d killed Daniel and that I was hiding it from Sam.
She thought I would hurt him too.
And why wouldn’t she believe that?
“I didn’t say anything, Em. I swear on my life I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you. I—”
“I think it was me,” Charles interrupted. He looked like he was going to be sick. “I wasn’t thinking when I went in for our food. I asked for a to-go order for Bentley Fox, and that flirty waitress said there was only Emerson Fox. I’m so used to calling you Bent, I just didn’t think… And then afterward, I didn’t even consider that she might look up the name. She flirted…fuck, she asked me where I was from. How could I have been so stupid? Of course she would be curious when she realized you had another name.” He ran a hand through his hair, looked at me with his pupils blown wide and eyes filled with regret. “I fucked up. I’m so goddamned sorry. I know that’s not good enough, but—”
“It’s fine,” I said, no emotion in my voice. How could it be there if I didn’t let myself feel anything? I’d tried with Sam, but now everything was going to crash around me again. “It was bound to happen at some point.”
Charles reached for me, put a hand on my arm. “Bent…”
“I said I’m fine.” I turned to Sam. “How bad is it?”
“It don’t matter. They don’t matter. We know the truth. Who gives a shit about the rest of ’em?”
So it was bad.
When I’d come to Ryland, all I’d wanted was to disappear. To find peace in a place where no one knew my past. I’d had that for a while, and now I’d lost it.
Sicko!
Murderer!
Twenty-two stab wounds.
Crime of passion.
