Chapter Twenty-One

Kate

 

Our house was a one-and-a-half-story home with the master bedroom built over part of the first floor instead of a full two stories. There was a landing outside the master suite upstairs big enough for a chair. It was where Dad removed his shoes before entering the bedroom when Mom still lived here, and where we kids had to sit and wait while Dad came up with our punishments after we misbehaved.

He never wanted to act toward us out of any anger.

I’d dropped the box from the chapel up here so I wouldn’t have to worry about it while all the people came in and out of the downstairs. Once my elders banished me up here, I started opening envelopes—not reading messages, but checking for donations. It was possible to have some want to give directly to us versus the school fundraiser.

Busy work.

After the contents were sorted, I could take the cards to Pete to read—if he was up to it.

Sometime this week.

Some cards held cash, some checks. Nothing over one-hundred, but I was grateful for every penny. It made the days until I had access to Dad’s stuff slightly less terrifying.

Job finished, I left the box on the chair and headed straight to my room downstairs with the money. Tucked it in my purse. Kicked my shoes off.

When I padded out to the kitchen, there was only one person standing there.

“Where is everyone?”

“Gone home. Mom and Scott said they’ll check on you tomorrow.” Sam stirred a pot on my stove. His suit jacket was gone.

I reached the kitchen island. “Your parents left you to walk home in dress shoes?”

“No, I drove. I bought something at college.” He scooped food into two bowls.

Couldn’t see what around his broad shoulders.

My sense of smell had stopped working hours ago from tears clogging my sinuses.

He set the pot on a cold burner, then turned around with the bowls and set them on the island, a fork in each. Mac ‘n’ cheese and hot dogs.

The dam I’d worked so hard today to keep sealed burst.

I ugly cried.

Sam’s strong arms suddenly pulled me into his chest and I clung to him, wrapping around his neck. He rubbed my back, murmuring soothing nonsensical sounds—or at least, words I couldn’t understand in my sobbing state. All I knew, for a moment, was my anchor was back.

A safe place I’d missed for two years.

Slowly, the wracking subsided. I became aware of the wet spot on his shirt and hoped I’d left only tears. He kept rubbing my back and holding me. I breathed in the so-familiar scents of his detergent, cologne, and something warm I only knew as Sam.

Time slowed along with the air moving in and out of my lungs.

His hand stopped moving. He just held me tight.

Perfectly snug.

I lifted my head and leaned my hot cheek into his neck. His cheek, not yet stubbled since he shaved this morning. The quiet of the room and our breathing wove a spell and I realized we were in sync, almost like one being.

Whose face moved first? I don’t know.

Maybe it was simultaneous.

Maybe it was me.

The corner of my mouth reached the corner of his.

Maybe it was definitely me.

In lifting my head, my lips brushed his with a feather’s touch. It should’ve meant nothing. Something to dismiss. But a lightning bolt shot up my spine. A spark in the tinder box.

We ignited.

One second, I was crying on his shoulder. The next, his hands were in my hair as his mouth devoured mine. We kissed like I’d only seen in movies.

Kissed like the moment would be yanked from us any minute.

Kissed like we were afraid this wasn’t real.

Or it was.

I couldn’t get close enough. I’d never felt so alive.

Then he pushed me backward. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Wow, a thoroughly-kissed Sam was a sight. Lips red. Eyes black. Chest heaving.

“I can’t do this.” He moved quickly into the living room, grabbing his jacket.

“Sam. Stop.”

“Goodnight, Kate.” Then he grabbed the doorknob and was out of the house before I could catch up. Even if I hadn’t been stuck in place from hormones making me dizzy.

Get him!

Mentally kicked in the ass, I gave chase only to see him get into a mini-truck across the street. “Sam!”

But he hurried away like hellhounds were on his heels.

Fuck.