8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Rory

The sound of the engine running is the only sound in the vehicle.

Since Samuel picked me up this morning, the only words exchanged were our initial greetings. It's been so long since I've been around people, I don't really know what to talk about. Also, he's not the friendliest, and I don't think he likes to share.

I still don't know where we are going or who we are meeting. I don't even know what part of John is living inside this person.

Will I recognise John in him? The thought makes me uncomfortable.

What if I won't be able to abide by the rules Samuel set for me?

I glance over at him, envisioning his reaction to me breaking the rule. I don't see that going down well.

Why is Samuel helping me?

Yet another question that keeps buzzing inside my head, like the previous one, with no answer.

"Did you bring a change of clothes, like I said?" His voice pulls me away from my unanswered questions, to one that I'm able to answer.

"Yes, I did." I have clothes, underwear, and socks. I also brought my laptop as I have an advert due this week.

But why did I have to bring these things with me? Is he going to tell me more?

Silence settles again, but this time, I need more.

"Why do I need clothes?" I ask. But then I get tangled in all the questions I have that need answers, and I dish them out like a machine, one after the other.

"Where are we going? Are we staying the night? When am I meeting this person? Can I at least have their name?" By the time I'm done, I'm panting, and Samuel is looking at me like I've grown a couple more heads. I'm better now though, as if vomiting all my questions has settled some of the anxiety created by the unknown situation and having to trust someone I don't know at all.

The sound of the tyres going over the line has Samuel looking back at the road. But as soon as he's sure we're not about to have an accident, he sends a dirty look my way.

"Sorry," I say, because even without words, he's right; I should have taken a couple of breaths between questions. And maybe given him the chance to reply before asking the next one.

"We're spending a couple of days there. And before you ask where ‘there' is, I'll tell you." He pauses, probably trying to remember all the questions. I don't interrupt even if I'm eager to know more.

"We're heading to Manchester and staying for a couple of days. We can't just get there and knock at his door. We'll have to watch his movements and try to find the best moment to get close. Her name is Joanna." He takes a long breath, maybe to recover from the long speech—the longest he's ever had with me, anyway.

"For more information, you'll have to wait until we're there. Travel time should be around four hours, but with traffic, it could be longer than that. We should stop somewhere for lunch and coffee at some point."

Wow, he's on a roll, sharing so much information with me. It's like I'm finally part of this. Also, his voice is soothing, and it's helping my too-wired body and mind to relax.

"Have a nap," he says, glancing my way. "You need to be at your best if you don't plan on scaring the man."

He's right. I look like I've been run over, and I don't only mean my clothes. I should have made more of an effort. Maybe, while we wait for the right moment to approach Joanna, I can find something better to wear than the old jeans and tee I've brought with me. I should have gone back upstairs at the double look Samuel sent my way when he picked me up.

I lean back on the seat and close my eyes. I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep, but I want to try, because I want to be closer to my old self when I meet John again. I don't want to keep worrying him about my half-lived life. I want him, wherever he is right now, to be proud of me.

I won't be able to let go until I can ask for forgiveness. If what they say is true, and it's my fault that he died, I'll need to go down on my knees and apologise, tell him how sorry I am to have stolen his life, and how sorry I am he met me.

I shake those thoughts out of my head because they'll only lead to anxiety, and I won't sleep.

I jump at the sound of the radio being turned on, and my body straightens of its own accord. Samuel's hand on my chest pushes me down against the seat, and under his warm touch, I don't fight. I'm not sure if it's because of how tired I am, or because his touch speaks of sunny days, laughter, and the sound of insects buzzing around.

I'm losing my mind. Am I losing it?

I'm lulled to sleep by the movement of the car, the pallid sun shining on me, the sweet music coming from the radio, and Samuel's voice humming as he sings along. Thoughts of my miserable, lonely life are pushed aside, thanks to the imposing presence sitting next to me.

People talking around me wake me up and I sit upright, trying to remember where I am, or why I'm here. Turning my head to the left, I find Samuel, eyes trained on the world around us, radio off, and silence filling the car. It looks like he's waiting for me to wake up.

He seems aware of everything around him, and as soon as I move, his gaze lands on me. He doesn't smile, but his features seem less angular—I'd say softer, but there's nothing soft about him. He's all hard planes of corded muscle, thick veins running along his arms, and big hands.

My breath catches as the thoughts strike like lightning bolts in my brain. Me, him, his hands, and his body. I push away the vision of those hands playing with my body, as if playing a harp. Missing his hand on my chest is like an ache that is always present, but the guilt of wanting someone that's not John eats at my insides, as if acid has been dropped on top.

"Let's eat something," Samuel says, opening the door and walking towards the services. He stops in front of the sliding doors because I'm still in the car, trying to shake away the sleep and those inconvenient thoughts.

I scramble out of the car when he taps his foot on the pavement as if his patience is running thin. I stretch when out of the car, trying to unclench the unused muscles. His eyes following every movement make my body tingle with awareness.

I walk over, pretending to look around, but instead, I can't keep my eyes away from him. I'm not sure why he's having this effect on me right now. We've been together before, and nothing happened. Maybe it's the car, the proximity, or his hand on me.

Why can't I stop thinking about his hands? Of course, my gaze goes there.

"What do you fancy?"

"Just a sandwich and a Coke." Since John passed away, I've not been a big eater. We used to cook together, or I would cook for the two of us. Many dinners were spent on the sofa, so close we were one, watching TV and feeding each other. So in love, we couldn't stay away for an entire day.

Now, I'm alone and looking at someone who's not John with lascivious thoughts. A day like this was bound to happen, but I'd hoped I would have made peace with John's death before looking at someone else. I thought I was safe because, before meeting Samuel, everyone had a blank face. They were like ghosts, an invisible presence floating around me that I could ignore.

Samuel has been different, his presence always a solid entity, taking over and filling spaces in my life—and in me—that were empty for three years.

I sit at a table, waiting for Samuel to come back with the food. I glance around, but my eyes always wander to the man I'm with. He stands above everyone, and he's not even trying.

Once he's back, I dig into my food to avoid getting caught looking. However, I'm not hungry, so I play with it instead of eating.

"You should eat something."

"I'm not that hungry right now. I'll keep it for later." I place everything back into the bag just to have something to do.

"What happened to you?" The question is out of my mouth before I can process what I'm going to say. Samuel's cough fills the silence between us. I pat him on the back, trying to help him recover, and only stop when he moves away so he can pick up his drink.

I didn't want to ask something so personal, but the question is out in the open now. I'm not going to take it back. He knows more about me than I do, I'm sure. Someone who can get that kind of information about donor recipients can sift through my life in a second. And I'm sure he did. No one trusts a stranger—unless they're stupid. Samuel might be a lot of things, but stupidity doesn't come to mind when I look at him.

"I had an accident."

I wait patiently for him to continue, but nothing more comes, instead he goes back to his food.

"Is that it? That's all I get?" I'm not sure why I'm insisting on an answer. I should be grateful for what he's doing, but I'm at a disadvantage and need something from him so I don't feel like a pathetic charity case.

"I'm sure you read the news."

"Yes, like you, I did my research. Still, I would like you to tell me."

He looks at me as if I've grown three heads, then returns to his food again.

"I was kidnapped by a friend's ex-boyfriend and thrown out of a window."

My gasp eclipses the sounds around us. That, I believe, is the moment Samuel realises what he said because his face goes pale, and he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Then my worry takes over and what's most important is for him to be okay.

"Should you be running around like this when you haven't fully recovered?"

"I'm okay," he says, though there's obvious suffering embedded in his tone.

"I'm sorry. I should have noticed that you're still recovering." Shame is a constant companion, but why does it seem even more pronounced right now?

"I'm okay."

I take a mental step back because I don't want to piss him off more. Samuel seems to notice, and he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, as if trying to rein in whatever is pushing to come out.

"I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm well enough to travel, and I'm the one that offered help."

I nod to acknowledge his apology, and smile to let him know that nothing he said offended me.

"I saw the article, but there was nothing about you being kidnapped or thrown out of a window."

"That should have been a secret, but I have a big mouth when you're around." His smile makes the room brighter and warmer, as if a small sun has entered the room. A sun that's only for me.

"Secrets are bound to be shared. You're lucky I don't have anyone to share it with." My heart doesn't fill with the usual sadness; instead, it's filled with excitement at the idea of being someone Samuel can trust.

"Are you done?" The sudden change slaps me in the face and makes me dizzy from the mood swing.

"Yeah, I'm done. "

"You need some sleep, so I want to be on the road before the evening traffic."

My heart expands with long-forgotten emotions, like I'm a balloon filled with hot air. I hide the smirk pulling at my lips from the joy of having someone caring for me.

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day," he says before standing up. He takes the rubbish from the table and walks to the bin, leaving the table cleaner than before. He's a goody-goody with some sprays of bearishness that make him stand out from the crowd even more.

The next part of the trip is long, the traffic heavy and slow, making two hours become four. After exhausting the common pleasantries, and not wanting to get into anything too serious, we spend the rest of the time discussing music while listening to the radio.

I'm ready to settle in when we arrive at the hotel, and I'm glad when we're on our way to our rooms less than five minutes later.

We say goodnight at the door before entering our designated rooms. I'll have some of the food from the services if I'm hungry later, but right now I need a long shower.

I walk into the bathroom, and a sigh of relief and pleasure leaves my mouth when the hot water cascades over me, relaxing my tired muscles.

I'm half asleep when I'm done. I walk out with my towel tied around my waist and lie on the bed.

I wish I could just close my eyes and sleep until this tiredness infusing my bones goes away and I can be human again. Instead, like every night, I talk to John before I try to fall asleep.

Tonight is different from previous nights, because tomorrow I'll have the chance to see a part of John still alive.

"Hi darling," I whisper. "I miss you. Today has been an okay day. I'm in Manchester . . ." I continue with my recalling of the day until John knows as much as me.

My eyes grow heavier and heavier, and for the first time in a long time, I'm ready to fall asleep. With a last word to my lost love, I let Morpheus take me to his world of sand, hoping to have a dreamless night.

"Goodnight, my love. I'll see you tomorrow."

I'm one step closer to finally seeing him, but even the excitement and joy aren't enough to take away the sleepiness.