18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Rory

I glance at Samuel sitting next to me in the car, while I try not to be too open about it.

I still can't believe I had sex with him. I still can't believe I wanted him as much as I did the night I helped him search for John's lung recipient. That was a couple of weeks ago.

I never thought we would end up having sex.

Liar. My brain immediately catches my lie. I can't even deny it because I felt the pull towards him from the moment he said he'd help. And every moment we spend together makes that connection stronger.

Now, though, I'm not so sure it was a good idea sleeping with him, because since then, we've barely talked.

It's my fault, though, because I ran. I left his apartment before he woke up and hid in my apartment for a few days.

Guilt filled me at the thought of having betrayed John's memory and what we had together. Until my brain started working again and I finally realised that having sex with someone else wasn't cheating on John, because he was no longer here with me.

I didn't try reaching out to Samuel, because I was sure he was going to call me, and I would have used that as a chance to apologise to him for leaving without a word. Instead, the call arrived four days later, but just to tell me he had a name and that we were driving somewhere at the weekend to ‘meet' him.

He turned up this morning and the few words we spoke were to say good morning.

"Let's stop for a coffee," Samuel says, and I get a glimpse of the suffering on his face, but it's gone before I can blink.

"Okay." I don't say more, because his attention is back on driving and finding a parking spot near the entrance.

His leg must be affecting him badly if he's showing his ‘weak side' to me after I left him. Especially after what happened between us.

I exit the car and wait for him to do the same, but I only hear grunts and curses before he stops, breathing heavily.

I walk to his side of the car and hold my hand out for him to take. He looks at it for a while and then back at me, but I don't budge, and keep my hand there, challenging him with a stern look. We stay like this for a bit, but he finally takes my hand and I pull him up and towards me. He's heavier than I thought, but I keep pulling until he's on his feet.

I keep him steady when his feet don't hold his weight, and he leans heavily on me. But when he realises what he's doing, he pulls back and busies himself with closing the door and locking the car.

I take a few steps back, but not too far, just in case he needs me.

Instead, when he turns around, he's steady on his feet and walks past me, towards the shops.

I watch him for a second and then follow. I don't miss him swaying when he puts his weight on the injured leg, so I get closer and walk by his side.

"Sit somewhere, and I'll go buy our drinks," I say, with a don't-bother-arguing-with-me tone. It doesn't matter anyway because I join the queue before he can protest. Maybe it's the reason he didn't protest, but I prefer thinking it's because he secretly enjoys me taking care of him.

"Here's your coffee," I say, placing the big cup in front of him.

I sit, and enjoy him looking around for the sugar I'm still holding in my hand.

"Sugar?"

"Oh, do you take it with sugar?" I smirk, trying not to be too obvious, but he looks at me as if he knows what I'm up to. And true to that, he extends his hand, asking without words for the goods I'm hiding.

"Here you are."

He snatches it from my hand and sends me a dirty look, and I laugh.

"Glad one of us is in a good mood," he says, preparing his drink.

"I'm just glad you could find the person." I stay silent for a bit, thinking how easy it's becoming for me to hide the truth. I don't want to be that person, so I take a deep breath, ready to say the things I need to, to put things right between us. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't," he says, to stop me from finishing the sentence.

"You don't even know what I want to say."

"Yes, I do. We made a mistake the other night. And there's no need to say sorry."

The pang of pain in my chest surprises me and leaves me speechless.

Mistake? Was it?

It's what I thought when I left, but only because I thought of John and what we had. But after that, was I still thinking about our night as a mistake? I don't think so.

"Do you really think it was a mistake?"

His head shoots up to look at me, and his perusal of my face is looking for answers, his reply enough for me.

"Mmh, no."

"You don't seem so sure." I poke him because I want a clear answer. If he thinks nothing can come from what we did that night, from our connection, then I need to know. I need to sever the connection now, so I don't end up too involved in something that can only bring pain.

I've had enough pain to last a lifetime. After I say my goodbye to John, I plan to be happy. I want a life worth living, to make John—and myself—proud.

I'd like for Samuel to be part of it. In what capacity, I'm not so sure. I like him, and we have good chemistry, and there is more inside me, but I don't want to acknowledge it, especially not right now.

"We're not in a position to start anything."

"Speak for yourself," I say to him, pissed that he sounds so sure of how I'm thinking. He might be right, but I want to have a say in it.

"I really enjoyed our night together, but I'm not sure I'm ready for more than that."

"Okay. I appreciate your honesty." It hurts, because I thought something was flourishing between us, but we're obviously not on the same page. I try not to let my face show what I'm thinking, and how disappointed I am. I'm not sure I do a good job because one of his hands comes to rest on top of mine.

"I think we both have situations that need to be resolved before we can even think of something serious happening between us."

"Yeah, you're right." So, it's not a no, it's a ‘let's work together.'

"Let's find John first and then we can think about pursuing what's between us."

The smile returns to my face at the thought of an ‘us,' and Sam's desire to see where we're going. I enjoy the weight of his hand on mine, and the sight of him brighter than before.

Now that we're sitting so close together and touching, I can't prevent my brain from replaying what happened that night. How caring he was, and how hard I came. His hands on me, his mouth on me . . . And now my erection is a tent in my pants, and I blush.

"Are you okay?"

I blush even more, and bite my lip when his thumb caresses the back of my hand and then my fingers, one at a time. I really need to leave the table before I embarrass myself by moaning in the middle of this café.

His smirk tells me he knows what he's doing to me, and he likes it as much as I do.

I stand and pull my shirt over my crotch to hide my erection from everyone's view.

"Finish your coffee, while I pop into the loo," I say to Sam.

He nods and relaxes on the chair, extending his leg, and I have a clear vision of the erection tenting his pants before it disappears under his own pulled-out shirt.

I stay in the toilet until my dick behaves and then walk back to find Samuel in the same position. The table is clean, and he's relaxing against the back of the chair. If it wasn't for the aura around him, I could easily think he was sleeping.

As soon as I approach the table, he straightens on the chair, and then pulls himself up onto his feet. The movement is slow and careful, but this time he's able to do it on his own.

"Next time I'll ride you, so you don't injure your hip more," I whisper in his ear, making sure my breath is like a breeze caressing his skin. I enjoy him spinning towards me and stumbling. I reach out to steady him, then place my arm around him.

"Let me help you," I say, for the sake of the other people around us.

"Don't say something like that in public," he bites out after leaning in, as if making sure I'm the only one who can hear him.

"About helping you?" I pretend to misunderstand what he's complaining about.

"Nope, about sex."

The lady passing next to us turns toward him with her mouth open, and I laugh out loud, because Samuel's face is red and apologetic, a sight to behold. I want to kiss him so badly now, so I can taste his discomfort.

"You—"

"Shut your mouth," he says, while elbowing me in the ribs and making me laugh even more.

The rest of the trip passes with no problems, and while we don't talk much, the air between us is not as heavy as it was before.

I close my eyes and pray for this next meeting to go well. To find the person who received John's lungs as caring and happy as the man who received his kidney.

Losing John was a blow, but the more we talk with the people who received his organs, the less his loss weighs on me. Samuel's presence is helping a lot. I'm so glad he offered to help. Maybe John is lending a hand and helping me meet someone as good as him. Someone a bit broken, as I am. Someone doing his best to move forward, to find a reason to put one foot in front of the other. Someone looking for happiness in the most unthinkable places.

When Sam stops the car, I turn towards him.

"Are we here?"

"Yes, we just need to find a parking space, and then we can have a look around."

"I'm not sure where we'll find this guy, so we might have to stay here for a couple of days."

"That's fine. There's not much I need to do at home."

"Don't you work at all?"

"Yes, I do. I'm a graphic designer, so I work when I want."

"Oh, I see. That must be nice."

I nod, and then take the chance to ask some questions as well. "What about you? Are you going back to policing?"

"If I don't get caught breaking the law," he says, and then winks.

"Should we stop? Maybe I can ask your friend to help instead," I say, feeling guilty for having forced him to help and put his job at risk.

"No. I'm okay helping you. And with this leg, there's a good chance I'll never go back to doing what I love."

"I'm sorry." I really am, too, because losing what you love is hard, and reinventing yourself even more so.

"Not your fault," he says. And then, probably to move away from a too-personal and too-painful argument, he says, "Let's take a walk."

I glance around, surprised to find us already parked.

I exit the car quickly, ready to give him a hand again. Instead, he's out before I can even reach him.

"I need to stretch my legs. Staying seated for too long kills me."

We walk around the small town, and I love how well-kept everything is, and how different from the big city. Here, I can hear the birds singing, and the

rush of water running downstream. It's so peaceful and relaxing. Comforting. I believe the village is named Nottage, and it's confirmed by a signpost as soon as we turn the corner.

We walk around for a bit, but when Samuel begins walking slower and slower, I push him inside the first pub we find on the way back to the car.

"I'm starving," I say to him when he looks at me, surprised. I keep a straight face because I don't want him forcing himself when there's no need to.

We spend a couple of hours there, chatting with the landlord, and as the time is getting late, we decide to spend the night here.

I'm glad when the owner says he has two rooms available, and we gladly accept the offer.

I'm glad Sam already decided to stay here tonight and head back to London tomorrow. I know it's only four hours, but it's too much strain on his injured body.

After dinner, we walk to our rooms and I wish he'd kiss me, but he doesn't. I don't have the courage to initiate anything. How could I when I was the one to walk away?

I watch him trudge to his room until he's out of sight, then retire to my room.

I flop onto the bed and close my eyes, thinking about my life and how it's evolving in ways so different from what I thought it would.

And then my thoughts go to the man a few rooms away from me and how life brings people together, even those that weren't destined to meet.

***

"They must be smelling really well," I say to the man who received John's lungs.

"They smell even better now that I can take a full breath."

"What do you mean?" I ask, knowing full well that he couldn't leave his house because even getting out of bed was too much for him.

"I don't want to annoy you with my life story."

"I'd be happy to listen to you. It's been a long time since I've seen someone smelling a flower with such passion."

"I do everything with passion. Life is way too short not to," he says, and I nod because it's true.

"Interesting point. Let me buy you a coffee and then we can talk about it." He looks around and then moves closer, as if ready to share a secret. "I'm not sure if you know, but there's a man who hasn't taken his eyes off you."

I turn around even if I already know who is referring to, and I catch Samuel watching us intently. His gaze moves away as soon as our eyes meet. He's been strange since the day we were at his house, since the day we kissed and did more than that.

I can't forget the zing of electricity passing between us as our lips touched for the first time. Oh God, I still feel it. And while my heart still calls for John, I can't ignore what Samuel makes me feel just by being here with me. I never had this kind of reaction to John. Our love was more like a peaceful river, while whatever is growing between Samuel and me is like a tumultuous sea, with small, but powerful waves. As soon as we're close to one another, the waves become bigger. Sometimes I have to stop myself from touching him, and I don't mean sexually, but to look for or give comfort.

His hands on me, leaving little invisible burns everywhere they touched me, and making me want more of his touch. Samuel making us come . . . I need to stop thinking about it because my face is going to show it, and I don't want to embarrass myself.

Thanks to his friends, I know more about him. They are a good bunch of people. I loved how close they were and how they didn't have any problems about including me. Being part of something has been as amazing as Samuel's touch, or close to it.

I'm pulled out of my reverie by the man who's getting closer to me.

"Are you okay? Shall I call the police?"

I smile at him and shake my head. "He's with me," I say, turning back to him.

I push away thoughts of needing to say goodbye to John before doing anything with anyone else. Seriously, I mean.

"Ah, I see," he says, elbowing me as if implying there's something between us.

I force my face to stay straight, and not blush, because I don't want to give away how affected I am by his presence.

"Yeah, we work together." It's better to maintain a lie than create more of them.

"He can join us if he wants."

I turn around, but Samuel is already shaking his head. I'm surprised. What if I need him close? What if I lose my shit and cry while the man tells me his story?

Samuel seems to read me, because he takes a step forward, and then another, until he's so close I can smell his aftershave. Visions spring to mind at his scent. Us on the sofa after his friends left, his hands and mouth on me, and then cuddling with his body engulfing mine, keeping me close. I can't stop the blush from taking over my face and ears, and I drop my chin on my chest to avoid everyone seeing the mess I am.

"Sure, I'm happy to listen, too. Let me buy the coffee," he says, placing himself between me and the other man. Trying to protect me—again.

I love . . . Oh my God . . . It's not love, it's like. I like him. Yep, like, like, like.

"I'll go buy the coffee," I say, because I need to be away from him right now. I need to find my cool, and stop this nonsense of thinking I'm in love with someone I barely know. Someone who's helping me find pieces of my ex-boyfriend.

I'm walking away before either of them can reply, but Samuel's gaze is still on me, following me, maybe trying to understand what happened just with a look. I'm never going to tell him.

When I'm back with the coffee, they're sitting at a picnic table, facing each other. I wonder if I should sit next to Joseph so I can avoid being too close to Samuel. But it wouldn't look good if I sat next to a stranger instead of the man I just confirmed I was friends with.

I place the cups in front of them and then put down the sugar, milk, and sticks. Only once I was queuing, did I realise I didn't ask what they wanted.

"I've—"

"Thank you," they say at the same time, each reaching out to pick a cup. Samuel, as usual, only adds sugar. Coffee, dark and sweet, a bit like him.

When I come back, I've got my feelings under control, or at least more so than before. If we weren't here, I would have taken the time and walked away from Samuel, until I had my feelings cleared inside myself.

It's not possible for what I'm feeling to be love. It's probably respect, admiration, and like. Yes, that must be it. I can't be in love with Samuel. I shake my head and focus my attention on the other two men.

"Are you okay?" Samuel's voice washes over me like a caress and has me shivering.

"I'm good, thanks." But my voice comes out groggy, probably because I'm still trying to get hold of my emotions.

"This coffee is really good. But what I love the most here is the view and the smells. I'm lucky enough to live in a place where you can still enjoy the scent of nature."

"This place is beautiful," I say, and I get a smiling nod from the man.

"My name is Rory, and this broody man is Samuel."

"My name is Joseph."

"Nice to meet you. How long have you lived here?"

"All my life. Even if my life wasn't as good as it is now." Joseph's facial expression shows pain at the thought of the past.

"I was always a sickly kid, and I couldn't do everything other people my age could do. I couldn't run as fast or as long as they did, and in the end, I was always left behind."

"I'm sorry. It must have been hard as a youngster." There is nothing more I can say.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I had friends and a loving family. But you know when you're young you want to be out, to play and do all those fun things others do. After a while, I started having problems, getting one infection after another that caused damage to my lungs. I ended up needing to be attached to the oxygen tank twenty-four seven. It was gradual, but I had to live like this for four years. Then, two years ago, I received the most precious gift I could have hoped for. A new set of lungs—the miracle I'd been praying for. After the operation, I was able to live a normal life and do things I could no longer do, and even some I never could."

"Wow, what an amazing story," I hear Samuel say, and I'm glad, because I can't talk right now.

He had a miracle, and I had a nightmare.

My throat is clogged by unshed tears brought on by the pain, but also the joy. John is here in front of me, inside this man who couldn't live a normal life, but he's now happy and healthy. My heart breaks at the thought of John and what he could have achieved in his life. What he gave to this person—and I assume his family—doesn't have a price.

"I'm sorry for the person who died for me to be able to live. I'm grateful to his family for deciding to donate their organs, because without them I wouldn't be here today, sharing my story with you."

I take a shaky breath as tears fall from my eyes, and I stand up and walk away. I need a minute. Because right now, I want to shout to the world how proud I am of John, but that would break the rules.

"He went through a loss, and sometimes this kind of talk reminds him of that," I hear Samuel saying to Joseph.

He nods. "It's always hard losing someone we love."

"Yeah," I say, with a trembling voice. "It's the worst pain ever."

"I didn't know the person I received my lungs from, but they must have been a wonderful person."

I bite my lips not to reply to that.

"The selfless people are the best part of society. There should be more like them."

Once again Samuel says something I wish I could articulate without getting all crazy emotional.

Fuck, I'm so proud of John, even if my heart breaks every time I remember that he's not here with me. Doing this, going around the country trying to find any piece of him still here, it's heartbreaking and healing at the same time.

I've realised that I'm slowly moving on and beginning to live again. I look at Samuel, and the feelings I once had for John are now for this man, helping me say goodbye to the man I loved.

I take a few minutes to calm myself down, and to remember John and the love we shared. Once I've wiped my tears away and got a hold of myself, I walk back. We all pretend nothing happened and we resume talking. Joseph, now aware of my situation, doesn't talk about it. Instead, he talks about how his life has changed and all the things he's able to do now.

"Thanks to this donor, I had the chance to see my younger daughter graduate." He smiles proudly. "I was desperate, knowing I was going to die before she achieved her goal. Instead, thanks to the transplant, I was able to support and bring her to that stage of life." He looks happy and radiant.

That brings a fresh wave of tears and a proud smile to my lips.

It's beautiful to see, and so rewarding to witness, what giving organs does for the people lucky enough to receive one. I bask in these feelings instead of the pain of loss, and memories I once tried hard to forget come back to me.

Once he stops talking, I smile at Joseph and thank him for his story. Then I glance at Samuel and, once again, find him already looking at me. I blush like a schoolboy with his first crush, and his eyes widen in surprise. I watch in awe as his nostrils flare, as if seeing me so vulnerable has made him horny.

In my head, I slap myself hard to push away the lusty thoughts. I bring my attention back to Joseph because I don't want my cock to harden even more under Samuel's attention and scrutiny.

"Thank you, guys, for letting me chat away. I rarely talk about my story, but it was good to do it for once."

"Thank you for sharing it with us," I say to him, and I wish I could touch him, just so I could touch John once more.

The man seems to understand because he comes closer, puts a hand in front of me, and pulls me into a side hug.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, and I blink tears away once again.

At his touch, something inside me settles, as if the touch was truly coming from John and not Joseph, as if my body remembers. I hug him back, and before it gets awkward, I take a step back and shake his hand.

"Thank you," I say, hoping the meaning behind my words reaches him and John.

After a few more words and a goodbye, we walk away, towards the pub we are staying in.

My steps are lighter than before, and even my heart feels less broken.

Maybe, by the time I've said goodbye, I'll be whole again.