AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How did you become friends?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
A shadow passed over Thomas’s features. “I was young, bitter, and angry when I met Sam. I was in the worst place of my entire life, and trust me, I was used to being dealt a shitty hand in life. I wasn’t interested in being saved or trusting another human being ever again. Sam didn’t give up on me, and he didn’t let me give up on myself either. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably have died a long time ago.”
I closed my eyes, picturing the rooftop garden and the night I met Sam. That night had shaped my future, changed me in fundamental ways. And it had led me to Youngblood, where I met Jules and Gayle and Shawn. I couldn’t even imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t run into him that night when I was fifteen.
I could picture Sam with a younger Thomas, giving him the same push he’d given me.
Shawn came back in with a plate of food and several glasses of water. “What did I miss?”
“Piper and I were just trying to understand each other a little better,” Thomas answered.
I spent all afternoon with Shawn and Thomas, telling stories and playing games. When five o’clock rolled around, I said my goodbyes and headed for the elevators, having every intention of leaving the building in search of food.
Those plans went out the window the second the elevator doors opened to reveal Sam.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I was visiting with Thomas and Shawn. Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”
Sam’s gaze swept up and down my body, lingering on my chest before settling on my face. “Where are you going?”
“To get dinner.”
“Have you ever been to La Bella Notte?” he asked.
“No.” The Italian restaurant on the second floor of the building was the kind of place where you had to book a table weeks in advance. It also wasn’t the kind of place one went to eat by themselves, and I’d never bring a date to a restaurant right above Youngblood. This building was my sanctuary, one I’d never risk tarnishing with bad memories.
“Come on. I’ll buy you dinner.”
I glanced down at my casual outfit. “I can’t go to dinner like this. Besides, I don’t have a reservation.”
Sam scoffed as he grabbed my wrist and tugged me into the elevator. “The first time I met you, you were wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants that were three sizes too big. When did you turn into a vain fashionista?”
“I’m not vain,” I snapped even as I was still processing the fact that he remembered what I was wearing eight years ago.
Sam’s dark eyes shone with challenge. “Then prove it.”
“By going to dinner in one of the most highly regarded restaurants in the city in jeans withholesin them?”
“Show me you don’t give a damn what everyone around you thinks. Someone’s always going to judge you or not like you for something or other. You’re better off just being yourself, doing whatyouwant and letting them think whatever they want.”
“I don’t want the attention,” I admitted in a whisper.
He backed me against the wall of the elevator. “What do you plan on doing when you have children looking up to you? When they need you to stand up for them and be on their side? You don’t want the attention? Well, that’s the example you’re going to set for them. They’re going to grow up believing that they should let the world tell them to be less than they are because it’s easier than being real.”
Every word felt like a bullet to the chest. He was hitting right where it hurt, and I was pretty sure he knew it.
“The truth hurts, Siren. You’re going to need a thicker skin if you plan on going through with your adoption and foster plans, because trust me, those kids are going to need you to be stronger than you could possibly imagine.” He shoved away from me and reached for the row of buttons next to the elevator doors.
“Sam, wait.” I grabbed his bicep, feeling his muscles tense under my fingers. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
He looked down at me with a smirk. “Nice to know you’re capable of admitting it.” His finger pushed the button for the second floor.
I debated bringing up the reservation issue again, but I’d let the host or hostess deal with that argument.
La Bella Notte didn’t have the views of the rooftop restaurants in Boston. There weren’t many windows and the lighting was dim, giving the dining room an intimate feel. The walls were dark wood and red wallpaper with sconces that matched the iron chandeliers spaced every twenty feet or so. The restaurant could have existed anywhere in the world, but it was known for having the best Italian food in Downtown and had a reputation for being a place visited by the city’s most wealthy. When you lived in Boston, you didn’t have to prove it by always eating at places with views of the skyline.
Sam didn’t hesitate as he took my hand and led me right past the hostess, who didn’t so much as blink at us. We got some looks from the other diners, but if Sam noticed, he didn’t care.
