24. Chapter 24

Chapter twenty-four

Blue

" B lue!" Mal's voice rings out and finds me huddled in the bottom of my pool.

I ignore it at first, but then realization hits me in waves. Gray's mate is the whole reason Sammy lives here. He is why Sammy came into my life. Mal is Sammy's adopted father. Mal has never sought me out before. So, this has to be about Sammy.

Gently, I shoo the shoal of fish off of my lap so I can swim to the surface. I find Mal waiting for me with his phone in his hand. The sun is beginning its slow descent down the sky. It's getting dark earlier and earlier every day.

"One of my contacts has informed me that Sammy is being a twat."

My heart thumps. Heavy and insistent. I don't think I've felt it beat since the mate bond was broken. It makes sense that Sammy is my heart.

"What's he doing?"

"Filming a porno over in Eastside."

I pull myself out of the water and hurry over to my storage box and start pulling clothes on.

"You want the address?" asks Mal.

I nod.

"You want backup?" he asks.

I turn to him as I pull a pair of sweatpants on. I'd rather wear jeans, but I don't want to waste time drying off .

"How many people will be there?"

He thinks for a moment. "A couple of cameramen. The producer. A lighting guy, a sound guy. Maybe a fluffer. And Sammy's co-stars."

My stomach rolls at the plural in co-stars. My hands keep robotically covering my body with clothes.

"All mundane humans?" I ask.

"Yep," says Mal.

I shake my head. "Then I don't need any help, thank you."

I retrieve my phone from the box and turn it on. There is already a text from Mal with the address. I hate that I need it. I hate that I can't feel where Sammy is as clearly as I can feel where my feet are. He should be a part of me.

I slip my phone into the pocket of my leather jacket, nod a final thanks to Mal and run to the front of the house.

Then I jump into the nearest car. It's the one with the keyless ignition, just a button to push to start. I can't see the keys, but as long as whoever used it last left the keys in here somewhere like they are supposed to, it will all be good. I push down on the brake pedal and press the button. The engine roars to life and I sag in relief.

I back up onto the road and then accelerate far too fast. Racing through the city to save Sammy from himself.

It takes far too long to get to the annoyingly nice building. I want it to be a rundown shit hole in a scary neighborhood, but it's a professional studio in a beautiful converted Victorian warehouse.

Miraculously, there is a parking space. I throw the car in. The whole way here I skirted the edge of driving legally because getting pulled over would eat up more precious time. Now I'm all out of patience.

Sammy needs me and he has waited long enough.

I jump out of the car. Burst into the lobby and fly up the stairs to the studio. The doors nearly break off the hinges as I enter. Everyone jumps and turns to look at me. The room is full, but I only see Sammy looking impossibly tiny on an enormous bed surrounded by three hulking men.

"Stop!" I say.

Everyone freezes. Sammy's wide blue eyes fix on me. The rest of him is utterly motionless. Shit. He is not my mate anymore. He is no longer immune to my voice.

I run forward and scoop him up into my arms. It's awkward as hell because he is practically the same height as me, but he weighs nothing, so I can do it.

As soon as I have him, I turn and hurry back the way I came. Sammy is buck naked, but he will be in the car soon enough.

I place him carefully on the backseat. Then I jump into the front and get us the hell out of here. The traffic is easing, but still frustrating. I want to speed and swerve, even though the urgency has passed. I have Sammy. He is in my back seat. He is safe now. And by the smell of things, I got there before anything happened.

We are halfway home before my command wears off. Sammy springs to life with vibrant passion.

"What the fucking hell, Blue!" he exclaims.

I don't say anything. I just grip the steering wheel tighter and keep driving. We need to be home. Home is safe. Home is where everything makes sense.

"I needed that gig! I'm broke. For fuck's sake, Blue, what the fuck were you thinking? You had no right! Now no one is going to hire me ever again!"

His anger rolls over me. Bitter. Harsh. I hate it. It seeps into my veins, my lungs, my thoughts. It weighs me down. Dark and heavy.

"I know you!" I snap. "You were in my head. You were a part of me. I felt you in my heart and soul. I know damn well that you don't like selling yourself. You don't enjoy it. You don't find it fun!"

Sammy moves on the back seat. My eyes go to the rearview mirror. He is sitting hunched over, knees drawn up, shielding his nakedness. My throat tightens and I snatch my attention back to the road.

"Yeah? Is that right?" he snarls. "So why the hell do I do it then?"

I hear his unspoken, not everyone is a freak like you!, as clear as day.

I take a deep breath, but it doesn't help. My rage is still boiling over.

"Because you think you deserve it!"

Sammy flinches as if I've struck him. An awful silence fills the car. Followed by a weak and breathy, "Fuck you."

A few minutes later. The sounds of Sammy's quiet sobs reach my ears. My heart breaks into a thousand pieces. He is crying. I made Sammy cry. And he is trying to hide it from me.

I am the very worst monster in all the worlds. Even in his anger and shock, he didn't speak his hurtful words to me. It's not his fault I heard them anyway. But I didn't hold back in the slightest. I lashed out. I spoke the truth, and truth hurts most of all.

Wordlessly, I pull into the drive. Finally being home doesn't even feel that great. Everything is still awful. Home has fixed nothing. The anger in the car has festered and turned acrid. It's a sullen, ugly thing and I can't breathe.

"I'll get you some clothes," I say quietly.

Sammy doesn't reply.

I jog up to his room. It's pristine. Everything meticulously in its place. A sob catches at my throat. I've made Sammy feel like he is not enough, that he has to change who he is in order to be welcome here. I've done nothing but wrong to him and I keep doing it.

I grab his robe that is neatly folded on the perfectly made bed. Then I run back to Sammy. I open the back door and hold out my offering to him. He snatches it from me and quickly covers himself.

Silently, I escort him to his room. His head is down. Shoulders slumped. Shame carved into every line of his body.

My eyes water. Oh Amphitrite, what have I done? I've made Sammy feel small. Ashamed of himself. This is a disaster. Why, oh why, am I not capable of thinking before acting when it comes to him? I didn't want him to hurt himself, but all I have succeeded in doing is taking over that role and hurting him myself. I haven't saved him at all. All I have done is inflict pain.

We reach his room. He steps inside. Turns and slams the door in my face. The force of it ricochets through me. I wince. It is no less than I deserve.

My hand reaches out and presses against the wood. If only it was merely this door between us. A simple physical barrier is so easy to fix. Not like this complex, tangled mess of my weaving.

I hear Sammy throw himself onto his bed. I hear him release all the sobs he was desperately trying to hold in. I shudder. He doesn't know I'm still here. He doesn't know I can hear him. I'm invading his privacy. On top of everything else.

Every part of me longs to open this blasted door and go comfort him. But that's ridiculous. I can't comfort him when I'm the very person who has upset him. He doesn't want me.

Slowly, I turn away. Reluctantly, I drag my feet down the hallway. Each step breaks my heart a little more.

I don't know how to fix this.