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“It seems so, although I have no idea why. Our entire relationship was centered around how I couldn’t do anything the way he wanted.”
“Carter…” He reaches over to squeeze my hand.
I shake my head but don’t let go of his hand. “It’s fine. I finally came to my senses a few months ago and broke up with him, but he is not happy I stood up to him.”
“Have you thought about blocking him?”
“Only every time he tries to contact me. But a part of me is afraid that when finds out he can’t contact me anymore, he’ll show up at my house or something.”
Sam frowns. “If you’re scared of him, you should talk to the police. Trust me, I’m well acquainted with how quickly a narcissist can snap.”
“There’s nothing they can do, and besides, he prefers to use his words instead of his fists.”
I can tell Sam isn’t happy with my response, but if he has the experience he says he does, he’ll know I’m not wrong. Chase hasn’t done anything to require a restraining order, nor has he gotten physical with me. I don’t believe I’m in danger from him, but it would be nice if I didn’t have to deal with the random messages anymore. I’m hoping he’ll move on to find another guy to tear down soon and leave me alone.
“How long were you together?” Sam asks.
“Too long. Around eight months,” I grumble. I shouldn’t have let it go on for as long as I did. There was just something in me that wanted to please him. I wanted to do better, be better for him. I thought maybe if I was perfect, he’d finally love me as much as I loved him. How wrong I was. “Over the holidays, I thought things had finally gotten better. We were happy, and I even told my brothers about him. And then I had this huge project start at work that required way more hours than usual. He started belittling me about everything he could think of—many of which were things I couldn’t control. I finally had enough and broke up with him.”
“Good for you for standing up for yourself. That’s not easy when an abuser has controlled everything about your relationship for so long.”
“Have you dated someone like that?”
“Not me. My mom. She always finds the shittiest guys, but instead of finding her way out on her own, I usually have to help her. That’s why I had to leave O’Malley’s the other night. She’d gotten into a huge fight with her ex, and he punched her.”
My heart breaks for Sam. I can’t imagine how exhausting that would be, both emotionally and physically. “You must worry about her often.”
“All the time.” The vulnerable look on Sam’s face makes me want to hug him. “It’s incredibly frustrating. How many times can you make the same mistakes over and over before you finally learn your lesson?”
“Lord knows I’ve learned mine, that’s for sure. But men like that are master manipulators. They can trick you into believing they’re a good guy with barely any effort.”
Sam tilts his head in acknowledgment. “I can understand that. And my mom fully believes in soul mates, so she dates as many guys as she can to try to find hers.”
“Do you believe in soul mates?”
“Not in the slightest.” Sam laughs. “There are plenty of people out there who could be a good match, but the important part is their commitment to the relationship and whether or not they’re willing to work for it.”
“Agreed. My parents have been married for almost forty years, and they constantly tell us that the two most important things for a lasting relationship are commitment and communication.”
“I love that.” Sam’s hazel eyes soften as he looks at me. “I’m glad you had that example growing up. It’s something I’ve always wanted for myself.”
“Me, too. I just haven’t seemed to pick the right guys to do it with.”
“Well”—Sam picks up his beer and holds it out to me—“here’s to new beginnings with the right people.”
It’s as if a starting gun goes off when we clink our glasses against each other. I’m just not sure I’m ready for whatever happens next.
CHAPTER 9
Sam
Igroan. My head is pounding with my pulse. God, I feel like shit. With extreme caution, in the hopes of not making my headache worse, I reach over to grab my phone. The screen lights up, and I squint to read the numbers as pain rhythmically thumps through me.
What the fuck did I drink last night? After Carter and I shared vulnerabilities, we decided to move on to more fun topics, which was when we got into our favorite drinks in college. I forced him to try a pineapple upside-down shot, and he told me my life would change when I tried a Jolly Rancher shot. Then several more shots followed with the guys, and everything after that is a bit of a blur.
A text notification forces me to blink the sleep from my eyes, and I attempt to sit up. I wait for my head to stop spinning before I read the message.
Carter
