11. Kenna

11

KENNA

"He's a'right. Just got a hitch in his giddyup." ~ Archie "Witty" Whitlock

"Someone's popular," Sam commented as my phone lit up with yet another text as we made the thirty-minute drive from the hospital back to Wishing Well.

I grabbed it from the console and glanced down at the screen.

I'd made the mistake of mentioning to Delilah that I was going out on a date with Jonah when I got home from the hospital last night. She was dropping off flower arrangements for Sam, and I sort of just blurted it out. All day, she'd been blowing up my phone with questions. What was I going to wear? Where were we going? What time was he coming to pick me up? Do my brothers know? Does Sam know?

"It's Delilah," I explained.

"I still can't believe her and Sawyer." Sam looked out the window.

Sawyer and Delilah were the perfect example of opposites attracting. He was the strong, silent type, and she was bubbly and outgoing. She'd had a crush on him her entire life, and they finally got together a few years ago.

Those were the stories that fueled my delusion, as of late, of someday Sam realizing that he loved me and us riding off into the sunset together. Basically, I'd hoped he would tell me everything he'd said yesterday when he was coming out of sedation but actually mean it.

"It seems like everyone is getting married and having babies," Sam said quietly, sadness tingeing his voice.

I glanced over at him to see if it was the drugs talking or if it was him. He was still looking out the window, so I couldn't check his pupils, which was what they did on Grey's to see how under the influence someone was. I'd never heard him talk about getting married and having babies before. Except when people would ask him when he was going to do it, and he would explain that it would happen when there was an ice storm warning in hell and pigs sprouted wings to fly.

The rest of the ride home was quiet. There was no conversation at all. Sam's head was resting against the back of the seat, and his eyes were closed. I didn't know if he was sleeping or just didn't feel like talking. Either way, was fine with me. I had a lot going on in my head that I didn't want to spill out, so the less I talked, the better.

We pulled up in my driveway, and his eyes opened as he lifted his head. He started to reach for the door handle, but I stopped him.

"Wait," I instructed.

While he sat in the passenger seat, I got out and grabbed his crutches from the back, then went around to his side. When I rounded the corner, I saw he had not heeded my warning. His door was open, and he was trying to step down on his good leg.

"You're going to be a difficult patient, aren't you?" I sighed as I placed the crutches beneath his arms.

He grinned as he looked down at me. "I've never had any complaints."

I knew what he was insinuating.

Everything came back to sex with Sam. Except, typically, he never made any innuendos toward me. Maybe it was the painkillers. Just like yesterday, when he told me he loved me. Not only loved me, but he was in love with me.

Somehow, we managed to get him up the few steps of my porch and in the door. As soon as we walked inside, I had to stop Winnie from jumping up on him. He said hi to her, then glanced over to the couch and asked, "What's all that?"

There were pillows, sheets, and my favorite blanket, all neatly stacked in the corner.

"I'm going to sleep out here," I explained.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Why? We've slept in the same bed more times than I can count."

"Yeah, when we were kids."

The last time we'd shared a bed was the night before he left for boot camp. That night, when I was sure he was asleep, I'd told him that I loved him. Even though I hadn't completely admitted my feelings to myself, something inside of me had to say the words just in case I never saw him again.

"We're adults now," I pointed out. "But that's not the reason."

"What's the reason?"

"You know how much I move around when I'm sleeping. I don't want to hurt you."

I could see he wanted to argue with me. I wasn't sure if his protests had to do with actually wanting to stay in the same bed or if they were just because he enjoyed pushing my buttons because I looked "cute" when I was mad. Either way, he wasn't going to make me budge.

He had always teased me about how much I ‘thrashed' around in bed. I also stole the covers. I heard the same complaints at sleepovers I'd gone to in middle school and high school, and Winnie woke up a lot of mornings shivering at the end of the bed, curled up in a little ball.

"I'll stay on the couch," he stated in a firm and final tone.

"No. Absolutely not. You just had surgery."

"The TV is out here," he argued. "You know I watch TV when I can't sleep."

Crap. He had me there.

"Fine," I conceded. I didn't have a television in my room because I wanted my bedroom to be my sanctuary, a place of peace, somewhere I could go and recharge. No man had ever slept in it, and I had to admit, I was sort of relieved that Sam wasn't going to lay his head there. If he did, every time I closed my eyes, I'd see the memories of him there. I'd smell him on my pillows even after I'd washed them. This was for the best. "But only if you promise to switch with me if you get uncomfortable."

He nodded in agreement. I pulled the bag of medication that he'd been sent home with out of my purse and set the pill bottles on the side table. Next, I checked the instructions and saw he wasn't due for his next dose until bedtime.

Sam hobbled around the love seat and lowered down on the couch, then leaned his crutches on the wall beside him. I followed behind him and pulled the ottoman close to him in case he wanted to elevate his leg.

Not wasting any time to get some good face-time with her favorite person, Winnie scampered up her doggy steps beside the couch and trotted along the cushions to where Sam was reclining in the corner.

"Hello, my pretty Winnie girl. Did you miss me?" he asked as he scratched her behind her ears, then leaned down and kissed her on her head. Her little Corgi butt wiggled back and forth as she snuggled against him.

I didn't blame her. If he kissed me and asked me if I missed him, I'd wiggle, too. Which reminded me.

"I do have a few rules while you're here."

"Always use a coaster, put the toilet seat down, never drink the last Dr. Pepper, or leave only three Oreos in the package and then put it back in the cabinet," he recited my house rules.

I'd trained him well.

"Yes, but there's one more."

"Okay."

"No randos."

"Randos?" he repeated.

"No random women. Molly's fine, or someone I know, but I don't want random hookups in my house."

"You think I'm gonna hook up with people while I'm recovering from ACL surgery?"

Instead of answering, I just stared at him. I wouldn't put it past him. It would actually surprise me if he didn't.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at me. "I haven't had sex in over a year, and I have no plans on breaking my streak under your roof."

I rolled my eyes and started to turn around. I wasn't going to stand there and let him lie to my face. I only made it one step before I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist and pull me back. When I turned back around, the earnest look in his eyes caught me by surprise.

"I'm serious," he insisted.

I wasn't going to argue with him, but I had a hard time believing that was true.

"It's none of my business."

His jaw ticked, and his nostrils flared as if saying it was none of my business had hit a nerve with him. I wasn't sure if it was the pain he was in, or maybe the fact that he was going to be out of commission and he hated sitting still, or what, but something was going on with him. I stared into the chocolate pools of his eyes, peeking into the window of his soul, searching for some clue as to what the cause of his new personality shift could be.

Before I figured it out, he dropped my wrist and picked up the remote control.

"So what's it gonna be? Breakfast Club ? Some Kind of Wonderful ? Pretty in Pink?"

"As much as I'd love nothing more than to have a John Hughes marathon, I can't. I have to get ready."

"I thought you were off tonight." His brow furrowed. "Did you get called in?"

His inquiry caused my stomach to flutter and then sink. I wasn't sure why I was nervous to admit that I had a date. Maybe it was because he was acting so strange. Or maybe it was because I felt guilty about accepting one the day he got discharged.

"Milo is coming over to stay with you. He'll be here in an hour." I turned to leave, but again, he grabbed my wrist and stopped me. This time, his fingers were a little bit tighter, and the pressure of his hold shot a tingling sensation straight between my legs.

"I don't need a babysitter. Where are you going?" he asked.

I licked my lips nervously.

"I have a date."

"A date," he repeated.

I nodded.

"With Jonah?"

I nodded again.

"Tonight?"

"This is his only night off for two weeks that he doesn't have his daughter, and Milo is coming over so you won't be alone," I reiterated.

He stared at me for what felt like an eternity, but was realistically more like a few seconds. Then he dropped my hand and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Cool." Then he turned on the TV and stared at the screen.

"Are you mad?" I asked.

"No, have fun," he said flatly, his attention remained on the television.

What was his deal? I couldn't count the number of times he'd gone out on dates when I'd asked him to hang out over the years. Maybe he just wasn't used to anyone turning him down.

Not knowing what else to say, I went to my room to get ready for my date. As I opened my closet to pick out an outfit, a wave of guilt crashed over me, but I did my best to ignore it. I wasn't doing anything wrong. Milo was coming over to be with him, so he wouldn't be alone. And time was ticking for my deadline. Jonah wasn't available for the next two weeks. I didn't have two weeks to waste before Jonah and I went on a date. Maybe that was selfish of me, but for the first time in my life, I decided it was okay to be a little selfish. I'd put myself last all my life, and what did I have to show for it? I was a thirty-three-year-old virgin, that's what.