19. Nineteen

19

NINETEEN

I was happy.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this happy. Had I ever been this happy? Probably not. In truth, I’d never allowed myself to be this happy. Perhaps, given who my parents were, I didn’t believe I deserved to be happy.

Smiling came naturally to me now, and that was on full display as Sam and I took our tour of the House of the Seven Gables. The photographer wasn’t with us inside. He was just going to “happen” upon us in the gardens. That meant Sam and I could do whatever we wanted on the tour, including holding hands, which we were only too happy to do.

“Look how short these ceilings are,” I said as I raised to touch the ceiling with my free hand. I didn’t have to duck when entering, but the ceiling was close enough to my head that I couldn’t even extend my entire arm.

“Stop that,” Sam hissed, catching me off guard.

“Stop what?” I gave her a puzzled look.

“You’re not supposed to touch anything. That’s what Mary said.”

Mary Birch was our tour guide. She was in her seventies and crabby as hell. The first thing she’d admonished us about when we started our tour was not to touch anything. Personally, I didn’t think she meant the ceiling when she said that. I lowered my hand anyway.

“You were the kid in class that actually did her homework when the teacher left the classroom, weren’t you?”

Sam gave me a “so what” look. “I was a good student.”

“You were a rule follower,” I guessed. “Did you ever get in any trouble as a kid?”

She shrugged. “I happen to think trouble is overrated.”

“And there it is.” I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. “You’re such a good girl.” I poked her side and caught glares from her and Mary. We were the only ones on this tour. Miles thought it would be helpful for us to know the history of the house since we were going to be filming in the gardens for a night shoot the following week.

“I believe that’s exactly what you told me last night,” Sam sniffed. “You weren’t complaining then, though.”

I definitely hadn’t been complaining. We were on our fourth day in our new “relationship” and my complaints had ground to a standstill. That was a new experience for me too.

“If you’re done, we’ll be heading upstairs now,” Mary said pointedly.

“Sorry.” I sent her my most charming grin, which was probably a waste of time. Mary didn’t look as if smiling was in her repertoire.

“Are you claustrophobic?” she asked. “Either of you?”

Sam was instantly on alert. “Why?”

“Because if you’re claustrophobic, you’re not going to want to go up the stairs in this room,” Mary replied. “You’ll want to go up the other set.”

“We’re not claustrophobic,” I replied.

Sam shot me a dirty look. “I could be claustrophobic.”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know.” Sam watched with great interest as Mary opened a small door in what looked to be a chimney. “What in the hell?” She poked her head inside the tiny staircase. “No way.”

“The stairs aren’t original to the house,” Mary droned. “They were added because of the book.”

“I’m not going up there,” Sam hissed in a low voice. She looked panicked. “There are clearly ghosts up there.”

“Move.” I released her hand—the staircase was narrow enough that we couldn’t stand side by side—and gave her a shove. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Oh, sure,” Sam complained. “You’ll let me go first so the ghosts get me and you can make your escape.”

“You figured me out.”

“This is stupid.” Sam groused the whole way up the stairs.

It was a short trip, and the chimney was ridiculously tight. I didn’t consider myself claustrophobic, but I was relieved to reach the attic, which was dark and foreboding. Even that was better than the chimney staircase, though.

Mary continued her spiel once we were upstairs. I could tell Sam was taking it all in. I listened with one ear and tried not to put my hands on Sam now that we had more room to navigate. It was a struggle. It wasn’t that I wanted to touch her just to touch her—no, really—but I wanted to offer comfort. She clearly hated the attic. Ultimately, I put my hand on her hip and pressed myself close enough that I knew she could feel my warmth.

All the while, Mary continued to talk. Me? I just thought about what Sam and I were going to do once we made our escape from this tour.

By the time we hit the gardens, we were both relieved.

“I’m so glad they made a set for the inside of the house,” Sam said as we positioned ourselves in front of the water to get a flattering photo. Our instructions were to never look at the camera, to always be looking at one another. That wasn’t a hardship.

“My understanding is that they wanted to film in the house but were shut down right away,” I replied. The wind was strong so close to the water, and it blew Sam’s hair in her face. My instinct was to tuck it behind her ear, which had me drawing closer. “At least with a set they’ll be able to film during the day. We only have to do the garden stuff at night.”

“Yeah.” Sam leaned over a showy pink bloom and inhaled deeply. “This garden is beautiful.”

“So are you.” The words slipped out before I realized they were coming. They were true, though.

“You’re kind of schmaltzy,” she noted.

I shrugged. “I thought we were being honest.”

“We are.”

“Well, you’re honestly beautiful.”

“Geez.” She shook her head. “I can’t climb you right here, no matter how charming you are.”

I threw my head back. There was that good girl again. She was all about propriety. I couldn’t stop grinning when I looked at her again. “What do you want to do after this? Neither of us have scenes today. I thought we could take advantage of everyone else being busy once this tour is over.”

Suspicion lined Sam’s eyes. “What did you have in mind? I don’t want to spend the whole day in bed if that’s what you’re after. It’s a nice day.”

Honestly, hiding out in bed hadn’t even occurred to me. Sure, I liked spending time with her in bed. I was just as interested in her thoughts and feelings as I was her naked body, however. And wasn’t that a strange development? “Well, there’s a trolley,” I suggested.

Her eyes widened. “You want to ride a trolley?”

I shrugged. “It’s a tour. I thought we could sit together, enjoy the day on a trolley where we can hold hands and nobody will be the wiser. Then I thought we could get a nice dinner and maybe take a walk.”

“You want to take a walk?” Sam was obviously dumbfounded.

“Unless you just want to go back to the hotel and play a different game. I like walking with you.”

Her cheeks turned pink with pleasure. “You are really pulling out all the stops today.”

“It’s rare that we’re going to have a day where neither of us have scenes, Sam. I just want to take advantage of it.”

“Well, I do love a good trolley.”

“I already bought tickets.”

“You did? What if I would’ve said no?”

“You weren’t going to say no.”

“You don’t know that. I could’ve said no.”

All I could do was shake my head. “Sometimes I think you like to be contrary just to be contrary.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s you.”

“Not today.”

The words must have hit home because she nodded. “Fine. You’re right. Let’s go on a trolley ride.”

WE SAT TOWARD THE BACK OF THE TROLLEY. Sam was shorter, so I insisted she take the window seat. That allowed me to serve as a buffer should it be necessary. Sure, Salem wasn’t a hotbed of crime. I wanted her safe beyond all else.

I tuned out the tour guide. I didn’t really care where Hocus Pocus was filmed. I was just happy to be able to hold Sam’s hand in public and relish her warmth. She took it all in, her eyes filling with excitement, and I just floated on the feeling her smile filled me with.

There I was being happy again.

Between tour highlights, I could feel Sam studying my face. She was one of those people who didn’t bother to hide her expression unless she was doing a scene. That’s how I knew she was having deep thoughts.

“Just say it,” I said after about fifteen minutes of her sneaking surreptitious glances.

“Say what?” She was the picture of innocence.

“Whatever it is you’re chewing on over there.”

“How do you know I’m chewing on anything?”

I fixed her with a pointed look. “I know. Just say it.”

“It’s not a statement. It’s a question.”

“Okay.” I waited.

“I’m afraid to ask it,” she admitted. “I don’t want to ruin our day.”

“You can’t ruin our day by asking a question. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer the question, but you can ask whatever you want.”

“Okay.” She licked her lips. “There’s a story out there about you and your parents.”

My heart constricted. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew about the story—it was out there for anybody to find—but it wasn’t something I talked about. Ever.

“Never mind,” she said when I sat in frozen contemplation. “I’m a donkey. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

That snapped me out of my dark thoughts. “You’re not a donkey. That’s me.”

“I can be a donkey if I want to be a donkey.”

That nudged a small smile out of me. “I just don’t talk about it.”

“Okay.” She immediately turned toward the street view. “Don’t you just love these old houses? I would love to live in a historic home one day. I know you have to jump through hoops if you have one, but I think it would be worth it.”

I let my gaze wander over the lean line of her neck and sighed. “It wasn’t the first time.”

She looked troubled when she turned back to me. “What wasn’t?”

“The time in the newspapers. It wasn’t the first time I jumped in to protect my mother. My father liked to drink. He was loose with his hands … with her and me.”

“I’m so sorry.” She sounded breathless. “That’s horrible.”

“It started when I was thirteen. Me trying to protect my mother I mean.” I had to force myself to look away from her so I wouldn’t get lost in her eyes. We’d started this conversation and I was determined to finish it. Maybe I needed it as much as she did. “When he went after my mother, I inserted myself in the fight to protect her.”

“And she let you?” Sam almost looked mad at the prospect.

“Sometimes she was in no position to let me do anything. It was either step in or let him kill her.”

“Oh, geez.” Sam gripped my hand tighter.

“This went on for years. He would go weeks without doing anything. Then he would go on a bender and go after both of us. He would always apologize after, and my mother would believe him.”

Looking back was difficult. I’d managed to emotionally distance myself from those days, but I still woke up in a cold sweat thinking I was back in that house some nights.

“I didn’t know the last time was going to be the last time,” I explained. “I was coming home from a football game. I knew he’d gone on a tear when I walked through the door because the house was trashed.

“I found my mother on the floor in the kitchen,” I continued. “She was unconscious, and bloody, and I just lost it. I went after him. I had every intention of killing him.”

Sam leaned in close. “You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay.” I meant it. For some reason, with her, it was okay. She filled my cracks over and over again, like Jax said Daisy did for him. It felt like my own little miracle. “The neighbors called the police. I had him on the ground and I really was going to kill him. The cops stopped me, though.

“They put me in the patrol car while they were trying to sort things out. I was furious, but they left me in there for almost an hour. Then, when I was calmer, Officer Sturges came to talk to me.”

Now I did smile. “He’s the one who saved me. I kept telling him to talk to my mother, that she would tell him what happened. She had been transported to the hospital by this time and had a different officer with her.

“He looked at me—and I’ve never seen anyone that sad before—and said, ‘son, we talked to your mother, and she says you picked the fight with your father and she got caught in the middle.’”

I had to take a deep breath now. “Up until that moment I thought she would stand up for me. It wasn’t until then that I saw who she really was. She was never going to take my side.”

Sam looked as if she was blinking back tears, and I absently brushed my thumb against her cheek. “Don’t. I can’t take it when you cry.”

“I’m sorry, but that is the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” Her voice was soft.

“It was actually the best thing that ever happened to me.” I meant that. “Officer Sturges made sure I wouldn’t face any charges. He knew what really happened. He also hand-picked the home I went to. He said he wouldn’t let me go back to the house—not that I wanted to—and I was angry at first about being displaced from my home. But do you know what?”

She merely watched me and blinked.

“Things were better right away,” I said. “I didn’t have new parents, but I did have people who cared about getting me through school. My grades went up. I was no longer getting in fights in school. I would occasionally see my parents during shopping trips in my old town, but I pretended I didn’t know them. It was just … better.”

“Do you talk to your parents?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. I haven’t talked to them in years. Once I got my first Hollywood paycheck—a decent one—they called wanting me to loan them money. I couldn’t wait to get out of that town, and they were inviting me back for a visit. I declined of course, but then the next day I went to set in a bad mood, and it didn’t go well.”

“You burned everything down,” she surmised.

“I burned everything down,” I agreed. “That’s when I got my reputation for being difficult—and it’s stuck because I continuously burn things down when they don’t go my way—but things are still better than they were.”

“Your parents don’t deserve you.” She leaned her head against my shoulder, and I felt more cracks being filled. “You shouldn’t ever talk to them again.”

“That’s the plan.” I rested my cheek on her forehead. It felt so right to lean into her. It was as if she was lending me her strength. “That was a bummer of a conversation, huh?” I forced myself to be jovial as I lifted my chin.

“I’m glad you told me.” She was earnest when she met my gaze. “I need you to know something.”

My heart seized for some reason. In that moment—and I couldn’t say why—I thought for certain she was going to say that she wanted this relationship to continue past the point where we’d agreed to it ending.

It was ridiculous—the logistics would be impossible—but I wanted her to say it. When I was with her, I felt as if I could do anything. Including this.

She didn’t say that, though.

“You don’t have to burn everything down because that’s what they taught you,” she said. “You’re better than them. You always were. Don’t let what they tried to do to you drag you down.”

“I come from them.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s what’s inside you that matters, and what’s inside you is beautiful.”

It was the corniest thing she could’ve said and somehow it was also exactly what I needed to hear. “You’re more beautiful.”

“I am quite beautiful inside and out,” she agreed with a cheeky grin. “So are you, though. Stop trying to hide the fact that you’re a good guy. I know you do it to protect yourself—you’re going to make sure that you hurt someone else before they can hurt you—but if you keep doing that you’re going to miss out on all the good stuff in life.”

Like her. If I hadn’t allowed myself to be vulnerable with her, I would’ve missed this. And what a travesty that would’ve been.

“I’ll work on it,” I said finally.

“You should try talking to a therapist.”

I frowned. “I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were crazy. Everybody needs to talk things out, though. That includes you.”

I thought about Alexander and his traveling psychology services. “It’s a thought,” I said. I had no intention of following through, but she wouldn’t let it go. “Maybe one day.”

“Okay.” She patted my arm. “The tour goes for another thirty minutes. Then we can get something to eat.”

“That sounds good to me.” I was happy to talk about something other than my troubled past. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Seafood.”

“You really love your shellfish, don’t you?”

“If I could get you naked with a stuffed lobster, that would be my perfect evening.”

“Really?” Amusement ran through me. “I’ll see what I can arrange. Not for tonight of course, but maybe later in the week.”

“Now I’m excited to see what you come up with.”

“You and me both.”