“Still?” Connor had assumed Samantha’s mother had been asleep when he first arrived, which had to have been at least three or four hours ago.
“Yeah, the doctors at the hospital gave her some sort of sedative. She completely lost it there for a little while,” Samantha shook with the memories of her mother’s break down. She tried to push them aside. “What are you doing?” she asked Connor, bringing herself back to the here and now.
“You should try to eat. I know you don’t think you are hungry, but you should try,” he was trying to feed her. He wanted to take care of her. If her heart weren’t broken it would be glowing. She walked around the counter and folded herself into his chest again. He wrapped her up in his big arms, making her feel safe under the weight of him. The sight of her mother came back to her, haunting images of her shattered family.
“She just completely broke down. It destroyed her. He is the love of her life. I have never seen her like that. I don’t know how we are going to get through this,” her words were spoken more to the world in general than to Connor.
“It will hurt and it will be hard, but you will make it through,” his comforting words. She didn’t believe him, but it helped that he said them all the same.
“You didn’t see her. She was hysterical. She just kept screaming and crying. They had to sedate her and I had to drive her home. She has been asleep ever since. I’m afraid she won’t remember when she wakes up and I will have to tell her again that her husband is dead. How am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know,” his honest answer hung in the air as they clung to each other. After several minutes he kissed her head and spun her around slowly to face the sandwich on the counter. He kept his arms wrapped around her waist and his body pressed against hers. The warmth gave her comfort, providing her the physical and emotional support she needed.
“Try to eat. Please, just a little. For me,” his gentle words made her want to comply. She took a bite of the sandwich even though just the thought of eating made her feel sick. She didn’t taste anything. She took a small bite, chewed for what seemed like the right amount of time, and tried to swallow without gagging. She repeated these steps three times before the exhausting process was too much and she couldn’t eat any more.
“Drink this,” Connor said as he pushed a glass of orange juice in front of her. Suddenly, thoughts of weekend breakfasts with her father popped into her head. It was his orange juice. He loved it. No one else usually drank it. The realization that this was the last bottle of orange juice her father would ever buy shot waves of grief rattling through her body. She thought of all the unknown lasts she had with her father, their last meal, their last chat, their last hug. She collapsed back into Connor again, sobbing. He lifted her up and took her back to her room. He cradled her in his arms while she cried for the rest of the night. She fell asleep on his chest, her fists full of his shirt as if to make sure he didn’t disappear as she slept. He made the worst night of her life bearable.
Rays of sun woke Samantha up the next morning, her first morning without her father. Connor was asleep underneath her, arms still tightly wrapped around her. She let her hands trace the line of his jaw and across his lips. Those familiar words floated in her head. I love you. She loved Connor Grayson and after last night she knew he loved her too. It would have been so easy to become dependent on that love, to need him. She felt it pulling her in even now as she watched his soft rhythmic breathing.
Her thoughts drifted to the image of her mother in the emergency room. When she was told her husband died, she had completely shut down. She was unable to function. The sight of her mother utterly broken terrified Samantha. Before she was a functioning human being. After, she was just a shattered shell of what used to be a woman. Samantha had been worried about the heartbreak she would feel if Connor didn’t love her. She now knew the pain of rejection would be nothing compared to the crippling loss of his love after she had come to depend on it. Like her mother, she would crumble to dust, incapable of surviving a life without him.
As she looked down at the sleeping face of her first love, she remembered her last conversation with her father. You are going to be making decisions about how you want to live your life. About the kind of person you want to be. I know you will make good choices. She needed to be strong. She had to take care of her mother. She couldn’t ever let herself breakdown the way that she did. She couldn’t ever let herself need anyone. She couldn’t be with Connor. She loved him too much to ever survive losing him. A tear rolled town Samantha’s cheek as she woke Connor up with a kiss. It was just one of a million tears she had shed in the last twenty four hours, but it was the first that wasn’t for her father. This tear was for Connor and the final shattering of what had been left of her tattered heart.
“Connor, it’s time to get up,” her voice was soft, but firm. She was beginning to regain some of the strength she lost yesterday. A new resolve had dawned with the new day.
“Mmm, what time is it?” his voice was thick with sleep. Samantha tried to memorize the sound of it so she could treasure it later.
“It is almost eight. You are going to be late for practice.”
“I can skip it today. I’m going to stay here and help you out,” he sat up and tried to pull her towards him, but she was already out of his reach.
“No, it’s okay. Really. I think I need to be alone with my Mom today,” she tried to hide the conflict in her voice. She desperately wanted him to stay, to help her, to be her strength, but she needed to stand on her own two feet. She needed to be able to get through this without him, without anyone.
“Okay, I get that,” he said finally after looking her over, as if examining her for visible wounds to match the pain in her heart. It was clear he wanted to be there for her more than anything, but he didn’t want to push. “Will you call me if you need anything?” he started following her to the backdoor, knowing by her body language she was saying goodbye.
“Sure,” she knew she wouldn’t. He paused in the doorway, wrapping her in his arms one last time, pressing his forehead to hers.
“I love you,” he said so softly she almost didn’t hear. He didn't say it so that she would say it back. He said it because he wanted to. He had wanted to since almost the first second he saw her. And because he thought she needed to hear it.
“Thank you,” was the only response she could give him, the three words she could never say choking her as she kissed him goodbye. She put her hand on his chest and pushed almost imperceptibly until he turned and walked away.
“I love you too,” Samantha said to the closed door only after she was sure he was gone.
Samantha let several hours go by, trying to busy herself around the house and avoid thinking about the reality that had become her life now. She took her mother some food, trying to force her to eat as Connor had done for her last night. She did laundry. She took out the trash. She vacuumed the carpet. She mopped the floor. When the house was completely spotless and she ran out of chores, she let her mind drift to the things that needed to happen, the things her mother should be doing. She called her debate teacher and quit the team. She called her mother's work. It had taken her awhile to figure out the words to use. Simply saying there was a death in the family seemed too belittling. That is what you say when a great aunt no one likes finally dies at the age of a hundred. Outright telling people her father died in a car accident last night seemed too personal. She decided telling people she her father had passed was the compromise. She hated the word “lost” as if they could find him if they searched hard enough. Saying he had passed away made people think it wasn’t as sudden, that they had time to adjust. It was mercifully vague enough that people just made placid apologies and offered theoretical support. Even with the right words, each time Samantha had to explain the situation was excruciating. She could feel the awkward sympathy through the phone line and tried to harden herself to the pitying comments. Her parents were both only children with deceased parents, so
the notifications were pretty minimal, but so was the support. With her mother still incapacitated, Samantha was on her own. She spent the rest of her morning learning how to plan a funeral.
After she had begun at least enough planning to wait for her mother’s decisions on location and pricing for the services, she turned her thoughts to Connor. She again tried to harden herself, this time to the idea of life without Connor. When she was sure Connor was in the middle of practice and wouldn’t be looking at his phone, she sent him the message that she would regret nearly every day for the rest of her life.
Elsie: I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. Thank you for everything. Please don’t contact me again.
Chapter Thirteen - The Carving
Eleven Years Ago
Connor hated walking away from Samantha that morning. She had seemed so fragile last night and all he wanted to do was protect her. The memory of her tears tore his heart apart. He knew he couldn’t do anything to make her pain go away, but at least when she was in his arms he felt like he could prevent anything else from hurting her. But, that wasn’t what she wanted. She had literally pushed him out the door this morning. She had been so shut down. Connor was trying not to take her coldness personally. He was trying to respect the distance she seemed to need. It had hurt that she barely even acknowledged him when he said he loved her, but he knew he was being selfish. Everything had to be about what she needed right now.
Connor had driven back to his house after he left Samantha’s. As expected, his parents hadn’t noticed he had been gone all night. Despite having barely slept and having a stiff back from leaning against Samantha’s headboard for hours, Connor grabbed his bag and headed out to practice. Samantha had asked to have the day to herself to deal with her mother. He knew he was going to need the distraction to keep from going back to her.
Connor was useless at practice. He was completely incapable of focusing. Just like the week after their first meeting, he couldn’t keep himself from thinking about Samantha. Except now the thoughts weren’t about touching her. They were about taking care of her. He was desperate to know how she was doing, what she needed, how he could help. He had kept his phone on him all morning during warm-ups, checking it compulsively, until his coach had literally ripped it from his hand. He had been banished to running laps for the remainder of practice. He had been aching to hear from Samantha. When the coach finally gave him back his phone after practice and he saw a missed message from her he kicked himself for not staying home so he could have gone to her as soon as she reached out. When he read the message, the physical pain was so severe, he dropped to his knees unable to breathe. It felt as if someone had ripped his heart out of his chest.
Elsie: I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. Thank you for everything. Please don’t contact me again.
When he was finally able to draw a breath again, Connor had to exercise every ounce of willpower he had left in his body not to call her back immediately. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t figure out why she pushed him away. Had he done something wrong? Was he not what she needed? He wanted to be so badly. Connor walked to his car in a confused haze. He sat in the parking lot staring out through his windshield, a million memories of his time with Samantha racing through his mind. When he started his car, he thought he didn’t know where he was going. If he were honest, he knew there was only one place he could go. He drove to Samantha’s.
Connor sat in his car outside of Samantha’s house for two hours. He spent his time alternating between typing and deleting texts to her and searching the windows for glimpses of her. He had even gotten out of the car once, taken three steps toward her front door before he turned back. He was torn between wanting to be there for her and wanting to honor her wishes for space. He was also desperate to know why she suddenly needed space from him. Yesterday he had been the one she needed. Today she didn’t want him. It was killing him not knowing why.
After the third hour of his vigil, Connor drove home without seeing or hearing from Samantha. He locked himself in his room after a quick shower and grabbing a bite in the kitchen. He was exhausted and yet restless. The exhaustion finally won out around one in the morning and he drifted off to sleep. When his alarm went off five hours later he felt like he had been hit by a bus. The first thing he did was grab his phone. Still no messages from Samantha. He let out a long sigh, dragging his hands down his face. He resolved to try his best to do what she had asked, not to contact her. If he was honest, all the excuses he had racked his brain yesterday to come up with for reaching out to here were selfish. She was hurting and this was what she had asked from him. The least he could do was to give her the space she asked for, as much as it killed him.
Connor spent the next two months keeping himself as busy as possible. He added another workout to his daily routine. He spent an extra hour at the batting cages. He researched the UCLA campus and started looking at classes. He spent time with his family. He started packing. He did everything he could to keep from thinking about Samantha. None of it worked. He walked by her debate classroom every day, even though he was pretty sure she dropped the class. He drove by her house at least once a day, although now he refused to let himself park outside. The only time he had seen Samantha at all was weeks ago at her father’s funeral. His family, as well as nearly everyone from the neighborhood, had gone to pay their respects. It was a short but personal service.
Samantha had looked shaken, but strong. Her mother still seemed absent, almost like she was sleepwalking. Connor didn’t know if that was because she was in shock or because she was still sedated. In any case, Samantha seemed to be the one in control. There had been people constantly hovering around her, but she seemed so alone. From what Connor could tell, they didn’t have any other family at the service. His heart ached for her. It ached to be with her. He watched her the entire service, but made sure he stayed out of her line of sight. It wasn’t until they were leaving the church that she saw him. Her mother’s eyes were locked on the floor as if she was walking a tightrope, afraid to fall off. She clung to Samantha’s arm as it were her only lifeline. Samantha’s head was held high and she gave people silent little nods as they walked up the aisle behind the casket as if to say thank you for attending. When her eyes met Connor's, there was a brief second of recognition. He thought he saw a flash of longing in them before she looked away and continued with her little nods to the rest of the crowd. That look was all he had from her for two months.
It was the morning Connor was leaving for UCLA. He had said his goodbyes to his family and friends. His car was packed and he was ready to hit the freeway. Instead, he found himself parked in front of Samantha’s house. He knew he wasn’t going to knock on her door. He wasn’t expecting to see her. He just wanted to feel closer to her before he left, before they were done forever. He had hoped that she would eventually reach out to him. When things settled down in her life, when her mother came back to her senses, he was sure she would come back to him. At the very least she owed him a real goodbye. He never got one. With one last sigh and a heavy heart Connor drove away, never expecting to see Samantha again.
Samantha knew that Connor was at UCLA, but her first day back at school she couldn’t help herself from looking for him in every face she passed. She had been desperate to see him over the past few weeks. She refused to call him, but every day she secretly hoped he would knock on her door. She missed him desperately. She knew she would give in if he reached out to her. He never did.
She avoided using their bathroom for the first month of her senior year even though it was the closest to her classes. She was afraid of the memories it would spark. Once she became accustomed to not seeing him, she forced herself to go inside of it. It was just a damn bathroom after all. As she reached out for the door handle to leave she saw it, a carving of a four leaf clover. It was fairly well done for bathroom graffiti. Someone had taken their time. It was carved deeply into the wooden door, giving the leaves a sense of depth. She leaned in closer to see th
e writing around it.
Lucky loves Elsie forever
It was Connor. He must have carved it before he left, using their nicknames for each other as a final secret goodbye. Samantha bit into the side of her cheek, tasting blood as tears threatened to spring out of her eyes. She ran from the bathroom, trying to escape the memories of her first love. She didn't use that bathroom again for the rest of her senior year.
Chapter Fourteen - Monday Morning
They had only been part a few days, but Samantha had spent every waking minute thinking of Connor. She saw him from across the office on Monday morning. He smiled the same easy smile at her, acting as if nothing had changed. His body language gave nothing away. He was wearing a soft pink dress shirt, the exact shade of the blush it caused on Samantha’s cheeks. Samantha chased away the butterflies dancing in her stomach with a swig of coffee and tried to focus on her work for the day.
Samantha knew the first order of business had to be clearing things up with Jessica. She was in the wrong for snapping at her last week. Connor's admonishment had made sure Samantha knew it. The longer she put it off, the more embarrassing the mea culpa would be. Still, Samantha wasn’t in a hurry to start her week off groveling. She wasn’t good at apologizing, probably because she rarely did it. Admitting she was wrong was admitting weakness. If there was something Samantha hated more than anything else in the world, it was showing weakness.
The apology would have been easier had she felt more comfortable with where she stood with Connor. At least then she could have the last laugh, snatch victory out of the defeat knowing she was walking away with the prize Jessica had sought with all her flirting. Samantha tried not to read into the fact that she was considering Connor to be the prize, one she might be tempted to win. Unfortunately, her first date with Connor was awkward and confusing. The normal social pleasantries that Samantha had easily managed at many business dinners hadn’t seemed appropriate with Connor. The simple act of making small talk was excruciating. The air around them had felt charged, her words the spark. She was terrified to burn them both to ash. The result was frequent uncomfortable silences. A wave of jealousy flooded Samantha when she thought of how easily Connor and Jessica had flirted. Why was it so hard for her? She knew how to flirt. She didn’t date, but she knew how to attract a man when it suited her. She could bat her eyes and pucker her lips with the best of them. For some reason, she couldn’t use those tricks with Connor. Samantha shook off her insecurities, calling Tammy into her office.
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