by Amiee Louise
“Listen to me, that wasn’t Sam back there, he is not himself right now. You need to understand that he has some … Erm … Issues. He gets like this every now and then.”
A tear slides down my cheek, and he rubs it away with the pad of his calloused thumb. I finish my drink and put the glass down on the floor.
“Hey, none of this your fault, babe, you have to trust me on that one.”
I look at him, and the tears don’t stop falling for my gorgeous, handsome, fucked up, rock star, boyfriend. Jax gets up from the floor, sits down next to me, and pulls me into his arms. He strokes my back reassuringly.
“Shhh, everything’s going to be all right, I promise.”
I pull away from him, but he keeps me tucked safely in his arms.
“What’s wrong with him, Jax? Why was he acting like that? Please don’t fucking lie to me. I need you to start telling me the truth, I can handle it.”
I sniff, and Jax closes his eyes for a second. He opens his eyes, and his wide hazel eyes lock with mine; he takes my hands in his.
“Sam’s ill. He has been for years. Day to day he is usually OK, he manages it, he takes his meds like second nature, and he is totally fine. Since he met you, he decided he didn’t need his medication anymore, and he has been off it for a few months. He is—fuck he is going to kill me for telling you this, but I can see it’s getting serious between you two and you have a right to know. I have been on at him for a while to tell you the truth, but he was terrified you would run from him again. Sam has severe manic depression. We thought he was handling it until you had the car accident, then he started behaving oddly, being stupidly possessive and very aggressive. We noticed he wasn’t sleeping, working out excessively, self-medicating with the drugs, not eating properly, and burning himself out. Cole knows how to handle him in these types of situations; the guy is a total fucking legend. He has been around at some of Sam’s lowest points, and he is the only one who he listens to for some reason. If anyone can get through to him, it’s Cole. You need to let him work his magic, and he will be back to being regular Sam in no time at all, I promise you, babe.”
I am struggling to take all this new information in. Sam has severe manic depression? It certainly explains a lot of things, his need to protect me after the accident, the fights and his drug taking. How the fuck did I miss the signs?
“He thinks you’re more of a tonic for him than his medication. I begged him to carry on taking it, but you know Sam well enough by now to know that he is extremely fucking stubborn and ridiculously pig-headed.”
Jax shakes his head, and he looks as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He runs his fingers through his unruly, dirty-blonde hair and lets out a sigh. I sit wondering how this day could possibly get any worse and wish it would end sooner rather than later.
I yawn, suddenly feeling exhausted from the day’s events. I look at the clock, and it reads twelve midnight.
“You should get some sleep, love, you look exhausted.”
I smile, knowing that Jax is right. I take off Sam’s hoodie and get into bed wearing my yoga trousers and a black vest. Soon, I drift off into a deep sleep.
I’m not sure how long I have been asleep, but I wake to a darkened room and Jax is sleeping fully clothed on top of the duvet with his arm thrown over his eyes a few inches away from me. I lie awake for a few minutes thinking about Sam, and I feel the overwhelming urge to go to him; I need to know that he is OK. I pull the covers back quietly and pull on Sam’s hoodie. I pull on my UGG boots and tip-toe out of the room, shutting the door silently behind me. I walk the ten yards to what was mine and Sam’s room.
I hear a loud crash, the sound of Sam shouting, and the faint sound of Cole’s deep soothing voice trying to calm him. My heart clenches at the sound. I insert the key card and push open the door. I am shocked at the state of the room—it is completely trashed. There is a lamp smashed on the floor, glass everywhere, and all of the furniture is upturned. Sam is sitting in the corner of the room with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looks like a frightened animal: trembling, his eyes are glazed, and he looks terrified. I look from him to Cole, who is sitting on the edge of the bed shaking his head as if to say, ‘you shouldn’t be here’. Sam’s eyes meet mine, and a lone tear falls down his cheek. I go to move towards him, and Cole stands up. He clears his throat.
“Can I have a word in private please, Peyton?”
I nod, and Sam’s face looks stricken.
“It’s all right, try and stay calm; we’ll just be a sec, mate, I need to talk to, Peyton.” Cole tries to placate him; it seems to be working as Sam lets out a shaky breath. He leads me towards the bathroom and pushes the door, so it is ajar but not completely closed. He turns on the tap to drown out our voices.
“What the fuck is going on, Cole?” I snap, and Cole lets out a breath.
He lowers his voice. “I can’t get through to him Peyton; it’s like he’s stopped listening to me. After you left, he went completely crazy, he’s so far gone I’m starting to worry he won’t come back from this. The only other person who can talk to him and get through to him when he’s like this is his dad, but Marlowe is my last and final resort.”
I look at him, and he scrubs his hands down his face. “What a fucking mess.”
I brush his arm in reassurance. “Please let me try.”
He nods, and I leave the bathroom. I crouch down in front of Sam, and his pained eyes meet mine. I cup his face in my hands.
“Baby, you’re breaking my heart,” I tell him, my voice thick with unshed tears. “Please let me in. I need you to talk to me, Sam.”
He holds my gaze and puts his hand over mine on his face.
“I’m so sorry angel,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“You don’t need to apologise to me, you’re ill, and you’re not yourself right now. Jax told me everything.”
His eyes widen, but he is silent.
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”
He shakes his head. “I was ashamed, you’re the only good thing to come out of all this; you don’t deserve to be involved in this fucking mess, angel.”
I get to my feet and offer him my hand. He looks up at me and takes it; I lead him over to the bed and lie down. I pat the space next to me, and he complies, lying down beside me. I lay my head on his chest, and we get comfortable on the bed.
“Start talking, rock star.”
I hear him chuckle softly. “Where do I start?”
I laugh. “How about the beginning, baby?”
I take his hand in mine and stroke it gently. His knuckles are bruised and covered in dried blood.
“I need you to tell me one thing before I start. Did I hurt you? I couldn’t bear to think that I hurt you and laid my hands on you while I was like that.”
His voice is pained, and my heart clenches. I shake my head.
“No, you didn’t hurt me baby; you were a little rough but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
He strokes my arm. “I’m so sorry angel,” he whispers, and in a gesture of reassurance, I kiss his knuckles.
“My medication makes me feel dead inside, Peyton. Why do you think I only ever had meaningless sex without feeling anything for so long? I flushed my pills a few days after I met you, that first morning you woke up in my bed, in a rare moment of clarity. I promised myself I wouldn’t be just an emotionless shell anymore; if we were going to do the whole relationship thing, I didn’t want anything in the way. I didn’t want you to be just another conquest; I wanted it to be real.”
He moves closer to me and wraps his strong familiar arms around me.
“J.D. thought it was a bad idea from the moment I told him. He called my dad and told everyone in the crew to keep an eye on me. I had a grip on it, I was fine! I was finally alive for the first time in a long fucking time. I have emotions and feelings now, feelings that weren’t there before. Up until the accident. I started to lose control, and I’m so fucking sorry for that, angel. I know I f
ucked up, and I was suffocating you, but you have to understand. It’s like all the stuff I didn’t feel before was rushing to the surface and it completely overwhelmed me.”
I suddenly feel responsible for all this happening to him and as if he reads my mind, he says, “None of this is your fault, angel, you have to believe me when I say that. I take full responsibility for everything that’s happened since I’ve been off my meds. But I wasn’t totally honest with you about why I was in rehab I had a drug problem, but it was also because of my depression. I’m sorry I was economical with the truth, but everything I have done, my actions, are all because I was trying to protect you. Shield you from this fucking shit storm. If you want to go I wouldn’t blame you, angel, the door is right there.”
I shake my head. How could he possibly think I would want to leave right now?
“I’m not going anywhere, Sam; I intend to stick around for the long haul. I love you, so much.”
He kisses me gently on my forehead and strokes my hand.
“I took it out on the people closest to me. I’ve been lashing out at everyone, and I don’t know how I’m going to make up for that, but I’ll spend my life trying if that’s what it takes.”
I snuggle closer to him, hoping to offer him some sort of comfort. I hate seeing my strong man hurting like this, knowing there isn’t a single thing I can do to make it right.
“I’m so fucking sorry for everything I’ve put you through, I’m such an idiot.”
We lie there for a while just listening to each other breathing, revelling in the silence and Sam’s quiet calmness. As I am lying on his chest, I hear his breathing even out, and before I glance up, I know he has fallen asleep. Cole comes out of the bathroom, and a look of relief washes over his features. He sits in an overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room.
“How do you do that, sugar?” he whispers, and I smile.
“I must have the magic touch!”
He laughs. I slide out slowly from Sam’s arms and sit on the edge of the bed.
“I love him so much, Cole, and he is everything to me. Seeing him that way earlier broke my heart. It makes me feel like I hardly know him at all.”
Cole regards me intently.
“You’re the first girl in a long time. I have never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. He might be off his medication, but the way he feels about you isn’t in question, not for a second. The thing with Sam is that once he has his mind set on something he does it regardless of the consequences. He’s a kind of a do now think later kind of guy.”
I smile at Cole’s accurate description of Sam. I look at him and decide now is the time for answers.
“Who’s Lyla?”
Cole lets out a sigh. “She is in his past, you’re his future.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t give me that generic bullshit, Cole, and don’t insult my fucking intelligence. Who is she? Why is she here?”
He leans forward in the chair and rests his elbows on his knees.
“It’s complicated.”
A loud pounding on the door prematurely halts our conversation. Sam flinches at the sound, and his eyes fly open as he sits bolt upright. Cole gets up from his chair and strides towards the door. He opens it and standing in the doorway is Marlowe Newbolt.
Sam’s calmness is short-lived, and I see him visibly tense. “What the fuck, Cole?”
Marlowe walks slowly into the room. “Sam, I’m here to help.” Marlowe’s voice is soft and calming. I shake my head at Cole and get up from the bed, I jab my finger in his chest.
“I had it under control! You saw that I had finally calmed him down! What the fuck!”
“I’m so sorry Peyton, I know you’re upset, but I didn’t know what else to do. I called him right before you got here, he wouldn’t listen to me. I had no choice.”
“I was handling him, and I was in the room right down the corridor the whole time. You could have come and got me.”
Sam stands up, and Marlowe moves closer to him. I anxiously watch the exchange between father and son unfold in front of me.
“Sam, you’re ill, son, you just need a little bit of help that’s all. You’ll be back to your old self in no time at all.”
Marlowe smiles warmly and goes over to the mini bar, slinging his jacket over the arm of the chair as he goes. He takes out a bottle of water and starts to pour it into a glass tumbler with his back to us. Sam shakes his head and scrubs his hands down his face.
“Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be back to my old self! I’m happier this way! I don’t feel fucking dead inside, I finally feel alive, Dad. It’s thanks to Peyton that I’m still here.”
Marlowe brushes Sam’s arm. “Here drink this, son, you’ll feel better.”
He turns around and hands Sam the glass of water. I can’t help but think there is something going on that I don’t know about. I narrow my eyes at Cole, and he looks to the floor, avoiding eye contact. Marlowe moves closer to his son, and as Sam takes a long sip on the glass of water, the glass crashes to the floor. I scream and freeze in place at what just happened. Marlowe put something in his own son’s drink. What the fuck?
“Sam!” I scream. Marlowe and Cole catch him before all six foot four of him hits the floor, and his eyes lock with mine.
“Angel, I’m sorry.”
With those words, Sam’s eyes close, and he is out cold on the hotel room floor. I sob uncontrollably and sink to the floor beside him. I stroke his hair gently and Marlowe crouches down next to me.
“It was for the best. Peyton, you have to understand that. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course you had a fucking choice! He is not some animal you can put down, he is a human being!” I shout. I take Sam’s hand in mine and plant a kiss on the back. “It’s going to be all right, baby, I’m here.”
I am more than a little gobsmacked at the turn of events that have unfolded. Marlowe placing his hand gently on my shoulder interrupts my thoughts.
“Come on, love, we should talk.”
I shake my head. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me, Marlowe,” I choke out. Marlowe removes his hand from my shoulder and takes a step back from me. “I can’t leave him. What if he wakes up and I’m not here?” A tear rolls down my cheek.
“He is going to be fine. It was just a mild sedative mixed with his medication. Completely harmless, and he’ll come round in an hour or two, right as rain.”
I swipe the tears away and look up at Marlowe.
“How could you do that to him? Your own son?”
Marlowe scrubs his hands down his face, and he looks exhausted. I let go of Sam’s hand and get to my feet. I brush past Marlowe and Cole, walk into the bathroom, and close the door. I lean on the counter and try to compose myself.
Get it together, Harper, Sam needs you. I take a deep breath and splash cold water on my tear-stained face. A few minutes pass and the door taps softly.
“Peyton,” Marlowe’s soothing voice filters through the door. “Can I come in, love?”
I open the door and look up into his green eyes, which remind me so much of Sam. He pulls me into his chest and wraps me in his arms. Even though I am spitting mad at him for doing that to Sam, I can do nothing but cling to him and sob. I sob for my beautifully broken man who is currently out cold on the hotel room floor. He strokes my hair.
“Shush, it’s all right, my love; he is going to be just fine in the morning. I know it’s hard seeing the man you love crumbling, but he is strong. I know you’re upset but don’t blame Cole for this, he was just doing his job. He has kept Sam on the straight and narrow for almost ten years. When Sam first got famous, he was so out of control he wouldn’t even listen to his mother or me, he let the fame go to his head in a big way. Twinned with Sam’s addictive personality it was a total recipe for disaster, he needed someone to take care of him when we weren’t around.”
I look up at him, knowing where this is going.
“You orchestrated the w
hole thing with Cole that night at the club?”
Marlowe is silent for a moment. “Cole is ex-military and an ex-cop, he is extremely intelligent, and he is engaged to Milo’s step-daughter, Amy. The bloke who smashed the glass was an old friend of mine, and the girl Brody felt up wasn’t his girlfriend, it was his sister. But Cole and Sam becoming close friends wasn’t my doing. Sam is an extremely good judge of character, and he chooses his friends carefully, which is a trait he inherited from me.”
He smiles proudly, and I pull away from our embrace, hearing voices outside the bathroom door. Marlowe opens the door; Jax is in the hotel room with us. Sam is passed out on the bed now; Cole must have moved him. Cole is at least three or four inches taller than Sam is and definitely a lot stronger. I step out of the bathroom followed by Marlowe. Marlowe sits on the edge of the bed and lets out a sigh.