15. Fifteen

15

FIFTEEN

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept through the entire night. Sometimes I fell asleep fine and woke up around three in the morning so I could toss and turn until my alarm went off. Other times I couldn’t fall asleep and fell into utter exhaustion around four in the morning. Last night, however, I’d slipped under with no prompting. The sounds of birds chirping outside Sam’s bedroom window told me I’d slept straight through, too.

Fancy that.

I was careful when opening my eyes. The warm feel of a body pressed against mine told me I was wrapped around Sam. Sure enough, when I did manage to make out our sleeping arrangement in her dim room, I found she had curled into the little spoon and I was the big spoon holding her tight.

Geez. Were we cuddling? I never cuddled. In fact, I preferred not waking up with people at all. I was a hot sleeper. Having someone next to me in bed made that all the worse.

And yet here I was. There was zero room between Sam and me, and I was the one holding her.

Crap.

I leaned back far enough to get a glimpse of her face. The room was dim because the sun was only beginning to rise outside. As autumn kicked into high gear, the sun would rise later and later and it would set earlier and earlier. For now, though, I could make out the graceful tilt of Sam’s neck as she lightly snored away.

If you would’ve asked me how I felt about a woman snoring two weeks before, I would’ve said it was something I would never put up with. I needed absolute quiet to sleep. I wouldn’t expect a woman to put up with my snoring either. In fact, I wasn’t opposed to faking snoring to get rid of someone under the right circumstances.

Yet here I was, wrapped around a woman making the sort of noise I associated with death and I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

On a sigh, I closed my eyes and memorized the feel of her body against mine. She was warm, soft in all the right places, and she made little sighing noises between the snores. I wasn’t even remotely a cuddler and yet the idea of having to let this woman go—and I would have to let her go—was almost more than I could bear.

In an effort to drag out our one morning together—once she woke up she would likely kick me out of her room—I lightly traced my finger over her arm and marveled at how smooth her skin was. She smelled like blueberries and vanilla, and she had a small mole on her shoulder that looked like the state of Michigan.

She was beautiful … and serene … and I wanted to keep her. Desperately.

That wasn’t in the cards, though. I was not meant for a long-term relationship and even if I was, I couldn’t give her what she needed. She wanted stability … and happiness … and I could offer neither of those things. I couldn’t wait to get off this show, and she wanted to ride it into the sunset. We were very different people.

And yet look how well you fit together, my inner voice taunted.

It was difficult not to focus on the way her perfectly sculpted bottom fit into my lap, or the way her back melted into my chest. My hand was on her stomach and it fit perfectly over half of her ribcage.

Dammit! Why was I still feeling the spark? This was supposed to put an end to that. We would’ve had an awkward two weeks or so, but the abject agony I’d been feeling whenever in her general vicinity for the past week would’ve been gone. That was the plan.

It clearly wasn’t going to happen, though.

Sam made a murmuring sound and shifted in my arms, my heart skipping ten beats as she rolled to face me. My reaction was automatic. I adjusted the way I was holding her and pressed her front to my front. If possible, that was even worse. Now I could feel her heart beating against mine. They were in the same rhythm.

I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to see reality. This couldn’t last. I would hurt her. As good as she felt, I was going to be happy when this show was over. Heck, I didn’t even have to wait for it to be over. If the first season was a hit, I could leverage that into new movies and leave the vampires in the dust.

Sam looked at this place as a forever home. She hadn’t come right out and said it—she was careful not to make herself look weak in my presence—but it was obvious she was thinking it. She loved everything about Salem. She was proud of this show and would happily spend ten seasons on it so she could get to do what she loved.

That was not me. I didn’t want a home. The last home I’d had—the last place I didn’t think of as temporary—had been taken from me when I tried to protect my mother. I’d lost everything in the process, and I would never forget that feeling. Not ever. I was too damaged to be with Sam.

You’re with her now.

I ruthlessly shoved the voice out of my head and forced my eyes open. I recognized the moment before Sam was going to open her eyes and I found myself staring. I had to see it. I wasn’t disappointed when confusion momentarily took control of her facial features. Here comes the frown. That will be next. She’ll push you away.

Sam didn’t frown, though. She smiled. That was her automatic response to me.

In that moment I wanted to throw away everything I believed, abandon every defense mechanism I had, and bury myself in her for the rest of my life. I didn’t even care if I ever got another acting job. I had enough money to buy a bar in Salem. Sam and I could do our own thing, spend every day and night together. We could be happy and wake up this way every morning.

That wasn’t reality, though. I knew that. As hard as it was to accept, it was reality. I couldn’t keep her. More than that, I couldn’t make her happy. Didn’t Sam deserve to be happy?

What about you? Do you deserve to be happy?

I ignored my inner voice and smiled. I knew exactly how I was going to play things out. “Morning, sleepyhead,” I teased. “That’s quite the hairdo you have there.”

I thought for sure Sam would pull away from me to touch her hair. She was the self-conscious sort. Then I would be able to remind myself that she’d been the one who pulled away. She did the opposite, though.

“Yes, I’ve always been famous for my bedhead,” she agreed. Her voice was thick with sleep and her smile was impish as she leaned close and pressed her nose to my chest.

“What are you doing?” I was beyond confused.

“Trying to commit this to memory.”

“What?”

“This feeling. Your scent. How warm everything is.” When she tilted her head back, her eyes were clear. “I know this is going to sound weird but this is a perfect moment.”

My heart seized. Was she going to take this to a weird place? Was she going to turn psychotic? I could work with it if she was really a closet clinger. I could turn this all around on her and make my escape.

“I know we can’t keep it up,” she continued, causing a different sort of emotion to wedge itself in my chest. Was that regret? It felt a lot like regret. “It’s a really nice moment, though, and I want to enjoy it before … well, before you decide you’re going to be mean again.”

My hand was stroking down her hair before I realized what I was doing. “I’m not going to be mean.”

She laughed—how was that funny?—and I wanted to go back in time until just before she’d woken up. That was my perfect moment. Sure, this one was nice, too. I would never get that feeling back again, though. The one that had filled me with hope for just a few minutes. It was gone.

And why was she laughing about it? I didn’t like that she was seemingly okay with the expiration date that was currently ticking down.

“You can’t help yourself from being mean,” she replied. “I get it. That’s how you protect yourself.”

Her beautiful face was guileless as she propped her chin on my chest and looked up at me. “I don’t expect you to get down on one knee and propose. I can tell you’re worried that I’m going to get clingy.”

I didn’t want her to know that I’d been thinking that exact word only minutes before. “I don’t think that,” I lied. Was it a lie, though? Maybe I was just hoping she would become clingy so I would have a reason to run.

“You do, too.” Her laugh made everything even warmer, and I found myself adjusting my grip on her. Once she pulled away, I would never feel this way again. I was convinced that this was it. This was my happiest moment.

When had I started worrying about happy moments? Good grief.

“I’m not worried about you being clingy,” I insisted. “Knock it off.” She was ruining the moment.

“Whatever.” She ran her finger over my chin. “We should probably talk.”

Dread filled my gut, and I pulled her tight. “Not yet.”

“Still sparking?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “Yeah.”

“Bummer, huh?” Her smile made me think of angels singing.

“It is. I don’t want this moment to end.” It wasn’t as hard to admit as I envisioned. “And yet…” I trailed off.

“And yet,” she agreed. She didn’t pull away, but the emotional distance between us broadened. I hated it. “We should figure this out.”

“What do you mean?” Hope surged in my chest. Did she want to somehow keep this going? I had no idea what the logistics would look like, but I didn’t see why we couldn’t at least consider it.

Maybe we could keep it on the down-low. We could act as if nothing was happening at work but then sneak around at night. We could keep sparking until it died and then part as friends. That didn’t sound impossible.

“I mean that we can’t ruin the show.” Sam struggled to a sitting position, keeping the covers around her breasts and denying me a little thrill. “I’m going to be honest with you.”

I had to drag my gaze to her face.

“I could develop feelings for you.” Her cheeks filled with color as she stared down at the blanket and started plucking at it. “Even though you’re mean, when you’re nice, I feel this … pull. It’s not just the sexual spark.”

I considered the thought that I might be dying. My chest was suddenly so full of—what was that? Hope?—that I thought I might actually explode.

“You don’t want what I want, though,” she continued. Clearly she didn’t understand that I was going through some sort of ordeal because she was calm as she chose her words. “It’s okay, you know. You’re not letting me down. I went into this last night knowing what it was.”

“And what is it?” I was breathless when asking the question.

“We’re attracted to each other.” Her smile was impish when she pointed it at me. “That doesn’t mean we can make it work. You don’t want any of the same things that I want. You don’t even like this show. You would be fine with it being canceled after one season, and I want ten seasons so I can enjoy it.”

I tried to keep my breathing even. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I’m just saying that we’re not compatible, but I’m the sort of person who will fool myself into believing that we’re compatible.” There was resignation in her eyes. “I’m already getting attached to you, and it was one night. If we try to do a temporary thing, I’ll forget and then I’ll be crushed.”

Why did it feel as if I was the one being crushed?

“You’re a good guy, but you’re a guy who is searching for something specific,” she continued. “You don’t want to stay here. Whereas when I look at Salem, I can imagine this being my forever home. I’ve always hated the West Coast.”

To buy myself time, I latched on to that statement. “Why do you hate the West Coast?”

“I just do. It’s more modern I guess, and I like when there’s a sense of history surrounding me. There’s nothing wrong with you if you don’t like those things. They’re just what I like.”

I nodded. “I guess I can see why someone would like those things.”

“I also want children eventually,” she said. “I want a home. I’m pretty sure you don’t want those things. If we keep at this, I’ll be the one with the broken heart because I’ll be the one who can’t stop dreaming.

“Even though you’ve been forthcoming with your desire to not get attached and just explore the spark, I’ll start saying things like ‘what if I could change him’ and ‘what if I could make him love me.’ That’s not fair to you because you’ve been honest. You can’t keep trying to change someone. It doesn’t work.”

I raised my hand and cupped her cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted that.”

“I know.” Her smile was simple. “I’m a little too soft. People have always said that about me.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You’re not too soft. You’re perfect. I’m the one with issues.”

Amusement slid over her features. “You do have a few issues. You’re honest about who you are, though. I appreciate that. I’m just trying to be honest in return.”

I wanted to argue with her, explain that I didn’t know what I wanted because I’d never allowed myself to consider the question. That wasn’t fair to her, though. She was right. As much as I didn’t want this just to be one night—and, man, I was already aching for her again—the odds of her being hurt if we dragged this out were high.

I didn’t know much about myself right now. I’d been floundering for so long I couldn’t even imagine what solid ground looked like. I did know that I couldn’t promise her anything, though. As much as I wanted this feeling to continue, I would be the one hurting her.

And that was something I just couldn’t live with. Hurting her was a bridge too far, and I couldn’t punish her for being honest. I should’ve been grateful that she thought she could develop feelings for me at all. I’d spent the bulk of my life believing I was unlovable, and she was telling me that was wrong. I was lovable. I just couldn’t give her what she needed.

“Come here.” I pulled her close and hugged her, combing my fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry I’m such a jerk.”

“I’m sorry you are, too. It’s okay, though. I think you’re trying not to be a jerk.”

“I always try. I just never succeed.”

“Well, keep trying. Eventually, you will succeed.” When she pulled back, her eyes were glassy. “Someday you’re going to be a really great gift to someone. I hope we’re still friends when it happens because I would like to see it.”

I’d never felt like a gift for anybody. More like a burden. I nodded, though, because she was putting her heart out there and I felt as if I owed her the same. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Last night was great. I’m going to remember it when I’m old and gray.” Her dimple came out to play. “We just can’t keep it up because I’ll fall apart, and if I lose the show and you, then it will truly be over for me.”

I wanted to tell her that wasn’t true, that she was selling herself short. I didn’t because what she said made sense.

I allowed myself to hold her for a few more minutes, then I forced myself out of bed. My clothes were scattered around the room, and I took my time dressing, but only so I could stare at her in the bed.

It took everything I had to open the door so I could exit. When her door fell shut, it echoed in my heart. I took two deep breaths— this is what’s best for both of us —and a single step. Then I realized I wasn’t alone in the hallway.

Jax, already showered and dressed for the day, arched an eyebrow as I extended my keycard toward my room.

“Hey,” I said lamely, doing my best to square my shoulders and act like I wasn’t doing the walk of shame.

“Hey.” Jax’s expression told me he wasn’t buying it. “Late night?”

“I was just out for a walk.” I wanted to smack myself in the face that lie was so lame.

“Really?” Jax’s lips curved. “In the same clothes you were wearing last night?”

“Just … don’t.” Denying it was a waste of time. Instead, I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have to get ready for work.”

“Okay.” Jax made sure to give me a wide berth as he passed. “Have a nice day.”

“I know you’re smirking,” I hissed at his back.

“Actually, I’m thinking about the fact that I owe my fiancée fifty bucks. I’m hoping she’ll take it out in trade.”

I didn’t even want to know what that meant. “You’re kind of a putz.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Sadly, I was a putz. I refused to wallow in it, though. “I’m hitting the shower. If you could keep this to yourself, that would be great.”

“I’ll do my best.”

That was all I could ask for, and I knew it.