by T. F. Walsh
• • •
“I suppose I’ll have to make my own dang coffee?” Sam kicked the snow from his boots and slipped them off at the door to his neighbor’s house.
“You have a coffeemaker at your house—go use it.” Riley didn’t make an effort to move his wheelchair out of the way as Sam headed to his kitchen.
“Love you too, pal.” Sam punched Riley lightly on the shoulder as he squeezed past.
“Bite me.” Riley raised a single finger in salute that, to anyone else, would have seemed offensive.
Knowing Riley’s kitchen as well as his own, Sam started to get the coffee grounds out, only to realize there was a fresh pot waiting. Aw, Riley really did love him. Passing up the chance to needle his friend further, he poured himself a mug and concentrated on getting himself warm.
“Don’t head out there until I can get some rock salt down on the ramp. It’s a wicked mess.”
“Do I look like I’m going anywhere?” Riley wheeled himself into the center of the kitchen and fixed Sam with a hard look.
Riley sure was pricklier than usual. Sam wrapped his icy fingers around the coffee mug and tried not to lose his temper with his friend. How would he feel if he was trapped in a wheelchair, dependent on the kindness of neighbors and visiting nurses for the most basic needs? It made his own problems much less significant.
“Figured you wouldn’t be by until tomorrow. Physical therapist doesn’t show until Wednesday.” As far as apologies went, this one was pretty weak. But Sam let it go.
“Yeah, well I needed some busy work.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs at the ankle. Because he knew Riley wouldn’t offer to listen to his woes, he just started talking.
“She’s here. Out of freaking nowhere, she shows up at my doorstep.” He lowered his head and stared hard at the floor.
“Your sister? The tooth fairy? Who are we talking, here?”
“Wynter.”
“No kidding?” Riley rubbed his hands together, leaning forward in his chair. “Finally, a little excitement around here. This should be good.”
Sam set his coffee aside, sliding down against the cabinets until he was sitting on the floor. He’d known Riley just a few weeks when he had opened up to the young serviceman about Wynter. His neighbor had just moved in and had proved to be even more shut in and bricked up than him. Seeing in Riley a kindred soul, Sam had offered his friendship by sharing something he hadn’t told anyone else. Even Paulie, his sister, didn’t know the whole truth about why he was out here.
“Want to know the real kick in the pants?” He stretched out his legs and rapped his head against the cabinet behind him. “She’s pregnant. She’s having my best friend’s baby.”
“Where’s the best friend? Is he still on the scene?”
“He died.” Sam’s voice wavered. It occurred to him that he hadn’t even processed this part yet, in his shock over seeing Wynter again.
“Man, that’s rough.” Riley shifted in his wheelchair.
He hadn’t asked how it had happened, wasn’t sure he even wanted to know. For so many years, it had been the three of them. Then he’d cut himself out of the picture. He’d had his friendship privileges revoked. If Wynter wanted to tell him anything, it was up to her. He didn’t deserve to ask.
“She came to you. Out of all the places she could have gone. That’s gotta be something,” Riley offered.
“I don’t even know how to feel about this.” Sam pushed himself off the floor and paced to the window, gripped the counter hard as he stared through the frosted glass.
“One minute I hate her for dredging everything up, reminding me of everything I lost. Then she gives me that soft, sad little smile and I see how vulnerable she is. She’s in a crappy situation and she just wants a friend.” He whipped around, digging his hands through his hair as he met Riley’s eyes.
“Oh, and here’s my ‘proud moment,’ the part where she walks in and she’s wearing this short little robe, pregnant belly out to here,” he gestured with his hand. “And I wonder what it would be like to take her right there against the counter. Who has those thoughts about their best friend?”
Once again, he slid to the floor, dropping his head to his knees as he rattled off a few choice expletives.
“She’s messing you up, man.” Riley’s words held pity and a twinge of something else—envy, perhaps?
“I was all set to take her to the airport. Hell, I would have paid for a ticket anywhere, just to see her gone. But I made a promise to her, a long time ago.” Sam stared at a frayed spot in his sock, wiggled his big toe and frowned harder when it poked itself right out. Crap.
“She didn’t have the easiest life growing up. Her parents took ‘strict’ to a whole new level. It’s like they had kids for the sole purpose of having someone to manipulate.”
Thinking of all the times he’d had to sneak into Wynter’s room, late at night, because she hadn’t been allowed out, Sam shuddered. If she didn’t cheerfully agree with absolutely everything the Allens asked of her, it was considered disrespect. She was sent to her room with no dinner, where the door was locked from the outside.
“I’ve got to help her.”
“Your buddy would want that. If I’d left a girl behind, I’d want to know she was cared for.”
“Ri, you aren’t dead.” Sam arched a brow up into his messy bangs.
“Close enough,” Riley snorted, angling his chair so he wouldn’t have to look his friend in the eye.
“You want someone to feel sorry for you, I’ll send Wynter over here. I’m sure she’d love to cheer you right up.” Grinning up at his friend, Sam chuckled when Riley spun his chair around so fast, it teetered on one wheel for a second.
“Don’t you dare! It’s enough that I have to see your ugly face, day in and day out.” Riley scowled.
“Yeah, you’re welcome for the whole plowing and shoveling thing, by the way.” Sam shook his head, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
“You only did it so you’d have a chance to come in and blabber about your feelings. I’d have put tea and cookies out, but I really don’t want to encourage these types of visits.” Riley sent a pointed glare in Sam’s direction.
Sam opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. Ri had nailed it. He’d come over to sort through his feelings, use his friend as a sounding board. A very un-guylike thing to do. He felt like he should crack open a beer, rip off a good belch and scratch himself, just to make up for the last twenty minutes or so. And ‘blabbering about it’, as Riley had put it, hadn’t helped in the least.
His thoughts were jumbled, telling him to resent Wynter for not respecting his need for privacy. He wanted to protect her because she was pregnant and vulnerable, and because it was something Holt would have asked of him. But Sam also wanted to claim her for his own.
He wanted to be like Riley, snarl and snap until she got the message and just went away. And he wanted to take a chance, to reach out and grab the one thing he’d wanted most in the world, the one person he’d never forgotten, the person he still loved. Wynter.
Chapter 4
The sheet made a satisfying snap as Wynter shook it out across the bed. It felt good to finally be doing something productive, even if it did nothing to solve her money problems. She had a load of laundry in the wash, one in the dryer and was considering organizing the linen closet next. She might as well. Sam had disappeared again, much the same as he had done the day before.
“Why is it that I keep discovering you in my bedroom?”
Wynter, who had been sprawled across the bed, trying to get the sides of the sheet lined up, was happy to be facing the mattress. She supposed this did look pretty bad. And if she embarrassed easily, this situation would have been a doozy. At least she hadn’t been snooping around this time.
“If you’d quit avoiding me, I wouldn’t have to look for things to keep me busy.”
Floundering for a moment, her eight-month pregnant belly made standing up again a
two part process. Wynter slid to her knees on the floor and then hauled herself upright, using the bed to steady herself. She wasn’t embarrassed, but it didn’t mean she cared to see the amusement that was probably all over Sam’s face just now.
“Oh, for crying out loud, you shouldn’t even be doing this.” He sounded more annoyed than amused, as he appeared by her side, guiding her away from the bed.
“I’m not helpless—I’m just pregnant!” Wynter’s voice was shrill, indignant.
“I meant you are a guest in this house, not my maid. If I wanted someone to change my sheets . . . ” He trailed off, looking around the room.
“You picked up my laundry too? God, Wynnie, you washed my underwear?” Sam’s hands flew up to tug at his hair, his expression stormy.
“It’s no big deal, Sam. I’ll let you fold them if it bothers you that much. You worried about what I’ll find in your underwear drawer?” She couldn’t resist teasing him. The guy looked completely flummoxed.
“Just leave my room to me, okay? My own little sanctuary. Let me just have this one space that’s private.”
Wynter sucked in a breath. Sam had hit below the belt with that one, but she couldn’t fault him for speaking the truth. Nodding curtly, she gave him a wide berth as she waddled as fast as her swollen feet would take her. Stupid, stupid! She hadn’t been invited. She’d played the childhood promise card and forced him to take her in temporarily. And then, just as quickly, she’d worn out her welcome.
Angry tears clouded her vision as she stood in front of the linen closet. She swiped them away with a shirtsleeve and began to haul down towels and sheets. A small pile lay at her feet when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t stifle the sob that welled up, burning her throat as it escaped. Sam took her hand and led her to the stairwell, easing them both down on the top riser.
“I’m sorry. I live alone. I work alone. I am very stuck in my ways. I’m not used to having someone else around, least of all a woman.”
“And a bossy woman who just marches in and does as she pleases.” Wynter’s lip quivered, as she was torn between laughing and crying.
“Just like she did when we were kids.” Sam slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed briefly before letting go. “I never stopped thinking about you, you know.”
“Of course not.” She flashed him a half smile, cursing the hormones that brought the waterworks back on in force.
“You’re scared.”
“I’m determined.” She didn’t like how close he was to laying bare her feelings.
“What can we do?” That adorably messy lock of hair over his eye was starting to distract her.
“Move to a thriving metropolis, where I can find a good job and an apartment on a busy bus line?” She knocked her shoulder into his, playfully. Then left it there because the connection grounded her.
“I work from home. That makes me more flexible than most. But I’ve never really been interested in the city life.”
“Move back to Scallop Shores with me. You have family there. Your grandmother misses you. Your sister . . . ”
“My sister knows where to find me and knows she and the boys are more than welcome to visit any time.” The tone of his voice suggested this conversational thread was quite done.
Wynter frowned. She started to lean her head against Sam’s shoulder, something she wouldn’t have thought twice about doing as teenagers, but she stopped herself now. Sam had changed. They had changed. Things were no longer as easy and carefree as they’d once been.
“Can I borrow a newspaper? Maybe an internet connection? I’ll do some research. There has to be something local.”
“Borrow anything you need, Wyn. But it’s not like I’m going to charge you rent or anything. Relax, enjoy your pregnancy. In a few weeks, your world is going to change forever.”
She turned around sharply to face him. How had she not thought this through? She needed money to get home to Scallop Shores. She needed a job. She needed a car. And all the while she had this clock ticking away inside, counting down to the birth of her baby girl. She’d managed to dump all her problems, all her responsibilities, into Sam’s lap.
“I have to get out of here.” She gripped his knees, panic lending strength and probably a few bruises. Gently, he pried her hands away and held them.
“Holt wouldn’t want you to go through this alone, Wyn. I know I failed you both as a friend. But I’d like to think that he’d give me this chance to make it up to you. He’d want you taken care of. If I were him, I would.” Sam’s voice was soft.
“I need to pay my way. This is just temporary. I want to go home, Sam.” The panic had subsided, leaving a steely determination and more than a touch of stubborn pride.
“Let me talk to someone. I may have an idea for a job.”
“But I still get to clean house and cook meals.” She stuck out her chin, daring him to argue with her.
“Fine. But Wynter? Leave my underwear alone.”
• • •
Upside down. That’s what she’d done to his life, flipped it completely upside down. Sam reached for the milk in the fridge, only to find that Wynter had moved things around. He used to know where everything was. Hell, it was his house, he should know! Now this little fiery tornado had swept in and knocked his quiet solitary life off kilter.
Pouring himself a glass, he found some satisfaction in returning the cardboard carton to its original spot on the top shelf inside the door. She’d totally called it when she had accused him of hiding. But the longer she spent under his roof, the more Sam found himself seeking her out. Though part of that, he had to admit, was just to keep tabs on what sort of mischief she was currently up to. Not that her antics angered him, really quite the opposite. Though he kept up a gruff façade so she didn’t completely tear his house apart.
Oh, Wynter. He’d thought about her over the years, much as he tried not to. His grandmother thought she was doing him a favor when she filled him in on Wynter’s latest letters. They’d always had a strong bond and had kept up correspondence over the years. His sister was giddy the day she informed him that his two best friends had gotten married. He’d drunk himself stupid that night.
He’d tied the events of one fateful night to Wynter. Unfairly, no question, but it served a dual purpose. If he didn’t see her, he wouldn’t remember the pain, the loss, the crippling weight of guilt that had sent him into seclusion in the first place. He’d also hoped the distance would dull the longing, the bittersweet dreams of first love. Sam scoffed, wiping milk from his lips with the back of his hand.
Wynter’s pregnancy hormones were permeating the air, making him think about his feelings. It was disgusting. Just another way she blasted in and changed things. He didn’t want to think, about that fateful night or about how things might have been. He was good, really good, at burying his feelings. And without trying, Wynter was even better at dredging them up.
He had to help her get on her feet. The sooner she was gone, the better. He drummed his fingers on the counter, wondering how best to approach his prickly neighbor about a paying job for Wynter. Riley took a while to warm up to new people in his life. Sam wasn’t sure how his wheelchair-bound friend would treat Wynnie, but knowing her, she could handle anything Riley dished out.
“Sam! Goonies is on. Get in here.”
Now that was a blast from the past. Sam and Wynter must have watched that movie a hundred times while they were growing up. He was drawn to the TV room, where the familiarity wrapped around him like a comfortable blanket. She looked up from the couch, smiling eagerly as she patted the cushion beside her. Sam sat down, stretching his long legs out and resting them on the rough-hewn pine coffee table. He lifted his arm and Wynter took up her usual position, snuggled up to his side. Like time had gone backwards.
“We need popcorn,” he said, at the first commercial break.
“Oh, please, no.” She sat up, wrinkling her nose. “The smell of popcorn makes me nauseous. Sorry. Pregnancy
thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, giving him an embarrassed smile.
Reality came crashing back to the forefront, reminding Sam of all the years he had missed. Yeah, he’d gotten reports from Gran and Paulie, but it wasn’t the same as having his friend right here. He turned to her, finally ready to learn about her life with Holt, to learn about his other friend’s fate.
“So you and Holt got married about ten years ago and moved to SoCal?” He turned to face her, unsure if she was up to talking about her husband, so recently buried.
Wynter’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt or upset.
“Yeah, well, we were out there already, for school. Remember?” All three of them had gotten into UCLA and though their career paths differed, they were determined not to break up the trio.
After losing his parents, Sam had transferred, last minute, to a computer science school in upstate New York. He hadn’t left a forwarding address for either Holt or Wynter. The trio was officially disbanded.
“Anyway, Holt had his heart set on being an actor. He was constantly going on auditions. And he was an extra a few times. Just another body in a large crowd scene. Never got to speak a single line, but you should have seen how proud he was.” She shook her head, her smile reminiscent.
“Why not New York? You guys would have been closer to home, able to visit for the holidays.”
“He had this ridiculous obsession with Hollywood. Holt insisted that is where he had to be. Oh, and he worked so hard to make connections, Sam.” Her eyes left his, focusing on a point in her past that only Wynter could see.
“He got a job as a valet at Universal. He was also a waiter at restaurants near all the major studios.”
“And you? Did the housewife thing, parked it on the couch to eat bonbons in front of the soaps all day?” His smile was mischievous, yet he pretended to wince when she jabbed him a good one in the arm. She stuck her tongue out at him.