26. Chapter 26

Chapter twenty-six

T he office was quiet when Sam arrived, the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint tap of keyboards the only sounds in the otherwise still space.

She stood outside Liz’s door, debating whether to knock or turn around and walk away.

The impulse to go there had been sudden, overwhelming, and completely without reason.

But she was there now. And turning back no longer felt like an option.

Sam knocked lightly, pushing the door open without waiting for a response. Liz looked up from her desk, her expression tightening when their eyes met.

“Sam,” Liz said, her tone neutral but clipped. “What are you doing here?”

Sam stepped inside, awkwardly shoving her hands into her jean pockets. “I was in the area,” she said quickly, her voice too forced. “Thought I’d stop by. See how the software’s working out.”

Liz blinked at her, the silence stretching just long enough to feel uncomfortable. “It’s fine,” she said finally, setting a pen down and leaning back in her chair. “No issues.”

“Good,” Sam replied, nodding. She shifted her weight, her gaze flicking around the large office. “That’s good.”

Liz cocked her head, her sharp gaze cutting through the awkward air. “That’s it? You came all the way here just to ask that?”

Sam hesitated, her mouth opening and closing before she shrugged. “Just wanted to check in.”

Liz rolled her eyes, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Right.”

The tension in the room was suffocating, and Sam felt the sudden urge to leave. She turned toward the door. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to—”

“You know,” Liz interrupted, her voice sharp and tight, “you might not believe me, but I really did want to try being friends again when you first showed up here.”

And there it was. The tone she’d had at the wedding. The undercurrent of whatever tension that seemed to simmer between them since that first moment she’d seen her again.

She could’ve left it at that. Gave some noncommital reply, and left.

But she couldn’t. Maybe it was some need to argue against what Liz had said at the wedding. The words she’d kept to herself, still begging to be released.

Sam paused, half turned away. Then she said carefully, “Did you mean what you said at the wedding?”

Liz eyed her, the edges of her mouth twitching. “Is that really so hard for you to believe?”

A flare of frustration ignited in Sam’s chest, heating her tone. “I never did anything to you,” she said through gritted teeth, her jaw flexing as the words came out. “How can you hate me for—”

“I never said I hated you,” Liz said sharply, her brows wrinkling in a look of distaste. As if she wanted to make sure Sam knew she didn’t care enough for hatred.

The dismissive edge in her voice was like a slap, wiping away the last of Sam’s patience. She shook her head, glaring off to the side as if looking anywhere but at Liz might stop her from saying something she’d regret. But it didn’t.

“You and your parents both act like nothing happened back then,” she said, her voice low and biting. “And that’s fine. Pretend it never happened. But you can’t have it both ways. You can’t act like I stole your life somehow and also act like me leaving didn’t mean anything to you.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Sam braced herself for a retort, something to cut just as deep. But Liz didn’t say anything. She stayed seated, anger rolling off her in silent waves, her jaw clenched so tightly it looked carved from stone.

The silence stretched on until Sam realized Liz wasn’t going to say anything at all. And maybe that was for the best.

With a short breath, she turned toward the door, grabbing the handle.

“Wait.”

Sam froze, her grip tightening on the doorknob. Slowly, she glanced back over her shoulder. Liz was standing now, arms crossed defensively over her chest, her gaze locked somewhere on the floor.

Sam hesitated a moment before letting go of the door, her hand falling to her side.

The room fell into a strained quiet again. Liz’s gaze drifted somewhere far away, her expression clouded and unreadable. For a moment, Sam thought that might be the end of it. That Liz had nothing else to say.

But then Liz let out a slow, shaky breath, her arms uncrossing and falling to her sides. She looked down at her hands for a long moment, as if needing to ground herself.

“I know you asked them to stay,” she said softly, her voice quieter now, though still tight with resentment. Her eyes darted to the side, refusing to meet Sam’s. “And I know they said no.”

Sam looked away. Maybe it was out of surprise. Or shame. But either way, she had no words.

And maybe that’s what Liz wanted. To take one last strike at her before they were out of each other’s lives for good.

Liz’s sharp gaze lingered on Sam for a moment longer, the anger in her eyes softening into something quieter, harder to place. Finally, she let out a deep sigh, her focus dropping to her desk. “After you left—when child services came to take you—I was upset. Obviously.” Her voice carried a flatness, like the memory was something she had rehearsed into numbness.

She tilted her head back, shaking it with a hint of exasperation, as though the emotion itself was an inconvenience. “My dad took me out that night. Bought me new cleats to cheer me up.”

Liz inhaled sharply, shutting her eyes for just a millisecond before looking at her again. “When we got home, I went looking for my mom to show her the cleats.” She swallowed, her voice now threaded with something closer to vulnerability. “I found her in the bathroom, crying.”

Sam stilled, her mind coming to a halt.

Liz released another deep breath, and some of that cutting anger seemed to flow away with it. “I think she thought she did a good job hiding it. She never talked about it, at least not to me.” She paused, eyes flicking away once more as she crossed her arms back over her chest. “But sometimes,” she continued, her voice dropping, “I’d see her in her room, looking at a picture of us. The one from our last game together.”

Sam’s chest tightened, the weight of Liz’s words settling heavily in the air between them. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

Liz finally glanced back up at her, and for the first time, her expression wasn’t sharp or dismissive. It was unreadable, layered with emotions that Sam didn’t recognize. And for the first time, she didn’t remind her of the girl she’d known as a child. She looked different. Like the years that passed since their childhood had added new layers to her features.

“I just—” Liz started, her words catching like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue. She exhaled hard through her nose. “It wasn’t nothing. At least, not to her.”

Sam swallowed, her throat too tight to speak.

Liz held her gaze for a moment longer, then her expression softened. It wasn’t a smile, but maybe it was the closest alternative she could muster. And in that look were words that didn’t need to be said. A forgiveness that neither of them was willing to voice aloud.

“Anyway,” Liz said, shaking her head as she regained her regular nonchalant attitude. “I have to finish this so I can make it to pilates on time.”

Sam nodded slowly. She turned, stepping back to the door before pausing. She threw a glance over her shoulder, casting one last look at her old childhood friend. “Bye Liz.”

***

Sleep didn’t come that night.

She’d laid out on the couch, staring at the ceiling for hours.

But by the time the sun had finally begun to rise, her thoughts had finally settled, crystallizing into something clear.

The faint sound of movement in the kitchen pulled her from her thoughts. Tiana’s groggy voice broke the stillness. “God, you wake up way too early.”

Like Sam had expected from the start, Tiana was leaving once again. After the short few months in Seattle, she’d decided to try out Miami instead. And although Tiana said it’d be a short trip, that she’d come back eventually, Sam didn’t entirely believe it. But she didn’t blame her, either. She’d once felt that same urge to leave, too—the want to bounce around, never staying in one place too long.

The friend Tiana had been crashing with since arriving in Seattle had moved into a smaller studio apartment, and when Tiana had asked to stay with her in the short time before she left for Miami, the answer was an easy yes.

She didn’t mind Tiana crashing at her place. In fact, she liked it. The loud company, the effortless banter—it made the apartment feel less empty.And with everything going on, that was something she needed.

Sam sat up, the corners of her lips twitching into a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Tiana shuffled into the living room, a blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape. “Well, whatever new crisis you’re having, don’t involve me ‘til at least ten AM,” she mumbled, flopping onto the armchair across from her.

Sam chuckled softly.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a message.

Caleb: Let me know what you decide.

Sam stared at the message for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. But this time, she didn’t overthink it. She’d already thought through everything all night long.

She typed out a response, hit send, and set the phone down.