Living With Regret (20 page)

September 23, 2013

THINGS AREN’T ALWAYS EASY
when a Clark dates a Shea, but it was never easy when I was just friends with Sam either. We agreed to give this thing between us a shot, and I’m hoping that my parents give him one, too. I’ve lived on this earth for too many years to have to hide something that isn’t wrong. Sam isn’t wrong … he’s just something they don’t like—or understand.

Last night, I saw his vulnerability. I saw the side of him that he doesn’t really let other people see … the one that shows the size of his heart, a window to his beautiful soul. It wasn’t guilt that made me want throw out my misgivings and give us a chance … the burn was in my heart, a small concentrated part of my chest where I only feel him.

I’m scared—scared because this is a whole new arena for me. When Cory and I started dating, I didn’t have a friendship with him. There wasn’t anything to ruin if things didn’t work out between us. With Sam, there’s so much to lose. For many years, he was my only—the only person who I could tell everything to and escape judgment. The only person who really listened to what I had to say and asked me questions to try to dissect my words. He was the only person I felt genuinely cared.

Now, I’m back in that same place … he’s my only.

My phone buzzes on my dresser, forcing me to finally get out of my warm, comfy bed. Pulling my pink cami down to cover my bare stomach, I stumble across the room and grab my phone from the dresser.

“Hello,” I yawn, tucking it under my chin to stretch my arms up in the air.

“Just waking up?” It’s Sam. I should have known since he and Kate are the only ones who ever call me anymore.

“I’ve been up for a while … just been laying in bed thinking.” I smile, brushing my thumb against my lips as memories of last night flood my mind.

“About me, I hope.” The amusement is evident in his voice. I wish he were here so I could kiss the grin off his face.

“Hmm. It could have been you. Things are a little foggy at,” I stop, looking over at my digital alarm clock. “Ten in the morning.”

“I’ll give you a pass since it’s Saturday. Don’t you work today?”

“No, there was only one wedding, and it was out of town so Ms. Peters is going to take care of it.” I offered, but she said everything had to be perfect with this one. High maintenance customer, I guess.

“Sounds like you’re mine today. Get dressed. I’m picking you up in thirty minutes.” He sounds like a little kid who can’t wait to show me some big surprise. Like he’s been waiting for this moment forever. Besides that, he has a newfound hold on me, and I kind of like it.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing so I know what to wear?”

“Jeans, boots, and preferably a jacket. Might get a little cold.”

“We’re not going fishing, are we?” Sam loves fishing. It’s the one thing his dad did with him when he was a kid, besides feeding him and putting a roof over his head. I’ll go, if I’m with him, but it’s not my favorite thing in the world.

“No, I’ve got something better than that.”

“I didn’t know there was anything better, in your eyes.”

There’s a long pause, then he clears his throat. “I can name two things better than fishing.” His voice is not teasing like it was before. He’s nervous; this can’t be good.

“Yeah? You know you have to tell me what they are now.”

“Well, there’s that thing I’m going to show you as soon as your ass gets dressed.”

“And?”

Another pause. This one punctuated by a deep breath. Sam’s not shy when he has something to say. Ever. “You.”

Now it’s my turn to stay silent for longer than is normally acceptable over the phone. It suddenly feels like I jumped on a train that is moving just a little too fast. I want to go where it’s taking me, but I’m hesitant about the ride.

“I’m going to get ready. I’ll be ready in a half hour.”

“Hey,” he says, “That wasn’t meant to scare you. I was just being honest.”

“I know. Slow, right?”

“Snail’s pace,” he whispers.

I close my eyes tightly, inhaling a deep breath to keep my racing heart under control. “I’ll see you in a little bit then.”

“Bye, Rachel.”

As soon as the phone clicks off, I jump into action, pulling a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt from my dresser drawer. The whole time I’m doing it, the way he says my name plays over and over in my head. I love the way he says it, like he’s not just saying it but feeling it, too. I don’t think I really even liked my name until just a couple minutes ago.

I tie my hair up in a ponytail and take a quick shower, letting the hot water warm my goose-bumped skin. The mornings are much cooler now than they were just weeks ago, but not to the point where it makes sense to turn on the furnace. Hot water and a cup of coffee work just as well.

After stepping out of the shower, I dress quickly in order to keep the chill from my skin. I skip most of my morning make-up routine, choosing only to apply moisturizer, lip gloss, and mascara. When I’m done, I throw on my brown leather bomber jacket and a pair of matching brown booties. With one last look in the full-length mirror, I smile at my reflection, feeling more like myself than I have in a long time.

Like most Saturday mornings, Mom is in the kitchen baking. She bakes so much that there’s no way our family of three could ever eat it all, but she brings it to church on Sunday. She says it relaxes her after a long week. I don’t really get what that means since she doesn’t work.

“You were out late last night,” she remarks, grabbing a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.

“I was in before midnight.” I breeze past her, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. When I was in high school, as long as I was with Cory, she didn’t care much about what I was doing or what time I came home. I think she just assumed there was no way I’d ever get in trouble with him. It’s like reading all the ingredients on a package and deciding something’s going to taste good without ever taking a bite. I hate when people make assumptions.

“You just haven’t been out that late in a long time.” She cracks an egg into the steel bowl, but her eyes are on me.

“I’m just trying to live my life. He would want me to be happy.”

Her head tilts as her eyes warm. “I want that for you too.”

We stare at each other, two women with souls that the other really hasn’t taken the time to see. I’ve been too stubborn to put my glasses on, and she’s been too busy running from this meeting to that one. She cares, but she shows it differently than the moms I grew up seeing on TV, or even some of the moms of my old friends. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me … she just has a hard time with the warm and fuzzies. She’s more into show-and-tell.

“I know, but I don’t want you to be disappointed in me. I’m not going to college right now. I’m running deliveries for a flower shop.”

She shakes her head, bracing her hands on the counter as she moves around it to where I stand. “What are you talking about? I’m not disappointed in you.”

“Are you sure?” My chests heaves, my emotions brewing … they’re either going to turn into anger or tears as they slide over the edge.

She grips my shoulders, forcing her eyes on mine. “I’m just glad you’re here, Rachel. I spent days in the hospital wondering if you’d even make it through, and every day I thank God that you’re in this house. Walking. Talking. Trying to get on with your life. The last thing I’m worried about right now is your education or career. You have years ahead of you to think about that stuff.”

The teeter-totter of emotions weighs heavier on the side of a weird feeling of happy sadness. A tear slips from my eye, but it’s because something I perceived for so long has been proven wrong. Sometimes, like now, it’s better to be wrong. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along.

As I wipe the tear from my eye, all I can manage is a nod because opening my eyes would be like taking the lid off an upside down container.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she says, pulling me into a tight embrace. I wonder where this version of my mom has been all my life. There’s no use in asking because we can never get those years back.

“I just didn’t want you to think I was going to live here forever and be content to make flower deliveries.”

She pulls back, quietly laughing. “As much as you don’t get along with your father, you have some of his fire inside of you. I know you’d never be happy doing that for the rest of your life.”

I can’t help but laugh right along with her. Dad’s the shark, but he passed a little bit of his bite on to me.

A loud engine sounds outside, bringing our attention to the window that faces the drive in front of our house. My mouth hangs open … Sam’s long legs are wrapped around a black bike—motorcycle to be exact.

“What on earth is he doing?” Mom asks, her eyes trained to the same spot as mine.

“He’s picking me up.”

“On that?” Never in my life have I had a desire to get on a motorcycle. I’d pretty much tagged them as death traps, especially after a guy I went to high school with crashed one coming around a corner and banged his body up pretty good. God knows I’m not going to be able to resist getting on the back of one with Sam, though. He could tell me there’s an invisible rope from here to the clouds above, and I’d try to climb it.

“I guess so.”

Before I head out to him, I take one last look at Mom who stands with her mouth hanging wide open. “Thank you for this morning … I really needed that.”

I’m not sure if the words even registered with her, but I can’t wait much longer to find out because Sam’s walking up the front steps. As I walk to the front door, a mixture of nerves and excitement consume every part of me. I can’t believe I’m really going to get on one of those things.

In a matter of seconds, I’m standing in front of him. I don’t remember opening the door or even walking across the front porch. This sight of him in jeans that fit snugly in all the right places, a black leather jacket, and black riding boots have me in full zombie mode.

“My name’s Sam.”

I blink, my eyes scanning his body until they land on his. “What?”

He laughs; I kind of want to wipe that sexy, cocky grin off his face, but I like it too much. “You’re looking at me like you have no idea who I am. Thought I’d help you out a little.”

“I thought you were going to pick me up in your car. You know, one of those things with four wheels … I wasn’t expecting this,” I say, circling my finger in the direction where his bike is parked.

“You never asked for specifics.”

I can’t help but examine every inch of it. The seat is narrower than I’d thought it would be, heightening my anxiety. And, it’s not very long … how are we both going to fit? “That doesn’t look safe. Maybe you should go trade it out for your car … I can wait for you to come back.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not happening,” he says lightly, tugging on my ponytail.

I want to beg, but other than the whole is-this-thing-going-to-kill-me argument, I have nothing. My mind is a dictionary of blank pages.

“Besides you,” he says, “this is the one thing that’s better than fishing. We’re going to get on here and just ride with no destination in sight.” His voice is low yet resonant … I swear it could come out of a two-faced monster and still be sexy.

“What if it rains?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking up to the sky. “It’s clear blue with a hundred percent chance of being sunny for the rest of the day. I think we’re good.”

Damn him. He’s so good that he doesn’t leave me any room to argue, and that says a lot because I always have room to argue.

“You ready?” He passes me a helmet, running his fingers through his wind-blown blond hair.

“Where’s yours?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I only have one.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to be on a bike without a helmet?”

“No, if something happens, the helmet’s not going to help much … not on the highway anyway.”

He’s not helping to ease my nerves … at all. “Then why do I have to wear one?”

Grabbing the helmet from my hands, he pulls the straps out and gently places it over my head. His hands stay there a little longer than they probably need to. “Because it makes me feel better.”

I’m really going to do this, I think as I peer through the tinted visor. I’m going to get on this little machine with nothing over my head, going God knows how fast. This can’t really be anyone’s idea of fun … can it?

He climbs on the motorcycle, leaving just enough space on the back for me. “I promise to go five miles under the speed limit since this is your first time. Now hop on.”

Someone must have encased my feet in cement while I’ve been standing here because I can’t move. Fear is a crazy little thing, but the only way to get over it is to face it. My mind wants to, but my body isn’t on the same program yet.

“Lift one leg over the cycle and hold on to me tight.” He smirks like he finds this amusing. I kind of love-hate him right now.

I take one more deep breath and hoist my leg over the top, centering myself on the seat. I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his leather jacket. “Is this too tight?”

“No, you’re good.”

“Then let’s get out of here before I change my mind.”