Chapter 23 Sam

M y lips were still tingling from the frenzy of whatever that was by the time I closed the door to my room, my back sliding down the frame until I sat on the ground.

Why did that not feel wrong at all?

I promised him I'd try not to write this off immediately, but my defense mechanisms were not on board with that plan. The ghosts of past wounds warred with the undeniable flutter in my chest in replaying the way his mouth felt on my skin.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, you cannot do this again. Please be smarter than this.

Could I let this feeling ride for twenty-four hours?

I blew out a breath and heaved my ass up off the floor to go through the motions of getting ready for bed.

Hair up, makeup off, and fuzzy socks on, I was ready to keep my promise and just go to sleep. And yet. My deck was staring at me from my nightstand.

Six years ago, I'd refused to read about Jesse because I didn't want to know. Back then, our end was almost a foregone conclusion, and I couldn't face it. Now, the circumstances weren't the same, but the fear of knowing that I was about to have my heart broken... again... was fucking terrifying. I glared at my cards, willing them to stop taunting me, but they won. I didn't want to bury my head in the sand this time.

If there even is a ‘this time.'

I huffed out a breath and shuffled my cards aggressively on the bed, putting up my standard words of protection before I cut the deck.

"Okay," I said aloud, not allowing my voice to sound anything but irritated.

Definitely not afraid .

"I am going to pull ONE card about this, and that's it. So, it better be a good one," I added, though I wasn't sure who I thought I was threatening.

I flipped over one card. Had I been reading on an actual table, I would have flipped that over, too.

"Are you KIDDING me?! You are all assholes." The Hanged Man card stared up at me, and if I didn't love this deck so much, I might have lit it on fire. A Tower, a Seven of Swords... those would have been awful, but at least they were definitive. A Hanged Man was a nothing. A "get out of your own way and figure out your shit" sort of platitude that gave me zero direction at all.

I should have just stuffed them back in the box and forced my eyes to stay shut until morning. But my fingers, almost of their own accord, flipped over one more card.

The Chariot. Another giant middle finger, telling me to be a big girl, make my decision, and do the damn thing.

"Thanks for absolutely fucking nothing," I declared to the room. I felt my guides retreat, more to show me that my anger meant very little than anything else.

The cards now back on the nightstand, I turned off the light, punched my pillow, and hoped I could refrain from making lists in my head about why this was a bad idea, because despite the hurricane of anger and uncertainty that was currently my atmosphere, I wanted to fall asleep thinking about Jesse's arms around me and his lips on my neck.

IT WAS 8:00AM THE NEXT morning, and I was standing at Lauren's front door having already showered, diffused my curls, done my makeup, and picked up coffee and doughnuts because my brain was on the moment I opened my eyes. I was trying not to spiral, but I had to call in reinforcements. During this super productive meltdown, I had texted Laur approximately sixteen times, and she had the audacity not to answer. So now, I stood knocking that cute little bee knocker to wake her ass up.

The door swung open to reveal Lauren in a still half-asleep state, red hair in a barely-there ponytail, Strawberry Shortcake robe askew. "Have you become a victim of a body snatcher? Because that is the only explanation I will accept for why you are standing here."

"Worse. I made out with Jesse last night. But I brought doughnuts. And also, coffee," I pleaded with a manic smile on my face.

"You may enter. But know that I need a minute to become a sentient being again."

I only nodded and followed her into her sunny yellow kitchen to sit and wait while she finished waking up. It was not my first choice to come and talk to Lauren about her brother. However, I had zero other friends in this town. My aunt would only look knowingly at me over her teacup and not tell me anything, and if I didn't talk to someone , I was going to implode.

Lauren padded back into the kitchen slowly, approaching me like I was a skittish animal that might bolt. She was correct.

"I am now awake, and you may proceed. However , you shall mention nothing of even a remotely sexual nature that you did with my brother. You can speak in emotions and vague explanations."

She plopped down across the table from me and grabbed the coffee and a sprinkled doughnut.

"I accept your terms."

She nodded and sipped, and I took a deep breath before I poured out a redacted version of what happened after the bar, Jesse asking me not to write it off before we could talk, and a brief explanation of how ridiculous my tarot reading had been. "So, obviously, I need to know what to do. Lay it on me."

More sipping of the coffee ensued. "Sam..."

"Laur..."

"I don't think you're going to like what I say." She bit her lip and at least had the decency to look apologetic.

"Tell me anyway." I closed my eyes and braced for impact.

"I know you, and I know Jesse. And between you both, I think you might be the more lost. It's a close race, though. Just... I know you've harbored a lot of anger toward him for what happened in high school, and I can't tell you to get over it because I still don't totally know what happened."

"Laur, I just couldn't—"

"I'm not saying you have to tell me right now. But I do know that he was miserable after you left. Hell, he was still miserable after he got back together with Christy. I don't think that whatever happened was intentional on his part, and I hate to say that and have it sound like I'm making excuses for him because he can be so dense. I'm just saying I don't think he set out to hurt you. And while he would kill me for talking about it, he's only just come back to some version of his old self recently—and I think a lot of that has to do with you, and I love that. But he was in a dark place after his injury, Sam. I don't think I can even explain the lack of life in his eyes when he was taken off the Triple-A roster... I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say, but if you're still angry and you don't think you can move past it, then maybe just let this thing with him go because I don't think he can handle the letdown."

That was the longest stretch that Lauren had been serious that I could recall, and she had my full attention. I swallowed, processing what she said and trying to take it with the knowledge that she loved me, and she was trying to be fair. "I am a little lost, huh?"

"We're all a little lost, my friend. You won't be forever, though. You're amazing, and everything will come together."

"And if I can ... move past it." Lauren's brows raised high in surprise. I didn't blame her for her skepticism. My grudge-holding tenacity was not a secret.

"Then I think... I think you could maybe make each other happy. I knew that from the moment you two started sneaking around together that summer and thought you were so secretive. It was obvious then that there was something real there, and I don't think that's changed."

Her expression was gentle, and I really needed that. Hearing the truth about yourself, especially from people who knew and loved you, was a hard pill to swallow, but it did the trick of slowing my thoughts.

I blew out a breath, and the drop in adrenaline after the frenzy of the entire morning hit me at once, my limbs shaky and my body tired. "Thank you for saying what I needed to hear, even if I didn't want to hear it."

"You're welcome. Just try not to make me do it too often. The stress is not good for my skin." She grinned at me in a more recognizable Lauren fashion, and I knew we were going to be okay.

"I'll let you go back to sleep... but do not think you're getting out of discussing Jer . I just have to open the shop, and probably have an uncomfortable conversation, or else I'd force it out of you now."

"You go, Glen Coco," she responded, ignoring that I'd even mentioned Jeremy. I rolled my eyes at her Mean Girls reference but made a note that it should be the feature at our next movie night. I hugged her fiercely and made my way back to my car, determined to put the past behind me today. Before I could effectively do that, however, I had to relive that last conversation we'd had before I left. The one I'd let change everything. It had taken a whole two and a half minutes for me to go from being ready to plead with my mother to let me stay in Emberwood for senior year to vowing never to speak to Jesse again.

"I'm going to miss you, Sam."

He squeezed my hand tightly as we held onto the last part of the night.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

My eyes stung with the tears I wouldn't let fall. I knew it was supposed to be a summer fling, but it just didn't feel like one. It felt like there was finally someone who knew me and liked me for who I was and didn't think I was weird for reading tarot or creepy for practicing witchcraft. It was so easy with Jesse.

"The past month has been exactly what I needed. I don't know how I would have gotten over Christy without you."

That sentence was like a bucket of ice water hitting me square in the face. The smile stayed on my face for another beat while it sank in; the reality of what all of this had meant to him as opposed to what it meant to me, adding up in my mind. I had spent so much time thinking about how much it was going to hurt when I left, and I hadn't even considered that it wouldn't feel that way for him. I stepped away from him, a look of confusion crossing his face.

"Sam... is everything okay? Did I say something wrong?"

"I am so stupid." It came out as a whisper.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"This was a rebound for you. Obviously. Why did I not see that? How did I not see that?"

I was on the verge of losing it, and I so wanted to make it inside before I did. My inner pessimist was doing a little jig in my brain and shouting, "I told you so!"

"No, Sam, that's not what I meant. I meant you were here for me, and I needed that. I wasn't using you; you know that. You have to know that, right?"

"I really, really don't."

"What can I say to make you believe me?" His eyes were searching mine.

"If this isn't a rebound. If it's not just a silly summer fling, then tell me what you picture."

"What do you mean, ‘what do I picture?'"

"When you think about us. What do you picture, see, envision, imagine?"

He swallowed hard. "Like, in a perfect world? Right now? In ten years?"

"In this world. What do you want with us?"

"I don't know, Sam. What do you want with us? I would do—"

"Right. That's so interesting because I could tell you exactly what I want. I think of almost nothing else. So, if you've been able to do this for the past month, and you have given no thought to what you wish the future could look like, then we're absolutely not on the same page. So, ah, I'm going to go inside. Have a great night, school year, whatever."

"Sam. Seriously? I wasn't even sure what you were asking. Don't leave things like that; it's not what I meant. Come on. Of course, I've thought about what I wish things could—"

"Goodnight, Jesse."

I twisted the knob to the front door of the house as he reached out for my hand, but I shook it off, harshly. I shut the door behind me and slipped into the living room, sinking into the pale blue armchair and letting the tears fall freely. Jesse knocked on the door several times before I heard his car start and back down the gravel drive.

Time had dulled the pain I felt that night, and it brought into sharp focus how insecure I'd been. It hurt that I'd let go of something that could have been great because I'd been so anxious waiting for the other shoe to drop that I'd somewhat manufactured it.

But he also ran straight back to Christy , I reminded myself, knowing I wasn't entirely wrong that night. The one thing I did know for sure was that I had to fully let it all go if I was going to be able to move forward with any chance of a happy ending.