Falling to Pieces (14 page)

 
Jerk!

Catching my
reflection in the mirror, I realize that Sam is probably really laughing at
this horrid, hot mess on my head. Good Lord, I look like Medusa with my curls
sticking out all over the place. I need to tame this beast before I go
anywhere. It is still semi-damp, so I spray it lightly with water before
scrunching the curls up with mousse. A little water and mousse can make a world
of difference when it came to my hair.

Looking down
at my chest, I notice Sam left a few love tattoos. But, at least he was nice
enough to leave his where they could be hidden. I bit him right where his neck
meets his shoulder. After he put his shirt back on I noticed the discolored
skin peaking out of the collar.

Oopsie
.

A deep
rumbling comes from my stomach, reminding me of the task at hand. I quickly
apply a light layer of mineral powder and mascara before exiting the bathroom.
My room is empty when I enter so I slip on my sandals and grab my bag before
heading out to the living room.

I barely make
it out of the hallway when I am assaulted from the side and arms embrace me so
tightly, I can hardly breathe.

“Never, and I
mean never, leave here mad or upset with me ever again. Do you hear me Cheyenne
Thomas?” Sawyer squeeze fiercely with every ounce of strength she has in her.

“Can’t…breathe…”
I try to get out the words and thankfully she releases her vice grip and smiles
apologetically. “I am sorry for being an asshole yesterday. It’s getting close
to that time of month and stupid crap is just getting to me. You know I love
you and I understand that you have Preston now, so I’m not your person
anymore.”

“Are you
kidding me? Chey, you will always be my person. I don’t care if we are sixty
and married with kids and grandkids. You will always be my person.”

“I love you,
friend.” I open my arms and Sawyer takes the invite, luckily giving me a
lighter hug this time.

“I love you
too. Just don’t scare me like that again. I demanded Preston to take me to
Chad’s so I could be with you, but he insisted that you would be well taken
care of with that guy in there.” Sawyer jokes tilting her head towards the
kitchen, where Sam is sitting watching us with humor in his eyes.

If she only
knew how well he just took care of me. I turn away from her, walking to Sam, in
attempt to hide my flushed skin. The memory of what had transpired in my bed
gets me all worked up. Sam is the first guy that has been in my room here and
definitely the first to be in my bed. I refused to ever bring guys back here.
For one, I didn’t want them to know where I live, you know, safety precautions.
Second, I felt that they would taint the sanctuary feel of my room. But with
Sam, like everything else, it just feels right.

As I get
closer, his smug smile falls and his eyes are filled with heat. Seeing the
blush that masks my face, he knows exactly what I was just thinking about.

I grab his
hand, as I walk by and pull him behind me. “Come on, hot shot, I am starving
and I owe you lunch.”

Walking
through the threshold of the doorway I feel his arms wrap around my middle and he
stops me, pulling my back against his chest.

“Hmmm…” He
hums into my ear and shivers run down my back. “You haven’t called me that in a
long time.” He whispers, referring to the nickname I gave him in high school
after taking our baseball team to the championship.

“Old habit, I
guess.”

Sam begins
walking forward, still pressed against my back. At the sound of the door
clicking shut behind us, I am whipped around and pressed up against him. With my
arms held up above my head, and his hands around my wrists, his mouth lands on
my neck as I lean to the side, giving him better access.

Food can wait. We should go back inside. Right now.

I attempt to
push my lower half away from the door to make contact with him, but he releases
my hands and backs away out of my reach. I groan at the absence of his mouth on
tender skin of my neck.

He reaches
for my hand and pulls me away from the door and down the stairs. When we get to
his truck, Sam opens the door and makes sure I am settled and buckled before
closing it and heading to his side to get in.

Jumping in
the drivers seat, he starts the truck and takes a deep breath before looking
over to me. “You have no idea what you do to me, Cheyenne.”

Shaking his
head in thought, he returns his attention to the road and backs out of the
parking spot.

Though I
don’t have the right words to say, I do have an idea, because he does the same
to me.

Throwing cash
down on the table, Sam grabs my hand leading me out of the restaurant in a
hurry. He had just hung up the phone with whom I could only assume was a
frantic Mrs. Carter, and from the gathered bits and pieces I overheard, it was
regarding Sam’s father.

“Sorry to
rush you out like that, hope you had enough to eat. I need to get home and get
packed.” Sam says as we make our way to the parking lot.

“It’s not a problem,
I ate plenty. Is everything okay?” I ask, knowing it most certainly is not, especially
if Sam agreed to get a plane ticket and fly to California immediately. His mom
would meet him there the following day, so it must be pretty serious. Sam
hasn’t been out to visit his father in long time.

“My dad is in
the hospital with multiple injuries. Mom says he’s in critical condition and
the Doctor’s don’t sound positive.” His voice is steady, but it cuts straight
to my heart.

“Oh, Sam. I’m
so sorry to hear that.” There wasn’t anything else I could say.

The rest of
the car ride remained silent until we reached my apartment.

“Hope you are
feeling better, sorry about everything. I will call you once I get there.” He
reaches for my hand and leans across the seat to kiss my cheek.

I turn my
head and lay my lips sweetly across his. “I’ll be keeping you and your family
in my thoughts. Give your mom a hug for me and just call me when you can.” I
kissed him again. “Bye, Sam.”

“Bye,
Cheyenne.” And with the slightest smile he put the truck in gear as I closed
the door and he was off.

It’s a
horrible situation and I had no clue what to do or say in order to help. I felt
like an idiot for just sitting in silence on the car ride back, but Sam’s mind
seemed to be a million miles away.

Watching him
pull away, I began thinking about the last 24 hours. Sam spent every moment
with me to make sure I was okay and cared so deeply for me. And now in his
moment of need, I wanted nothing more than to take his pain away. I too, cared
deeply for him.

It’s strange
how a certain chain of events can open your eyes to something you can’t believe
you have been ignoring or didn’t see. I wanted to be with Sam Carter, and only
him. My feelings were stronger than they have ever been, and I wanted to be
someone he deserves, someone worthy of his heart.

Over the past
few days I have been in constant contact with Sam, as he’s been keeping me up
to date on his father. From what they have gathered of the situation, it seemed
to have been a drug deal gone horribly bad. His father was nearly beaten to
death, suffering from broken bones and internal bleeding. He is extremely lucky
to be alive.

Mrs. Carter had
to get back to work and flew back home once they determine he was going to pull
through and make a recovery. It would be a slow recovery so Sam decided to stay
a little longer to help his father and possibly encourage him to seek help. His
mom found a few rehabilitation facilities and got the proper paperwork together.

It seems this
may have been rock bottom for Mr. Carter, and he was more than willing to
accept the help and signed all the necessary documents to get started. They
would be transitioning him to the center later next week and then Sam would be
heading home.

 
Sam’s dad had been a drug abuser for most
of his life. Mrs. Carter thought he had made a change when Sam was born, but it
didn’t last long. The late nights and lies were enough to send her packing and
she brought Sam to Redwood to make a better life. Apparently, even losing his
family was not enough to overcome his addiction.

I truly hope
that for Sam’s sake, this really is the bottom and there is only one way to go
from here.
 

The weekend
was here and I was ready to get out of town to spend some time with my dad. We
had dinner plans with my grandparents but then the whole weekend was open for
us to hang out together. I was really looking forward to it.

The drive to
Redwood wasn’t too long, but I was dreading doing it alone and knew the time
would drag on. Four hours was a long time to be stuck in a car with no one to
entertain you. This time, though, I must admit that it is not as bad with my
new fancy car. My Jetta had a busted CD-player that had the same disc stuck
inside since high school. Though, it was fun on occasion, when I felt like
playing throw back jams or when I was trying to cheer up my best friend with
the best love songs of the 90’s. The radio was also kind of busted and only
worked half the time.

This beauty,
on the other hand, not only has a working radio,
but
is
also fully equipped with satellite radio. So many channels to listen to! I
spend most of my time just scanning and stopping on random ones. Surprisingly,
there is some dirty stuff on the radio these days.

The Audi also
has Bluetooth so I am able to jam out to the playlists on my phone. My favorite
thing however, is for sure the hands-free feature to use when I am talking on
the phone. I am probably the most easily distracted driver on the planet, and I
shouldn’t even talk on the phone while behind the wheel, but with my hands
free, I can chat it up all day.

My dad’s
house was located in the only up-scale housing development in the town. Most of
the homes in Redwood were situated on large amounts of acreage, like Sawyer’s family’s
ranch, but of course, is not the way the Thomas families live.

The
development is made up of only eight houses, if you can even call them that. In
my opinion, anything with more than three thousand square feet was considered a
damn mansion. Dad’s was the second largest, not to be out done by my
grandparents. Thomas Building and Construction just happened to be the builders
for the entire neighborhood.

Go figure.

Don’t get me
wrong, I loved my grand parents, we just had a difference of opinion on lots of
things. They weren’t the picture perfect loving and nurturing grandparents that
most children are blessed with. To my grandfather, nothing was more important
than money and how to expand his business to make even more. My grandmother had
more of a softer side, but only when it was just the two of us.

Naturally, my
grandfather made sure to spoil me over the years, the only way he knew how, by
throwing money at me. Maybe that is why it became so hard for me to except such
extravagant gifts, like the car from my dad. Sometimes, I just wanted a hug and
to feel loved no matter what bad decisions I made.

A trust fund was
set up by my grandparents which I gain access to when I turn thirty and pretty
much guarantees that I am set for life. Sawyer is the only person, other than
my family, that has any knowledge about it. Just in my savings account alone, I
had enough money that I could be comfortable without working for quite some
time.

Dad never
understood the need for my job at the bookstore, but the way I saw it, I didn’t
want to be that girl who mooched off her family and never learned to take care
of herself. My schooling and housing were paid for in full by my family and
even that was hard for me to accept. In ways, it just makes me feel like I am under
the constant control of my grandfather.

My mom taught
me from a young age that we didn’t need anyone taking care of us. Just because
we were women, didn’t mean that we couldn’t provide for ourselves or anyone
else. After the divorce, she refused any alimony, and only allowed my dad to
purchase a small two-bedroom house for us. She started working at an accounting
firm in town, and it just so happens, that is where she met Bill.

Pulling up to
my dad’s house, I park my car in front of the garage bay farthest from the
front door. Typically this is where Dad always kept his antique cars, so I knew
I wouldn’t be blocking him in. I left around ten this morning planning my
arrival close to two because he was supposed to leave the office early. I
haven’t heard from him otherwise, so grabbing my bags I walk up the steps and
try the doorknob.

Locked.

Reaching into
my purse, I pull out my extra key rings and locate the gold key to unlock the
door. I push open the solid wood door with my hip and carry my bags inside, dropping
them in the entryway. The house is eerily quiet making me wonder if Dad has
made it home yet.

“Hey Dad, I’m
here.” I call out and wait for a response.

Nothing.

I guess I
will take my stuff to my room and get settled before he gets here. Picking my bags
back up, I tote them up the massive staircase to the second floor where my
bedroom is located at the end of the hall. I have kept very few personal items
here over the years, mainly because I didn’t spend enough time here ever feel
at home. Once Dad re-married to his current wife, I dreaded having to spend
weekends here, which really sucked because I missed my dad so much.

When I open
the bedroom door and walk inside, it appears just as I left it all those months
ago when I was here last. Queen size canopy bed, covered in white linens and
the matching cherry-oak dresser and armoire taking up little space in the huge
room. As I look around, I begin to notice that my pictures are gone. On my
dresser, I always kept an old photo of when I was a baby and my dad was holding
me. The proud look in his eyes always made me smile and was one of my favorite
photos. I also have a copy in my apartment. There were multiple pictures of
Sawyer and I over the years and one with Austin and Sam the night we went
camping and scared the boys. That one was on my nightstand and is also missing.

Now, this
just looks like a regular guest room.

“What the hell?”
I whisper to myself; tossing my bags
on the bed I begin searching for my photos.

My phone
vibrates and beeps from the front pocket of my hoodie, distracting me from my
hunt. Unlocking the screen, I have a few missed texts, the most recent from my
dad.

Dad: Sorry, I got held up.
On my way home now.

Okay. See you when
you get home.

I text back
quickly and scroll through the other messages

Sam: I hope you make to your dad’s safely. Drive carefully!!

Sam: Don’t respond if you are driving. Texting and driving is illegal.
Not to mention you suck at it. :)

Sam: Just text me when you make it, please. I am at the hospital with
Dad.

I can’t help
but laugh at his messages. It’s funny how even though we have been apart basically
since graduation, this last week without him has been torture for me.

Made it safely. How
is it going there?

Sticking my
phone back into my hoodie pocket, I open the dresser drawers, which are
completely empty. I know I left clothes here, too. Maybe I have been relocated,
but it just seems weird.

My phone goes
off again and I pull it out, smiling at the sight of Sam’s name on the screen.

Sam: Getting better. They are hoping to release him soon and get him
transferred over to rehab.

That’s good news!
Does that mean you will be back soon?

Sam: That’s the plan. Once I get him settled I am heading back. Miss
me?

What’s there to
miss?

I send the
text teasing, because I absolutely do miss him.

Sam: Guess I will have to remind you when I get home ;)

I love when
Sam sends me a
winky
-face. I can just imagine him in
front of me winking his green eyes and long lashes.

Maybe you should.
That sounds like a fantastic idea!

Sam: HAHA! I bet it does. I miss you. Doctor walked in. I will call
you tonight.

Miss you too.

I hear the
front door close and toss my phone on the bed before leaving my room and taking
off down the stairs. Hopefully, Dad will want to get food or has something here
to eat cause I am starved.

When I get to
the base of the stairs in the entryway it’s empty. Turning right, I walk down
the hall and into the living room that is also empty. He didn’t go upstairs,
where could he be? Maybe his stomach is where mine his, so I turn towards the
kitchen. Empty also. I open the refrigerator and pull out a bottle of water,
but before I can even get the cap off, her foul voice stops me in my tracks.

“What are you
doing here, in
my
house?” The sound
sends chills down my spine and not in a good way.

The thought
of just ignoring her crosses my mind, but I have played this game before and
know she isn’t going away. Setting the bottle on the counter, to refrain myself
from chucking it at her head, I turn towards the evil witch.

“I am here,
in my
dad’s
house,” I emphasize the
word, “visiting him. What are
you
doing here?”

Positioning
her hands on her hips, Lora glares at me, “I live here. You, on the other hand,
do not. I suggest you take your things and go to your mothers.”