Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (63 page)

“Hello?”

There’s a slight pause, and then, “Hello? Is this … Josh?”

“Yes, it is,” I say quietly.

“Hi, this is Megan. I just saw the news and I talked to Lucas and heard what happened. I can’t believe this all went down hours ago and neither of them called me!” Her voice sounds slightly frantic and more than a little upset.

“Well, they probably just didn’t want to put Sam through a lot of drama,” I tell her, and I realize that my voice sounds tired. “She’s in pretty bad shape emotionally right now, Megan. I finally got her to sleep a short while ago.”

“Oh, my God. Is she all right, Josh? I mean honestly?”

I sigh heavily. “Physically, she’s fine. He roughed her up a little but, nothing like last time,” I say growing angry again. “But mentally, emotionally … she’s not good. It was very traumatic for her. She just needs a little time to recoup.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s with you,” Megan says, and it takes me by surprise. “I know you’ll take care of her.”

“Of course I will,” I mutter, still not really believing what she just said. I guess Megan is supportive of our relationship after all.

“Please have her call me tomorrow when she feels like talking.”

“Yeah, I will,” I promise. She hangs up then and I stand in the kitchen, smiling to myself. Lucas Colby may not approve but, Megan Colby sure seems to. But knowing how close Samantha is to both of them, I really wish that Lucas was on our side too.

I’m frowning at the thought when Sam’s phone buzzes again and I assume that Megan has another message for Sam or another question for me, so I answer it without looking at the caller ID. Big mistake.

“Hello?”

“Who the hell is this?” The female voice is clipped and condescending. And dripping with suspicion.

“This is Josh,” I say hesitantly, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. “Who is …”

“Josh,” she says with marked disapproval. “So you’re the cop trying to screw your way into my daughter’s trust fund.” She spits the word ‘cop’ at me like it’s something that tastes bad.

Okay. Another faction heard from.
I am momentarily stunned by her words, and I can already tell that she and Samantha are nothing alike. From just one sentence, it’s no mystery to me that they have a strained relationship, and I know instantly that my interactions with this woman won’t be any better.

“Where is my daughter? I want to speak with her
now.
”

“Samantha is sleeping right now,” I tell her.

“Well, wake her up! I want to speak with her and if you don’t put her on the phone this very minute …”

“Your daughter has been through hell today, Mrs. Colby, and she finally calmed down enough to fall asleep,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to stay calm. “I will not wake her up so that you can interrogate her or yell at her. I will, however, have her call you in the morning. Now, if you’d like to ask me how she’s doing, you are more than welcome to do that, and we can talk like civilized people. If not … well you have a good night.”

I hear her gasp softly over the phone and then the line goes dead. So much for making a good first impression on the mother. Shit. I shut off Sam’s phone and go back into the bedroom, tucking it back into the side pocket of her bag. I am just about to climb back into the bed when my own cellphone buzzes.
Are you fucking kidding me?

Grabbing it quickly, I silence it as I head quietly back out to the kitchen and answer it.

“Hello.” My voice sounds as agitated as I feel right now.

“Hi honey, is this a bad time?” She sounds concerned and I sigh.

“Hi Mom. I’m sorry, it’s just … ,” My voice trails off in frustration and I take a deep breath and sigh again. “No. It’s not a bad time. What’s going on?”

“You can’t lie to me, sweetie. I’ve seen the news,” she says quietly. “Are you at home right now?”

“Yeah, I’m home.”

“Have you eaten? ’Cause I’ve made your favorite. When I saw you at that news conference on TV you looked like you could use it so … I took the liberty. Hope you don’t mind.”

I smile at her comment. God, my mom is something else! “Mom, you didn’t have to do that,” I tell her quietly. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Good. Now open your front door, ’cause it’s starting to sprinkle out here,” she says lightly, and I chuckle at her and hang up the phone.

Slipping quickly and silently into the bedroom, I grab my jeans and pull them on as I walk down the hall and over to the door. When I open it up, Mom is standing there with a knowing smile and a big casserole dish. I kiss her on the cheek and take the casserole from her as she walks into the house.

“So, I’m kinda surprised to find you at home, honey. I figured you’d be with Samantha after what she went through today,” Mom says as I set the warm dish on the stove.

“Actually, she’s in the bedroom sleeping so, we need to keep it down,” I say quietly.

“She’s here?” Mom asks with a shocked tone.

“Yeah,” I nod with a confused frown. “Why does that surprise you?”

“Well, I don’t know. I just figured … after what she’s been through … that she would want to, you know … stay where she could be … more comfortable, that’s all.” Mom stammers nervously through her explanation but, I know what she’s getting at. Why would Samantha want to be here in my dinky one-bedroom house when she could be holed up in some plush mansion, or high-rise luxury apartment somewhere.

I sigh, crossing my arms in front of my bare chest as I lean back against the counter and look at her. I shake my head slightly as I say, “Mom, Sam is not like that. She’s not the spoiled, entitled rich girl that you assume she is. I thought you realized that at dinner.”

“Aw, honey, I do realize that, and I am genuinely very fond of her,” she says looking me in the eye. “I like her. And I think she’s good for you. But, sweetie … you can’t just overlook the fact that she comes from a different reality than you do. She expects to live in a certain way. And this … ,” she glances around my place and then, back to me. “This isn’t it, honey. That’s all I’m saying. And I would hate for you to be blindsided when that reality sets in.”

“So, what are you saying?” I ask her, being mindful to keep my voice low so we don’t wake Sam. “That you don’t think our relationship will last? That you think I’m just fooling myself?”

“No! Honey, that is not what I’m saying at all,” she insists in a loud whisper. She fixes me with a mother’s discerning gaze as she places her hand on my arm. “I like Samantha a lot, Josh. I think the two of you are great together. And I do believe this relationship can work. Please don’t go putting words into my mouth like that.”

“Then what are you trying to say, Mom?”

She hesitates for a beat and then she sighs. “I just know you, honey. And I know that you have a lot of mixed up ideas about love, and I understand that’s probably all my fault,” she says softly, looking away for a moment. Her words make me a little nervous and I frown. She and I rarely talk about the old man. “I just … I want you to take it easy on her, okay? And I don’t mean physically, I know that you would never do anything to hurt her. But the thing is … you have a tendency to allow your anger to lead you sometimes.”

She pauses again, and I know that she’s comparing me to Danny Pierce. How could she not? I frown again and look down at the floor, finding it difficult to hold her steady gaze.

“Don’t do that with her,” Mom continues softly. “When she says something or does something that you don’t agree with or that you don’t understand … don’t automatically get angry at the situation. Take a deep breath and try to look at things from her point of view. Try to understand where she’s coming from and remember that she’s grown up differently than you. And that doesn’t mean better than you, or worse than you. It just means different. But different doesn’t equal incompatible, Josh.”

I look at her with a confused frown. Where is she going with all this? “Mom … ”

“It just means that you both have to try and meet in the middle. If you two love each other, then you have to be willing to meet her halfway, honey. Show her that you’re willing to do that and she will meet you halfway too. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

Her voice has taken on an urgent tone, and she’s looking at me like the information she’s relaying is life or death. I’m not exactly sure what to say to her, and her words make me uncomfortable. Do Sam and I love each other?
Do you love her, Pierce?
Does she love me? I push those questions away and focus on Mom for a minute.

“Mom, I’m not sure what you expect me to say exactly,” I begin quietly.

“I don’t expect you to say anything, honey,” she replies. “Just listen to me and take what I’m telling you to heart. Your father was never willing to meet me halfway. He never looked at things from my point of view. Abuse comes in many forms, Josh. Sometimes the emotional kind was worse than the physical,” she whispers. “Just stay mindful of that, okay?”

Slowly, I nod my head at her. “Okay.”

She smiles then, and places her palm on my cheek. “Well, I’m gonna get out of your hair,” she says quietly. “And you look tired, honey. You should probably go join Samantha and get some sleep. I’ll check on you both tomorrow.”

“Thanks for bringing dinner, Mom. I appreciate it,” I tell her as I walk her to the door.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” I kiss her on the cheek and then she’s gone.

Locking the door behind her, I turn and take a couple of steps into the living room and take a deep cleansing breath as I run both hands through my hair. What an emotional rollercoaster of a day this has been. And now, even though I’m bone tired, I am wide awake. But it makes sense, I suppose, since it’s only about half past seven in the evening.

A quick check on Sam tells me that she’s still sleeping soundly. That’s something, at least. I walk back into the kitchen and put Mom’s casserole into the fridge. I could go ahead and eat but, I just don’t feel like it. I’m worried about Sam, and now my head is all clouded with Mom’s words of wisdom. In my mind’s eye, all I see are scenes of the physical turmoil she went through; I never think much about the emotional abuse she must have suffered. And what was that she said about meeting Sam in the middle? If we love each other, I have to be willing to meet Sam halfway and try to see things from her perspective?
If we love each other.
What a thing for her to say. Do we love each other?

I’ve asked myself that question before – is what I’m feeling for Sam love? I don’t know, and I usually try to push that question out of my mind and focus on something else, because I’m afraid of what the answer might be. Now, it’s all I can think about as I absentmindedly walk over to the corner of the room and pick up my acoustic guitar.

Sitting down on the couch, I get comfortable and begin to pick out the notes of an old Percy Sledge song. Maybe I’ll find some answers there, measuring myself against the arbitrary man in the lyrics who can’t keep his mind on anything besides his woman and would trade the world for her in an instant. Certainly sounds like me right now. I’d give everything I own to make Samantha’s world all right again. To make her smile and watch her magical green eyes sparkle at me. Does that mean I love her?

Love. Do I even know what the hell that word is supposed to mean?

I finish the song and start in on another, this time thinking about those amazing bright green eyes and that long mane of chestnut hair. And as I play, the lyrics begin to run over and over again in my mind as I picture Samantha’s beautiful smile and her eyes.
Is she everything you hoped for, Pierce? Everything you need?

Fuck. What has this woman done to me? Maybe I am in love with her. Maybe I’m a fucking idiot who can’t see what’s staring him right in the face. Or maybe I can see it just fine, only I’m just too damn stubborn – or afraid – to admit it.

In the middle of the song, I see movement out of the corner of my eye and I look up to see Samantha slowly crossing the room to me. She’s still wearing only her panties and tank top and her brown hair is flowing over one shoulder. She is so beautiful! I keep playing and she sits quietly beside me, listening to the song, her expression unreadable. I don’t finish. I stop and look at her. “Hi beautiful,” I whisper. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No, you didn’t. I had a scary dream,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I should have been there,” I tell her, feeling like I let her down.

“No, it’s okay,” she smiles slightly. “I was afraid when I woke up but, then I heard the music and I knew it was all right because you were out here.” I smile shyly at her and caress her face with my hand. “That was beautiful, by the way. I love that song.”

“Thanks.” Reaching out, I run a strand of her hair through my fingers and then lean in and lightly kiss her lips. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugs her shoulders at me. “Still tired. But I’m also a little hungry.”

“Yeah?” This news makes me smile because I know she hasn’t eaten much today. Lucas said he couldn’t get her to eat anything, and I know that she barely touched her breakfast because she was nervous about her meeting with her art friend. And that reminds me, I need to ask her about that. But first things first.

“Well, you’re in luck, because my mother was here, and she dropped off my favorite dish.”

“Your mom was here? When?”

“About half an hour ago. She said she just figured we could use a little comfort food right about now.”

“That was really sweet of her,” Sam says with a small smile. “So, what is your favorite dish?”

“Ham and Mac & Cheese,” I say with a broad smile.

“Ham and Mac & Cheese?” Sam repeats with a confused smile of her own, and seeing her smile makes me smile all the more, and I chuckle at her.

“Yes. It’s basically just homemade Mac & Cheese, only Mom cuts up little chunks of ham and adds it in,” I explain, still smiling at her. “I used to ask for it all the time when I was little.”

“Really? Can I try some?”

“Absolutely. I’ll go get us some!” I get up and put the guitar away. Then I head to the kitchen and go about heating up our dinner. As I’m waiting for the microwave to stop, I watch Sam get up and slowly pace around the small living room. Beside the flatscreen TV sitting on an old table, there’s a small digital radio, and Samantha turns it on, immediately bypassing the rock station that it’s normally set at and tuning it to a station playing softer music. I smile as she does, wondering if our tastes in music will ever meet somewhere in the middle. And that thought brings to mind Mom’s earlier advice. I shake my head as I think about it. Maybe I can start by meeting Sam halfway over our choice of radio stations.