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I can’t say the last bit with confidence. It’s a lie, after all.
“Katy, wait—”
But I won’t. I hurry away from the table, my cheeks burning. Here I am, ranting at a complete stranger that I’m oh-so mature, yet tears are in my eyes. I’m about to break down like a baby. Like a scared girl sitting in her bedroom with her knees to her chest, cheeks stinging with tears, as she listens to her mom yelling and partying in the next room.
Throwing my trash away, I put my headphones on and let the music block out the rest of the world. Luckily, the next item on my to-do list is the basement. Usually, I’d hate jobs like this, but after that bizarre conversation, I’m looking forward to it.
Now, I won’t just be metaphorically hiding away in the dark, ignoring reality, pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Now, I’ll actually be doing it. Heading downstairs, I turn up the volume on my headset. I’m listening to Pagan-style music, lots of deep-voiced singing combined with drums and howls. It’s primal in the extreme, just like my connection to Sam.
Primal in the sense that it’s innate, natural. I don’t have to question it. It’s like I said to Stacy. I know I want him the same way I know the sky is blue, but will that be enough?
I take out my phone, meaning to change the music, but I can’t resist the urge to check if Sam has texted me. Nope, nothing. Of course not. He’s busy. I need to stop being so needy and immature, but I’m not sure I can.
CHAPTER 16
Katy
It’s been four days since I last texted Sam. I’ve worked on three of them, and now, on the fourth, I sit in the living room trying to focus on a television show. I’m hardly watching it, my thoughts constantly going to Sam, to what he’s doing and thinking.
Did I push too hard? I don’t think he’s lying to me, exactly, but I can’t help but wonder about that. Maybe he took the job to have an ironclad reason to shut me up. No, that’s silly. He’s helping people. Innocent victims. People who have been through more than I can even imagine.
Mom’s at the kitchen sink, humming softly as she does the dishes, becoming more and more like her truly sober self each day. She says she likes to handwash the dishes. She wants to stay busy. She seems a little manic, but that’s better than the alternative.
“No!” Eli suddenly exclaims.
I turn, finding him leaning forward on his cane. He’s been watching the TV show far closer than me. “What’s wrong?”
“Blindly watching, girl?” Eli snaps. “This none-too-fine gentleman has bewitched this poor lass. Look.”
The con man character is kissing the female protagonist. Maybe that’s my real reason for not watching the show too closely. I don’t want to think of Sam as a con man, but what if he isn’t the man in the photo? What if he’s using a voice changer? Deep fakes? Something like that?
But we have a bond that goes beyond looks, don’t we? I need to calm down. A bond. What am I thinking?
“Ah, I see.”
“Silly princess will soon see he’s a toad, I’d wager,” Eli says.
I nod, then pick up my phone. Nothing since he told me he’s leaving to help his friend. I’ve wanted to text him several times but keep stopping myself, not wanting to seem needy, but that’s the thing. I do need more from him.
I’ve got a plan. I don’t know if it will work, but it’s an idea I’ve been itching to try. I just have to wait for the right time.
“Weep a river because you couldn’t see the truth.” Eli smiles sadly. “A more vicious vein has never been mined.”
Mom keeps humming while Eli smiles. They both have their problems. Eli hasn’t once mentioned his son, but they seem happy here. I wonder what it would be like if Mom could stay, watering her plants at the kitchen window, working on her cross-stitch, and doing simple things that make her happy.
My chance comes that night when the console makes an alert noise. It’s past midnight. I sit up in bed, looking at the screen.
Sam is attempting to access a video connection. Allow? Yes/No
My hand is shaking as I reach over, pressing yes. The red light of the camera blinks on in the darkness. I switch on the bedside lamp, looking up at it, feeling vulnerable somehow, yet not in a negative way. It’s more like my big, bad, steamy man is going to take what’s his, me, and there’s nothing I even want to do about it.
“Hello, Katy,” he says, his voice husky.
I reach for my phone and type out a message. Can we text, please? I don’t want to disturb the others.
