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When he shakes his head, I feel disheartened—like he’s snapping my olive branch once again. However, I’m relieved moments later. “How about we just start fresh?”
“I’d like that.” Feeling a surge of confidence sweep over me, I lean over the armrest and extend my hand. “Hi.” Saxon looks down at the gesture, curling his lip in humor. I ignore him and continue. “My name is Lucy. Lucy Tucker.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Saxon Stone.” When his warm palm swallows mine whole, an unforeseen, invisible charge coils around my arm and doesn’t let go. The zap is so unexpected, I yank my hand away, a startled gasp escaping me.
I know Saxon felt it too because the hand I just shook sits bunched in a fist by his side. I suddenly feel my cheeks heat and I don’t know why. I’m embarrassed, confused, and I think, a little flustered.
Saxon lifts the bottle to his lips, throwing back the contents quickly.
Before I have time to process what the hell just happened, red and blue lights flash across my front yard. It appears this night has just gone from bad to worse.
Saxon stands, shaking his head. “Looks like we know where Sam is.” Offering me his hand, I accept, afraid my jelly legs won’t hold me up without the support.
I want to run down there, hug, scream, and slap him, but I don’t. Both Saxon and I watch the burly police officer get out of the patrol car and open the door for Sam. Sam exits, and the way he wavers on his feet hints that he’s drunk. He looks dirty and disheveled.
“Great,” I mumble under my breath. “His first day out of the hospital and he gets wasted.” Saxon sighs. He takes the stairs and meets the officer in the middle of the yard.
I walk towards the railing and lean on it, watching rather than interfering. I seem to make things worse, so I decide standing this one out may be best for everyone. Samuel tries to high five Saxon, but Saxon doesn’t humor him one iota.
“It would be pointless asking if you know this man because I can see that you do,” the officer says to Saxon. “He was up at the Pink Cat causing trouble with the girls. They aren’t going to press any charges.”
My stomach turns for so many reasons. At the forefront is the fact my fiancé was at a strip club. I’m not uptight, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t care, but what I’m faced with is so far from normal that I do care—very much.
“Thank you for bringing him home, Officer.” Saxon makes no excuse for Samuel’s lewd behavior. “Did you happen to see a silver Jeep at the premises?”
“No, I did not.” The officer passes Saxon Sam’s wallet. “Your parents are good folks, son. If this were anyone else’s son, I would have hauled his ass in and let him sleep off his drunkenness in a cell. You,” the officer turns to look at Sam, who is peering up into the night sky, stumbling on his feet. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“Look at the Big Dipper!” Samuel cries, pointing to the heavens. He obviously doesn’t appreciate the seriousness of the situation. The officer and Saxon shake hands, while Sam ambles off, oblivious to how lucky he is.
He wanders around the yard with his arms outstretched, his fingers brushing against theshrubbery as he chuckles happily. He stops occasionally to smell the flowers. Once the police car is down the driveway, Saxon storms over and yanks him around to face him. I push off the railing and stand at the top step, watching anxiously.
“Are you fucking high?” He doesn’t remove his hand from Sam’s forearm.
Samuel laughs manically. “Yes, I am. And very, very drunk,” he slurs.
High? Samuel never smoked weed. But it appears I’m wrong. How did I miss this? Saxon’s comment about Samuel fooling his parents sounds loudly in my ears.
“There was a time when you liked to smoke with Jonno and me. Remember?”
Jonno? As in Jonathan Whelan, his best friend from high school?
“We were sixteen, Sam. We were kids. We’re now adults. How about you start acting like one?”
“Fuck you, man,” Sam scowls, jerking his arm out from Saxon’s grip.
“You can’t just take off like that. Lucy was freaking out.” He points at me. I appreciate his concern.
“What about you, Sax? Wereyoufreaking out?” he asks disdainfully. Jealousy seeps from Sam whenever Saxon comes to my aid. That could be another reason why he sees me as the enemy.
The rage emanates off Saxon. “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass where you go. Your temper tantrums are old news to me. Get inside.”
Sam sneers. “You’re not Dad. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“No one can tell you what to do, Sam, that’s the problem.” Saxon’s tone is resolute, but Samuel doesn’t seem to care.
“What happened to you? You used to be so fun. I hardly recognize you anymore.” He shakes his head, appearing disgusted.
Saxon glares at him. “I grew up. Unlike you, Sam, I left this shithole and made a life for myself outside Mom’s pussy!”
