ReCAP: A NORMAL Novella (19 page)

"He's been fucking
following you?"
I grit
out.

"
Us
," she corrects. She's right.
Seeing us together could have been what set him off – what made him
attack her rather than just watch her. It could very well be my
fault she had to go through this at all.

"What did he ask you?" I
ask again. Because as I ran into that alley, he went from looming
and threatening, to slamming her into the wall and strangling her
in a millisecond, and it was that one answer,
yes
, that set it off, I know
it.

Rory takes a deep breath,
as if she knows I'm not going to like what she has to say. "He
asked if anyone else has seen his mark. If
you
had... if I
fucked you
even though I belong to
him."

"And you told him
the
truth?
" What
kind of survival instinct is
that?!

"I couldn't bear to deny
it, Sam – to give him the satisfaction. Of thinkin' I'd still only
been with him, that I still
belong
to him. I—
I
couldn't
.
"

I'm transported back to
the girl’s bathroom after her fight with Chelsea, when she told me
her ex would say she still belonged to him. How I reminded her she
said she didn't belong to anyone. But the hesitance in her voice…
she still worries that maybe he might be right.

Well
, fuck that
.

I haul her to my chest, pressing my lips
fiercely to her hair. How can I blame her for wanting to prove
otherwise? For wanting him to know that she'll never be his
again.

"You're
not
his, Ror," I promise her. "And
nothing he can say or do can ever change that. I'm never going to
let him fucking get near you again, I swear to fucking God." I
would die first.

Rory kisses me, and it
rounds up all of the emotion swirling within me, and I deepen the
kiss. Rory reciprocates, climbing on top of me fully. She straddles
my erection, and I wonder if she knows what she's doing or if she's
clueless as to how much restraint it's taking for me not to roll
her over and remind her that she'll never be
his
again.

Pleasure spikes, and I
groan, pulling my mouth from hers. "You're killing me, baby," I
tell her, but instead of backing off, she presses her hand to my
raging arousal.
Motherfucker
.

She gasps, and it sends my
mind retreating, wanting desperately to give in to the desires of
my body instead. "
Fuck
, Ror..."

"
Sam
… I need you. I ain't his.
I'm
yours
. And I
need you to remind of that,
right
now
," she pleads, and I realize I was wrong
about what she needs tonight. She doesn't need gentle comfort; she
needs to know she has the power to choose who she gives herself to.
And that will never be him.

But it
is
me, and I'm humbled and honored
and so fucking turned on. I roll her onto her back and her legs
wrap around my waist. She moans.
Yes
.

"You. Are.
Mine
," I promise her
between kisses. "You hear me, baby girl? And I'm fucking yours. For
as long as you'll have me." And I silently pray that it could be
forever.

****

Still
Your Best Friend

I
twist my wrists against the cold metal of my handcuffs,
trying to take deep breaths and calm my still-boiling rage. These
past two days have had so many ups and downs I'm fucking dizzy, but
one thing is undeniable – it's all my fucking fault.

I don't care that
that motherfucking bastard
accused me of assaulting him. I
did
assault him. Just not as he
says. But I don't give a shit. Nothing's going to happen to me. I
haven't spoken to my father in five years, but he wouldn't let me
get into trouble.

But Rory was worried, and I hate having
worried her. All I wanted was to distract her. To take her down to
the beach, and kiss the life out of her while our friends were out
shopping in South Beach.

But her bastard father had to show up and
ruin everything.

Maybe I shouldn't have hit him. But he put a
hand on Rory. He fucking deserved it.

I picture the horrified
look on her face as I was dragged away in these too-tight
handcuffs, and I wince. How the hell am I going to make
this
right?

Why am I always thinking of ways to make
things right with her? What the fuck is wrong with me?

It isn't that long before
Detective Karanek returns to lecture me on my temper, but I just
wait for him to get to the part where he tells me if I'm going to
be charged or released.

No
charges
, he says, and he unlocks the
handcuffs.

He escorts me back to where Rory waits, now
accompanied by Tucker and Carl. I greet Tuck and give Carl a nod. I
stare at Rory, trying to get a read on her. She must be furious
with me. She may very well be done with me. Her words from
yesterday ricochet through my mind.

Violence is a choice.
You made the right one.

Yeah, well, not this
time.

She only stares back, giving nothing away,
and it's fucking killing me. I want her to yell and scream, to slap
me, to tell me I'm an idiot, so I can apologize and beg her
forgiveness. Again. But she doesn't.

"You good, man?" Tucker asks.

I nod.

"Good, let's get the fuck outta here."

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

We all climb into a taxi, Tucker in the
front and Rory sits between Carl and me. We all sit silently. Rory
twists her fingers nervously in her lap, never looking up from
them. I stare straight ahead, watching her out of the corner of my
eye for any sign of what she's feeling.

Eventually I can't take it any more. I lean
into her ear. "I'm sorry," I whisper. It's all I can think of to
say.

But Rory shakes her head, rejecting it, and
it terrifies me. But then she scoots toward me and cuddles against
me, dropping her head onto my shoulder, and I feel all the tension
leave my body.

She's not mad.

She's incredible.

I slip my arm around her shoulder and pull
her even more to my side. I press my lips to her hair, and breathe
in her spring break scent. Her eyes close, as if savoring our
closeness.

I want to tell her I love her again. I want
to hear her say it back. But I can't do that with our friends in
the car.

When we arrive at the hotel, I lead Rory
upstairs, needing to get her alone. Because even if she's not mad,
I still owe her a serious apology.

Once back in our suite, I grab a bottle of
water and take a big sip, quenching my dry throat.

"Sam…"

I put down my water, and turn to her. I'm a
little put off by the way she shifts nervously from foot to foot. I
don't understand her discomfort.

"We need to talk," she murmurs.

No,
I
need to talk. "I'm so fucking
sorry, Ror. I don't know what came over me. Your dad… I just saw
red—“

"Sam, I don't wanna talk about my father,
okay?" she cuts me off, and it sends a wave of dread through
me.

There's something ominous
about her tone, and it terrifies me. But whatever it is, I will fix
it. I will fix
us
. Because I fucking love her. And I will do anything for
her.

"I can't do this," she chokes out.

"What do you mean?" I ask her carefully.

She takes a deep breath as
if to steady her nerves. She waves between our bodies.
"This.
Us
. I'm
sorry, Sam.
So
sorry, but I— I just cant."

It hits me like a wrecking ball. She's
breaking up with me.

"You're serious?"
That's
my response?! But
what can I do? Bully her into staying with me?

"You said…" She trails
off, and I hate the way she has to gather her courage. "You said if
I couldn't handle it, I could just tell you, and we would go back
to bein' friends," she reminds me, her voice tremulous.

"I… I did say that," I
reluctantly agree.

"Did you mean it?"

I don't want to have meant
it. I want to tell her
no
, we can't go back to being
friends. How could we be friends when I'm fucking in love with her?
When she's my entire fucking world.

"I..."
Fuck
, but I have no choice. "Yeah,
of course I meant it, Ror." My voice cracks on her name, and I hate
that, too. "But I think you're wrong, Ror. You can handle more than
you think, I…” I trail off in defeat, shaking my head in
self-reproach. Who am I to tell her what she can handle? Especially
when my reason for doing so is entirely selfish.

"Look, I'm gonna go back to New York," she
murmurs.

I want to argue. To tell her she shouldn't
let a couple of assholes from her past ruin her spring break. But I
can't even blame her. These past two days have been too much even
for me.

"Okay," I concede. "I'll go with you.

She shakes her head. "No
way, Sam—“

"
Yes
, baby girl. You're not going
alone, and whether you want to
be
with
me or not, I'm still your best friend,
or is that over too?" I don't mean to sound so accusatory. In fact,
I meant to remind her that I'll always be here for her, whatever
she decides she can or can't handle. That nothing has changed for
me. But instead I sound like the dick that I am.

"My mom can fly down," she whispers, but her
lip slides between her teeth, and I wonder what she's hiding.

"That's really not necessary, Ror. If I stay
here I'm just going to worry about you. We can fly out together
tomorrow, it's only a day or so early anyway." As if I could stay
here when she's a thousand miles away.

"Let's just figure it out
tomorrow, okay? I just want to take a shower and go to bed." She
worries her lip between her teeth again, and it makes me think
she's bullshitting me just to get away from me, and it stings more
than anything.

"Okay," I say, because
what else
can
I
say?

But I approach her and
pull her into a hug. I can't
not
.

She sags into my embrace,
and I inhale her scent and try to memorize the feel of her in my
arms, just in case.

"You're not going to sleep
here, are you."

"I… I can't, Sam," she
replies.

I look down at her. I
don't want to release her. I don't want to release her
ever
. "But what about
your dreams?"

God
, she could at least allow me to keep her nightmares away,
but I already know she won't.

"I have to get used to sleepin' alone again
anyway."

"Ror…” I don't know what
I'm going to say. I can't think of the words to fix this. To
convince her that she
can
handle us. That she shouldn't leave me. That this
is all wrong.

But she pulls out of my hold and mutters a
goodbye before walking through the adjoining door to the hotel room
she hasn't slept in once, and closing the door.

****

Epilogue

Sam,

My mom got on a plane as
soon as I finally called her and told her what happened, so I'm
flying back home with her now. I didn't want to wake you to say
bye, especially since you didn't really sleep last night. I just
wanted to say thank you for everything. For convincing me to come
on this trip in the first place, for making sure I had a good time
that first night out, for taking care of me when I got sick. Some
of the best moments of my life were with you on this
trip.

I hate that you think that
you're even remotely to blame for what happened last night. The
only thing you're responsible for is saving me. I won't ever be
able to repay you, Sam. I just hope you know how grateful I am and
how much you mean to me.

I'm sorry for how I
handled things, or for the fact that I
can't
handle things. I'm sorry if I
hurt you. You'll never know how much. You are still one of my best
friends in the world, you've been such a good friend to me, and I
love you for that. Please try not to worry about me, I will be
fine, I always am, right? Just try to enjoy the rest of your trip.
Go to the beach, to the bars, do all the things you should have
been doing this whole time, and I'll just see you when you get
back.

Love,
  

Rory