Come to Me Recklessly (22 page)

She nodded, laid back on the overflowing pile of pillows stacked against my headboard. She lifted her phone, twisted up into the silliest face, and snapped a picture of herself.

I chuckled. “He’s going to know you’re drunk. Those fuzzy eyes are a dead giveaway.”

A soft giggle floated from her, and she tinkered around on her phone, talking while she added a frame and a message. “Well, I am drunk, so not much can be done about that. And I pretty much tell Stewart everything.”

I glanced at the photo, Samantha looking like the angel she was as she posed for her brother. It read,
That’s because you’re missing me
, across the top. She pressed
SEND
.

Five seconds later, her phone buzzed with a regular text, and I snuggled in closer so I could read what he said.
Where are you?

Samantha cringed. So apparently she didn’t tell him
everything
.

She tapped out a quick response.
At a friend’s.

It took all of three seconds for him to respond.

In their bed?
 

Another quickly followed.

Who is this friend?
 

“Nosy little bugger,” Samantha mumbled. A smile tipped the edge of her mouth. “I swear to God, he should write books. His imagination is off the charts. I’m sure he’s imagining all kinds of salacious scenarios right about now.”

She was swift to change the subject.
How are you feeling?

Time stopped when she got his response.
Like I’m dying.

She shook when she attempted to type out her answer, and I just lay there frozen, watching her denial, the shake of her head and the way her fingers frantically beat at the keypad as if she could force it not to be true.

“Why does he have to say stuff like that?” she begged through a pained whisper, looking at me helplessly, before she sent her reply.

No, you’re not. You’re not giving up, Stewart. I won’t let you.
 

Two minutes later, her phone beeped again.

I love you more than anything in this world. You know that, don’t you?
 

Her response was instant.

Yes. And YOU are what makes this world great. You know that, don’t you?
 

She waited for his return, but when none came after a few minutes, she tossed her phone down toward the end of my bed and slumped back onto my pillows.

I pulled her by the waist to face me. “You okay?”

Contemplating, she slanted her eyes to her fingers that were twisting in my dark comforter, mixing in with the fabric of my shirt, her short fingernails grazing the material. Tormented eyes flicked up to meet mine, and they punched me with another shock of heartache.

Her voice trembled. “Not if he’s not. I hate knowing he’s in his room alone, in pain, pretending like he just can’t sleep. I hate knowing he’s suffering and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”

“How could you think for a second you’re doing nothing for him, Samantha? You’ve always taken care of him. Been there for him so he wouldn’t feel alone. And after all this time? It’s obvious you still do the same. Why do you think it’s
you
he messaged in the middle of the night?”

Her brow creased in grief and hope.

“Because he knows he can count on you,” I continued, taking her hand and weaving it in mine. “He knows you’re there to listen when he needs you. That you love him with everything. You think that doesn’t ease some of his suffering?”

“I’d give up everything for him, Christopher. Switch places in a heartbeat. I was so hopeful that I’d get to be a bone marrow donor for him, but I didn’t match.”

I heard the heartbreak quivering in her tone, and her eyes glistened with moisture, emotion thick in her throat.

And God, I didn’t mean to let it, but a tear broke free and streaked down the side of my face. It fucking destroyed me seeing her this way, seeing him
that
way. I’d hoped with all the hope I’d had left in me that he’d be okay, that he’d grow up to live a normal life like he deserved to.

Samantha released my hand and reached out with her knuckle to gather the wet trail running down my temple, like maybe she was comforting me. “Why does it feel like you’re the only one who really understands?” she asked.

I took her hand back, squeezing it, a soft puff of air huffing from my nose. “I don’t think I could ever really understand everything you’ve been through. But I’ve always loved him, Samantha. I never stopped.”

She stilled, biting at her lip, something fierce taking over her expression. “Have you? Have you really? You weren’t just pretending?”

A frown cut between my eyes, and I shook my head in question. “Of course I loved him. He’s about the coolest kid I’ve ever met. In all these years, don’t think a day ever passed that I didn’t think about him.”

That I didn’t think about you.
 

The doubt in her expression turned wistful, and a smile wobbled at the corner of her mouth. I realized how close we’d gotten, the lengths of our bodies pressed together, so close I could feel her heart beating beneath her shirt.

Rueful laughter slipped almost unheard from between her lips. “Do you remember when you took him skateboarding for the first time? He still says that was the best day of his life.”

Quietly I laughed and tucked her closer. “I almost had a heart attack when he fell. Scraped himself up good. He was such a brave little man. Didn’t want to cry in front of me.”

Blue eyes glistened, shimmering in sorrow and love.

Was it possible for her to still feel some of that love for me? After all the shit I’d done?

I swallowed over the lump lodged in my throat. “And you,” I said, my voice hoarse, “you took the fall for us all, telling your mom he tripped on the sidewalk when you were walking him home from tutoring.”

She trembled a grin. “Tutoring I was supposed to get him to, but you had better plans.”

Smiling, I swept her hair from her forehead, her hand still warm in mine. “Stewart thought it was a better plan, too.”

“Yes, he did… and he still does to this day.” Her voice deepened with meaning. “You were his favorite person in the world.”

Emotion tugged at the edge of my lips. “He’s always been real high on my list, too.” On my fingers, I could count the people in my life who really mattered. Ella. Aly and Jared. My family.

Stewart.

And the girl shivering in my arms.

“I’m so scared for him… scared of what my life might look like without him in it.” Samantha could no longer hold it in, and she sobbed quietly into my shoulder, clutching my shirt.

Tears soaked through. I pulled her closer, wove one hand in her hair, cradled the back of her head. I’d give anything to take some of her pain away. “Shh…”

She struggled to get closer.

“I’ve got you,” I promised, my touch gentle as I ran my fingers through the length of her soft-as-silk hair, threading them in.

I don’t know how long she cried for, but eventually she took in a couple of gasping breaths, shuddering as the heightened emotion and alcohol in her system steadily drew her toward sleep. I kissed the top of her head, giving her whatever comfort I could.

She shifted, and her nose dug into my collarbone as if she were seeking a way inside. The words were choppy and rough, barely audible. Still they tore through me as if she’d screamed them in my ear. “I miss you.”

She exhaled heavily, the smell of candied alcohol filtering over my face. I would have laughed had it not hurt so bad.

I held her close, listening to her breaths steadily even out, and this girl dragged me right along behind her, lulled me with the sweet smell of her hair, the slow rhythm of her heart, and the goodness in her spirit.

And for the first time in my life, I drifted off to sleep next to Samantha Schultz.

“Oh my God,” Samantha gasped.

Blunted fingernails scraped against my chest. Disoriented, I shot up in bed in the same second Samantha scrambled off of it, ripping all her perfect warmth from me when she did.

Horror etched her face. In the muted light, wide blue eyes watched me with flat-out mortification and shame, and I jerked my attention down. Somehow I’d lost my jeans and shirt in the night. There was nothing worse than sleeping in your clothes, and I must have fumbled out of them in my sleep.

So there I sat, covered up by nothing but my underwear, trying to blink off the best sleep I’d had in years while Samantha gaped at me like she’d just realized she’d been kneeling at Satan’s seat.

“Oh my God,” she said again, tearing her eyes away from my bare chest, hands shaking as she began to search frantically for her phone in the covers.

“Samantha.” I said her name, trying to break into whatever freak-out she was having, but I didn’t make a dent.

“What did I do… what did I do?” she mumbled miserably, chanting it repeatedly like a petitioned prayer. She almost sobbed in relief when she finally found her phone. Clutching it to her chest, she darted around the bed, ducked down to grab her shoes, then broke out into a sprint as she ran from the room.

What in the ever-loving fuck?
 

Everything kicked into gear, and I jumped from the bed and dragged on my jeans. I didn’t take the time to bother with a shirt or shoes.

By the time I made it out into the living room, Samantha was already flying out the front door.

I raced after her, tearing the door open when she slammed it in my face.

“Samantha,” I hissed out, just barely above the dull drone of crickets, trying to get her attention without waking up the neighborhood. Terrified, she looked over her shoulder at me and increased her speed.

Barefoot, in the middle of the night, and she was running away.

You have got to be kiddin’ me.
 

I was right behind her, and I grabbed her elbow in an attempt to talk some sense into her. She flung my hand off, held her shoes and phone to her chest like a shield of protection.

“Stay away from me.”

“What the fuck, Samantha? You’re going to walk home in the middle of the night without any shoes on? Are you out of your mind?”

“Apparently so.”

I moved to keep up with her, hissing in pain when I stepped on something so fucking sharp I was sure it was now impaled in the bottom of my foot. Goddamn emotional women.

“Come on, Samantha. At least let me give you a ride home. It’s not safe for you to take off like this.”

“I’m not safe around you,” she shot back.

I glanced back toward my house fading in the distance, then back to Samantha, who ran down the sidewalk, ducking her head with her shoulders hunched as if it would hide her.

I swung at the air, an aimless punch, confused and frustrated and straight-up pissed off.

Evidently, I couldn’t do one single thing right.

But the one thing I was positive would be wrong was letting her stumble home in the middle of the night.

It took me all of two minutes to run back to my house, grab my keys, and jump in my truck. I tore out of the garage, the engine thundering when I threw it in gear and hit the gas, another thirty seconds to gain on the girl who was about to make me lose my mind.

Beaten down, Samantha limped along the sidewalk. Visibly she cringed when I pulled up beside her. I rolled down the passenger-side window. “Get in the truck, Samantha.”

She shook her head emphatically, refusing to look my way.

“Come on, Samantha, this is absolutely ridiculous. You’d rather walk two miles in the dark than let me give you a ride that will take all of five minutes? You hung out with me all night. What could five more minutes hurt?”

She stopped, slowly turned her head in my direction. Her face was soaked with tears. “Everything hurts.”

My heart squeezed and my stomach dropped, and I sighed in frustration. “Just get in. You know I can’t leave you out here by yourself.”

She averted her gaze to her bare feet, and I saw the second she gave in. Cautious and slow, she shuffled forward and climbed in my truck. She shut the door with a soft click, the darkness that always seemed the safest swallowing us up, just the muted green lights on the dash giving light to her face, that gorgeous silhouette I’d memorized so long ago.

I didn’t want it to just be a memory anymore.

In silence, I drove to her house, pulled up at the street in front. I threw it in park but didn’t cut the engine.

I could barely look at the home that outwardly was almost identical to Aly’s, the walls that housed her life a place I’d never be welcome in because she shared them with someone else. Someone I knew in my heart was wrong for her, someone I couldn’t help hating.

Because she belonged with me.

Anger and resentment burned through my blood, her reaction to waking up in bed with me tearing me in two. Those fucking sick visions assaulted me anew, the ones where I couldn’t keep from picturing what happened inside this place, the tragedy of this girl being touched by hands other than mine.

I fisted the steering wheel.

Samantha just sat there, staring at her lap.

I bit back the bitterness and leaned toward her, my head cocked to the side in an attempt to get her to look at me. To
see
me.

She seemed to be gathering her courage. Cautiously she looked my way, worry and guilt snuffing out all the light.

And that shit pissed me off, too.

Her tongue darted out, making a swift pass along her bottom lip, the plump flesh glistening with moisture.

Hunger pelted me, my straining cock cutting off all sensible thought to my head.

What the hell was happening to me?

I didn’t know up from down because this girl had twisted me inside out.

“D-d-did we…?” Samantha stammered the words as if they were her dirtiest, darkest secret, her blue eyes all awash with a girl so full of loyalty it meant she shunned what she really wanted.

Because it was there, too… longing. Like somewhere inside she was hoping it was true.

My dick jerked, and I shifted close enough so my face got all up in her space, so close I could taste each of her panted breaths.