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Sam’s embarrassment only heightened his frustration. He knew better than to let Sawyer’s teasing get to him, and yet, he let it happen time and time again. Being here at his parents, watching Chuck grow pink and flustered when Sawyer entered the room. It was as if he had reverted to his painful, awkward teen years. All the old insecurities as he watched his little brother grow more confident, more charming. Interested in all the things their father had wanted Sam to be involved in. Puberty had waved a magic wand over Sawyer the instant it hit while Sam sat back, quiet and skinny as his braces cranked his teeth straight.
He was an idiot. Easing down onto the bed, he wrapped both arms around his ribs and tried to find a position that didn’t cause pain to echo through his body.
“Sam?” A light rap sounded on the door.
Sam closed his eyes. Go away, Chuck.
“Sam?” The knob turned. Childhood rooms rarely had doors that locked.
“Hey, I’m... I’m not dressed.” He winced at the lie. “I just want to get some sleep.”
A long pause, so long he thought she had walked away. And then, “Do you need help? You’re supposed to be careful.”
“I’m fine. Jane wrapped them at my appointment today. I won’t put a shirt on.”
The thought of Chuck’s fingers moving over his skin, adjusting wraps, and pulling on clothes sent a surge of heat through him, further scattering his ricocheting thoughts. Why the hell had he mentioned Jane? Sam longed to get up and go to the door. He wanted to pull it open and take Charlotte in his arms, breathe in the sweet scent of her until he drowned in it.
Then her voice came through the thin wood panel. “Oh, okay. Goodnight then.”
Sam was irrationally sure he sensed Charlotte pull away from the door. Then her steps sounded down the hall, and he knew it was true, and even when they faded, the hurt in her voice stayed with Sam until he drifted into a restless sleep.
***
Two missed calls and a text from Jane, four missed calls from Sawyer. Nothing from Charlotte. Sam knew because he ignored the first two and scanned his list twice in case he’d missed something. With a groan, he levered himself up from the bed. He hated sleeping on his back. His spine arched. The skin on his face was tight and itchy from the stitches holding it together as it healed. He felt more irritable than ever.
The phone buzzed again, skittering across the bedside table and making Sam jump. He scowled at it. Sawyer. Again. Sam hit ignore. He was too tired to deal with his brother, especially without caffeine first. Instead, Sam opened the text from Jane.
Hey, Sam. Hope the ribs are feeling all right. Remember to take it easy.
Looking forward to seeing you soon. XOXO.
Sam groaned and put the phone back on the table, face-down, before hobbling to the bathroom.
Dan was at the table, sipping coffee and using one stub-nailed finger to flick through the morning newspaper.
“They’re thinking about redoing the main street,” he commented without looking up.
“What’s wrong with the way it is?” Sam couldn’t stop the grunt that escaped him as he eased himself into a chair. Dan watched him from under lowered brows for a moment, then rose and took his mug to the counter. Without asking, he picked up a clean one from the dish rack, surreptitiously dumped the remains of his own in the sink, and then filled them both.
Dan set the mug in front of Sam and went back to his chair. “Thanks. Where’s Ma?”
“She’s watching Sonny today.”
“She usually watches her here,” Sam said, frowning.
Dan shrugged. “She asked Noah if they could stay over there today.”
“Because of me?” Sam frowned. “They wouldn’t have disturbed me.” Actually, a visit with his young cousin would have been a pleasant distraction.
“Actually,” Dan said, pinning him with a look Sam couldn’t read. “I asked her to go there. I’m staying home today.”
“Oh,” Sam said. “Okay.”
“Only one car in the shop. Your brother doesn’t need me.”
A smartass remark flew to Sam’s lips, but he bit it back. It was rare to have a moment of peace like this with his father. He didn’t wish to ruin it with the knee-jerk reaction to be an ass about his brother.
They drank their coffee in silence for a few minutes. Dan pulled out a section of the paper and passed it to Sam. Together, they spent a quiet twenty minutes. Sam struggled to pay attention to the words crawling over the flimsy grey paper, but his mind kept wandering back to the last time he had been alone with his father.
“Pop.” He pushed the paper away and folded his hands in front of him on the table.
Dan grunted in question, caught his son’s eye over his newspaper section, and then did the same, facing him with brows creased.
“Why were you at the hospital last week?” Sam asked.
Dan’s frown deepened into confusion. “I was visiting Tom at the new place. It isn’t far from the hospital.”
“Oh, yeah, I know. I guess I mean, why did you text me?”
Dan’s frown melted into an outright scowl. “A father can’t meet his son for coffee without reason?”
“No... I mean, of course, it’s just... you’ve never done it before.” There was something off in his tone that sounded too damn close to hurt. Sam cleared his throat, trying to chase away the sensation in his throat that caused it.
“I was already in the area,” Dan said. “I know you go in early Saturday evenings.”
“It’s only, well, in eight years...” Sam trailed off, picked up his coffee cup, then set it back down without drinking from it.
“I never realized it was something you’d want me to do,” Dan interrupted, his tone broaching on irritated. Sam tried to grasp the right words, the ones he wanted. The ones that made sense when he was planning them out in his head. Sam let go of the mug and held his hands up.
“That’s not what I’m getting at,” he said hurriedly. “It’s just... Don’t you think it’s bizarre you were there? On that day, of any day in eight years, it was that day?”
Dan’s look of irritation fell away to be replaced with one of consideration. One salt and pepper brow arched. “Do you think it was some sort of parental intuition or something?” he asked. “I never thought about that.” His tone insinuated that was the last thing he believed happened.
“I dunno, Pop, have you ever felt something like that toward me?” He’d meant it as a joke, but Dan’s brows plummeted back into a scowl.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dan barked.
Sam hitched a shoulder against the rush of sadness pooling in his chest. “Only we’ve never shared much of a connection, you and I,” he said quietly. It was the first time he’d acknowledged that feeling out loud.
Dan sat silent for so long Sam entertained the idea of going back to his room. Sighing, he placed his hands on the table and braced himself for the pain standing would bring.
“I haven’t been easy on you.” Dan’s voice stopped him. It was thick with regret.
Sam paused, then eased back into the chair. “Dad, I didn’t mean— It’s fine. We don’t need to talk about it.”
Dan held up a broad palm, stopping Sam’s words. “No, let me talk. I’ve left many things unsaid for too long with you.”
“You don’t have to—” Sam started again.
“Shut up,” Dan said.
“Yes, sir.”
“See, that’s the difference between you and your brother. He would never have listened. He’d goad and pick at me ’til I cracked. Just like your mother does.” Dan sighed, aging before Sam’s eyes. “Instead, you just leave it be, and we are both so shitty at sharing our feelings that stuff never gets said out loud.”
Sam settled back into his chair, wrapping his hands around his mug, more for comfort than the need for more coffee. Dan didn’t look at him.
“Sawyer, that ass is so much like your mother in so many ways, I always understood how to deal with him. Sasha, well, she’s my little girl, doesn’t matter if she’s grumpy and outspoken.” Dan’s moustache quirked in one corner before pulling back around his lips in a semblance of a smile.
“And you, poor kid, were my first, and I didn’t know what the hell to do with you. Alice and I were so young when you came along. You were quiet and so damned sensitive, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I treated you the way your grandfather treated me. I thought I had to toughen you up. I thought that was my job.” For the first time, Dan met Sam’s eyes. “By the time I understood I was wrong in the way I was handling things, I didn’t know how to make it right. I’d forced you to hide all those emotions away.” He released a long, pent-up breath. “I didn’t do right by you, Sammy,” he said, his voice gruff and soft.
Sam let out a creak of humorless laughter. Words failed him, and his heart had taken up a thumping in his chest. He blinked hard, hoping Dan wouldn’t notice before it occurred to him that was precisely what his father was talking about.
“I don’t know why I was there that day,” Dan went on. “I don’t know if it was fate or just dumb luck, but seeing you there, broken and bleeding—” Dan’s voice cracked, and he cleared it with a wet, tearing sound. His hands, the scarred knuckles popping up like chicken bones, flexed against the tabletop. Sam stared at them, struck by a memory of being young and thinking about just how large those hands were.
Sam sucked in a shaky breath and looked down at his own hands while his father continued.
“That was the scariest, most fucked-up moment of my life. All I could picture was you when you were small, crying because you’d seen the cat get hit on the road.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He had been six and still remembered it clear as day. Dan’s voice forged on. Sam couldn’t bring himself to look across the table.
“I patted you on the head and told you life wasn’t fair, and things happened. To stop crying about it. I never told you, but I went out that night and buried the cat. Washed the blood off the road so you wouldn’t see it when you went to school the next day.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Sam asked. It would have made the pain of that incident less to see that side of his father. To be given a chance to say goodbye to their pet.
“I suppose it scared me. Scared of the emotion. Your mom was crying, and you were crying, and I felt... I felt as though I’d failed you both somehow.”
“There was nothing you could have done. You were right. Life happens.”
“You were six. You needed more.”
“Yes.” There was no point in lying. “I did.”
“Part of me always wondered if that was the moment.” Dan avoided Sam’s eyes. He stared down so hard at the chunk of newspaper that Sam wouldn’t have been shocked to see it burst into flame. “I wondered if that was the pivotal moment where I fucked everything up between us.”
“Dad—” Sam started. He made a move to reach for his father’s hand, hesitated, then withdrew. Why couldn’t he bridge that gap? Damn it. Dan went on as if he hadn’t noticed Sam’s dilemma.
“When I walked into that waiting room, and there you were, my son, your blood all over the floor, I thought my heart would stop in my chest. I didn’t even realize I’d moved, and I had this guy’s throat in my hands.” Dan scrubbed a palm over his face. Sam heard the rasp of whiskers against the rough skin and, in a moment of clarity, saw the moment for what it was. A confession. A cleansing that had been a lifetime in coming. And it was as much for Dan as it was for him. He held his silence.
“I would have killed him, Sam.” Dan looked up, straight into Sam’s eyes. “I wanted to kill him. Then I noticed the little blond kid sitting there, staring up at us with tears streaming down his grubby little face, and it could have been you. That day the cat died. I had to do better than I’d done for you. Had to give that kid something to hold on to instead of crushing him further.”
“Dad—” Sam’s voice broke, and he pushed both hands into his face, relishing the pain of pulling stitches as he struggled to keep himself in check. “I never doubted you... you loved me, if that’s what you think.” His breathing hitched and sent a shock of pain through his ribs.
Dan shook his head. “It shouldn’t have taken me thirty-three years to talk to you like this, Samuel.”
Sam barked out a shaky laugh. “Pop, I’m thirty-four.”
“Well, shit!” Dan threw his hands up. “See what I mean?” A chuckle rumbled in his chest. Shaking his head, he rose and came around the table, squeezing Sam’s shoulders before picking up both their coffee mugs.
“I’ve got more to talk to you about.” He dumped the cold dredges into the sink and filled both, adding cream to Sam’s. “I hope you’ll keep everything else I’ve just said in mind before you bite my head off.” Plunking the steaming mugs down, he took his seat.
“Damn, this sounds ominous.” Sam wiped his eyes against his sleeve and squinted at his father.
“You’ll be all right.” The well-loved chair groaned as Dan settled his weight. “We need to talk about Charlotte,” he said, with no more preamble.
Sam’s stomach knotted. “Why?”
“Because I’m sick of being patient when it comes to you two. You’re both idiots.”
“I’m so relieved we’ve gotten past the whole loving-father thing. Phew.” Sam dashed a hand across his brow. Dan rewarded him with a familiar scowl.
“That girl is in love with you, and you’ve been mooning over her for half your life.” Dan released a soul-deep sigh of frustration. “So, what’s your excuse this time?”
“I really don’t feel like it’s your business.” Sam crossed his arms—carefully—across his chest.
“Hmm.” Dan tapped a finger against his chin. “My son and the girl I’ve treated like one of my own children since she was a toddler. No, not my business at all.”
“Chuck doesn’t have feelings for me. Your love radar is off.”
The look on Dan’s face reiterated the fact he believed his son was simple-minded.
“She had a crush on Sawyer,” Sam spat the words out like an unpleasant taste. “And we talked about us and decided it wouldn’t work. We are too different.”
“Had and crush. You didn’t see Chuck in that emergency room. How she sat at your bedside. Sawyer may as well have been a cricket for all the attention she paid him.”
“If he were a cricket, she would have paid him quite a lot of attention, actually,” Sam grumbled. “Chuck hates bugs.”
“Samuel.” Dan slammed a palm onto the table. “You also didn’t see her give your brother shit last night for upsetting you. She turned that Latino temper right on him.”
Sam paused, “Really?”
“Yes!” Dan smacked his open palm against the table. Sam’s full mug sloshed a tide of coffee over the rim. “I’m getting tired of waiting. Do you think I’m going to last forever? Isn’t what happened to Tom evidence that you two need to suck it up and give us some grandbabies?”
Sam’s head swum. Charlotte. If he gave her the power, she could crush his heart. They’d tried. It hadn’t worked. They had tried... hadn’t they? There had been so much turmoil in the time since he and Charlotte had woken up in his bed. “I don’t know—”
“Bullshit. You know. I know. Your mom knows. Carmen knows. Your siblings know. Take your pride and stick it up your ass. That girl is meant to be my daughter-in-law. Always has been. You want to talk about people being too different from each other? What about your mother and I? Do we strike you as the ‘same’ person?”
Sam had no argument for that. Dan and Alice Stevenson were as opposite as night and day, but the fact that they loved each other was evident, sometimes disgustingly so. “What about Jane?” he asked.
Dan flapped a dismissive hand. “Nice girl. She’s young. She should concentrate on her career for a while.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Sam whispered.
“What if I’m right?” Dan countered. “If it’s real, then it’s worth taking the chance.”
Like them, his parents. They had risked a lot to nourish their love. Hurt family and friends. Those wounds had healed, and they’d lived a life full of love for thirty-five years and counting.
“Is it normal to be this fucking terrified?” Sam cushioned the words with a wry laugh, but he knew his vulnerability shone through like a beacon despite the effort.
His father nodded, sympathy flashing in his blue eyes.
Sam reached out to the discarded section of the paper and tapped an ad with his finger. “I think I may have an idea. But I’m going to need everybody’s help.”
“Thank God,” Dan said.