“What time do you have work?” Sam asked, resting his head on the pillow again.
“Ten.”
Realizing we still had a few hours to spare, he asked, “Want some breakfast? I can whip something up.”
It would be nice to enjoy a leisurely morning, but I wanted to check in on Mom and I had the whole Bryce situation dangling over my head. There was no way around it; it wasn’t going away. I wouldn’t be able to move on, to truly put my all into this, until the smoke cleared and the dust settled. However, I would make an effort to not make it seem as though I was throwing Sam on some back burner.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll grab a granola bar or something from next door.” I flung the blanket off with a huff. “I should probably head over there now to take a shower.”
“You can take one here.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I know I can, but . . .” There were so many things I wanted to say. So many things I wished were possible. Like a pause button that we could press to freeze the momentum of everything going on around us and explore this new reality with reckless abandon.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Sam finally had what he wanted in his grasp but he still had to tread lightly because of the circumstances surrounding us.
I reached over to grab his hand and assured him my heart was in the right place, even if it was still playing catch-up. “It’d be unfair to ask you to take this slow because you’ve already waited so long, so I won’t. I’m ready to do this, but there are a few things in the way right now. I need to focus some of my attention there before I can give it all to you.”
Sam sat up, leaning against the headboard. “I think I deserve the Most Patient Man in the World award.”
I giggled as I, too, sat up and rested my head on his shoulder. “You do, and you are, and I can’t thank you enough.”
He pulled me against him and kissed the top of my head. “Anything for you, babe. Even if it kills me.”
I’d managed to convince Sam that it was time to part ways. For today.
Now that I have you, I don’t ever want to let go.
His words mirrored my thoughts. How crazy to think that yesterday he was merely my best friend and now a world of possibilities was at our fingertips.
I couldn’t quite wrap my head around everything, and there were issues to resolve before I could devote all of my time and energy to loving Sam.
Kissing him good-bye—my, how things had changed—I left him to rest in the guest room and saw myself out. With a light-hearted air to my step, I walked out onto his porch, unable to keep myself from beaming with happiness.
This was really happening, wasn’t it? Me and Sam. Sam and me. Absolutely crazy in the most amazing way.
I bent to pick up the newspaper from where the paperboy left it on the steps and heard rustling in the bushes that separated our houses. From the corner of my eye, I knew it was him before the vision was clear.
Bryce.
Shit! This wasn’t good. In fact, everything about this scenario looked really fucking bad.
“Tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing. Tell me I’m imagining things.” His fists were tight at his sides, his lips a firm line of anger.
I drew in a breath and stood motionless as I stared at him. No matter what I said, or that this really wasn’t what it looked like, the evidence was incriminating.
Steeling my composure, I approached him as someone would a stray, mad dog with no way to tell whether he’d attack or run away. “Bryce, before you jump to conclusions, let me explain what you’re seeing.”
His broad shoulders rose and fell with sharp, harried breaths. His jaw was tense and taut. On second thought, he wasn’t running away.
“What I’m seeing is my girlfriend leaving another man’s house, wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday.” That came out calm and quiet enough. But what he said next was so loud I worried Sam would hear from inside. “Don’t tell me this is not what it looks like! This is exactly what it looks like!”
“Bryce, please calm down.”
My first reaction was to go to him, to comfort him. But then I remembered his rage in the car, his aggression back at his office. I registered the fury in his eyes and backed away with my hands in the air. It didn’t matter how much distance I put between us, though, because he ate up the walkway with each giant step he took, marking me as his target.
“Calm down? Why should I calm down? Why should I listen to anything that comes out of that lying mouth of yours? You told me I had nothing to worry about. That he was just your friend! You betrayed me, London. You made me out to be a fool. You’re no better than her.”
Her? It was obvious he was angry, but who the hell was he talking about? The closer he got to me, the louder his voice boomed and the more terrified I became. I wanted to yell for Sam, but I was certain once he came outside, Bryce would snap.
I tried to ward him off by talking him down. “You’re scaring me, Bryce. And this isn’t the first time. Maybe you should leave and cool down. We can talk later, when you’re not so upset.”
He stopped stalking forward and gritted his teeth as he spat, “Oh, I’m not upset. I’m fucking heartbroken. You told me—you promised me—that you were mine. After everything we’ve been through . . . after everything I’ve done for you . . . how can you do this to me?”
At that, hot tears pricked my eyes and I guarded my face with trembling hands. I hadn’t intended to hurt him, but I didn’t deserve this. I’d done nothing wrong.
“Please stop shouting. I didn’t do anything,” I cried. When I uncovered my eyes, I caught Bryce glaring past me and that’s when I knew.
Sam was behind me.
This was about to get even uglier.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sam flew down the steps and shielded me with his body so fast there was no time to think.
“I came to check on my girl. Never imagined I’d find her slinking out of your place like some ordinary whore.”
I shrank at the insult, my complexion no doubt blanching to an ashy shade of humiliation.
“Watch your mouth, asshole!” Sam thrust forward but restrained from raising his hands.
“Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me how to act after finding out the woman I love is a goddamn whore!”
The slap to my dignity was as harsh the second time. “Oh my God, Bryce. Please stop screaming. The neighbors. I live here.”
“Why don’t you go inside?” Sam turned my body with little effort, pointing me toward the front door. “Let’s take care of you and then I’ll take care of . . . this.”
“Does he know? Huh?” Bryce’s tone was even-keeled now but there was an unmistakable trace of shadiness to his question. I couldn’t respond before he vilified me further. “Does he know I fucked you first? That I was inside you yesterday, probably not even an hour before he was?”
“You son of a bitch!” Sam lunged forward, coming within an inch of Bryce’s face. “Shut your fucking mouth and walk away before I end you.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” He snickered. “The last asshole who got in my way wound up eating out of a straw for a month. He paid for taking her from me, just like you will. She’s fucking mine. You don’t love her like I do.”
Sam sneered, shaking his head. “You’re fucking delusional, man.”
“No. No, I’m not. I’m here for what’s mine, so get out of my way.” Bryce pushed forward but Sam was a sturdy barricade of thick muscle and iron-clad will and his restraint was deteriorating with every threat. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken a swing at Bryce.
I, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than for this to end before it came to that. Sam blocked most of my view but I could see the way Bryce’s eyes seared through me. Hell, I could feel it. He wasn’t just angry, he was hurt and I did this to him. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, and ending things with him was obviously for the best, but I empathized with him. I’d been in his shoes—on the losing end. Losing
gracefully was an art; it took nobility and strength. But when the loss was an actual person you loved and cared for, the emptiness that followed seemed to be an insurmountable black hole.
“Bryce, please,” I cried out over Sam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but . . . you should go.”
At the realization that my choice had been made, Bryce lurched forward, slamming his hands against Sam’s chest and propelling him backward. Sam kept his footing and took a swing. Bryce ducked out of the way in time, getting in a sharp jab to Sam’s ribcage.
“You motherfucker!” Sam cursed. “London! Go inside!”
I wanted to, but my feet were glued to the pavement. I was immobile with fear. I couldn’t look away. Bryce was wailing on Sam, blow after blow, each wilder than the last. Sam wasn’t backing down either, matching each of Bryce’s punches with one of his own.
I saw the red splatter of blood on the ground. I heard the snap and pop of fists meeting bone.
I didn’t even realize I was screaming until I felt his hands on my shoulders. I opened my eyes to Sam’s bruised face in front of me, the small gash on his brow already leaking red.
“Sam, oh my God. Are you okay?”
He was breathless, but he was standing. He was with me.
“I’m good, babe. I’m fine.” His chest puffed and deflated as he struggled to breathe. “Are you okay?”
I nodded feverishly, diving forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and held him close, thankful, safe.
“How could you do this to me, Lauren? How could you break my heart all over again? You promised me,” Bryce whimpered from the ground where Sam had left him. He was mumbling, but it was still easy to make out his mistake.
“Who’s Lauren?” I whispered into Sam’s ear.
“Who the fuck knows.”
Bryce grumbled again and then slowly got to his feet. He turned toward us and I immediately released my hold on Sam. I didn’t want to work him up again by seeing us together, so I sidestepped away from him.
“Bryce, you have to go. Do-do you need me to call someone?”
“Call someone?” he mocked and then his demeanor shifted from shut down to wrecked beyond repair. “You were my someone. You are my someone. Since the moment I saw you. I did everything for you and you fucked it all up . . . again!”
I shook my head and spoke softly. “I’m so sorry, Bryce, but you have to go. This isn’t right. You’re not right.”
“But you’re mine!” he shouted, reeling forward a few steps.
“Don’t even think about it,” Sam warned as he obstructed Bryce’s path to me. I cowered behind him, and then Bryce launched into a ballistic state of rage.
He charged Sam’s car, yelling and cursing, repeating her name. Picking up a potted plant from the walkway, he lifted it over his head and smashed it into the windshield.
“Give me your phone. I’m calling the cops. He’s lost his fucking mind.”
I handed it to him as tears clouded the disturbing vision of Bryce demolishing the Audi.
Before Sam could complete the call to the precinct, Bryce had totaled the car only to drive off in his own, leaving me baffled and shaken to the core.
This was all my fault. I’d driven Bryce to the brink of insanity and it was all my doing.
AN HOUR LATER, after the cops had come and gone and I called the salon to tell them I needed a personal day, I sat across from Sam at his kitchen table in a surreal bubble of disbelief.
“This is not your fault. He’s clearly a psycho. You heard him.”
Of course I heard him. And I saw him, too. But this break in Bryce’s consciousness was because of me. Because I chose Sam, acted recklessly, and dismissed Bryce’s feelings as if he weren’t a human being with a beating heart.
“I feel so awful.”
“Awful? Fuck that. He got what he had coming to him. I think my fucking hand is broken and he wrecked my goddamn car. If I hadn’t come outside when I did, he would’ve hurt you and . . . we’re forgetting the key ingredient to this whole crazy train.” Sam dragged his chair closer to me and turned the laptop in my direction. “I knew something was up, but definitely not this. He’s a fucking stalker, London. Certifiably obsessed. And not even with you, babe. With her.”
The screen showed the Facebook page of a woman named Lauren Stark. At first it didn’t register, but then I remembered Bryce saying her name.
“Who is she?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes from the screen. The more I scrolled, the more I realized a very disturbing truth. “This girl could be my twin, Sam. She looks exactly like me.”
“Yes, she does. But you’re a million times more beautiful.” He winked at me, and then winced. The gash over his eye had stopped bleeding and a giant knot was forming, but he was still gorgeous as ever. “Looks like the frozen peas turned into pea soup. Time for the carrots.”
He shot up and headed for the freezer as I continued to search Lauren’s profile. “How do you know this is the Lauren he was talking about? Bryce isn’t even on her friend’s list.”
“While you were on the phone with work, I did my own stalking. That girl was tagged in one of Bryce’s older pictures. Some hospital gala thing with a big group of nurses and doctors. Since there was no other Lauren linked to his page or listed under his friends, I clicked on her and nearly shit myself when I got a closer look.”
“It’s freaking crazy, Sam.” I studied Lauren’s most recent profile photo, a wedding portrait. I could only make out her husband’s side profile. He was adoring his new bride, his nose nuzzled into her radiant cheek, but she stared back at me, head on. Eye to eye with this woman, I felt as if I were gazing into a mirror. The resemblance was uncanny, from the style of our hair, to the color of our eyes, to the shape of our noses.
“Go to the other browser window. I Googled both of their names. There’s an article that makes for lovely light reading.” Sam broke me of my daze.
I waved my head from side to side in sheer astonishment, clicking on the browser screen and revealing the article.
Five minutes later, we were that much closer to solving a very strange puzzle.
Bryce hadn’t lied about breaking someone’s jaw back in Oregon. That’d be Lauren’s now-husband, Shane. The story made the paper because a well-known and highly respected doctor—Bryce—had his license suspended after harassing a nurse—Lauren—at their place of business—Providence Hood River Memorial Hospital.
Of course, there was no way to tell what exactly transpired behind the scenes between Bryce, Lauren, and Shane, but it was obvious that the driving force was love. Or in Bryce’s case, obsession.
Part of the article was quoted from an interview with my look-alike. There was a mention of Bryce’s possessive and hostile behavior during the course of their two-year relationship. She explained that they ended things on decent terms, but that he became obsessive shortly afterward.
“He told people we were engaged and that I cheated on him with Shane. We had no plans to marry and I didn’t meet Shane until two months after Bryce and I broke up. He wouldn’t leave me alone. And one day he just . . . cracked. He showed up at my house and almost killed Shane. He was hospitalized for a month.”
“What a nightmare.” I sighed, still in shock. Bryce had shown a few signs of possessiveness, but it never occurred to me that he could be crazy.
“You still feel awful?” Sam asked.
“No, but I do feel sick.” I clutched my stomach, hoping to tame my insides.
Holding the frozen bag of veggies to his temple, Sam came up behind me and placed his free hand on my shoulder.
I reached up to hold it and released another long sigh. “We have to go to the hospital, Sam. I have to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere near my mother. I’ll talk to Doctor Bronson and see who we can get to take over her case.”
“Okay. Definitely. We’ll do it together. And London?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we should forget about Memphis and go ahead wi
th using my kidney. Not because of anything with Bryce or rejection rates, but because I know in my gut that it’s the right thing to do.”
“I think so, too.”
When we arrived at the hospital to see Mom, our intention was to keep as much of this from her as possible. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t want to stress her out, either.
Yesterday, we were in the home stretch and now it seemed we’d taken ten steps backward. Rearranging Mom’s healthcare plan and finding another doctor to lead the charge who was as qualified as Doctor Romanoff or Bryce meant more time wasted. But it was a necessary evil and there was no way around it.
Sam and I walked into Mom’s room with trepidation. Who knew what we’d find—maybe Bryce had already made his rounds and done something drastic. As a doctor, I imagined he’d keep to an oath of professionalism, but as a man with his disturbing background—all bets were off, weren’t they?
“What the hell happened to you?” my mother asked, gawking at Sam.
“I tried to kiss your daughter and she clocked me.”
Mom broke out in laughter and I merely shook my head. Leave it to Sam to find a way to make this day anything but the nightmare it started out as.
“Mom, we need to talk to you about something.” I moved closer to her bed. Sam followed behind, reaching out to hold my hand in his. He was a one-man support team. With him at my side I felt invincible.
My mother immediately noticed that our hands were joined. Her face brightened, the joy radiating off of her in droves. “Oh my God, you two! Finally!”
Her excitement was contagious, warming me from the inside out. I turned to look at Sam and we shared a knowing glance of gratitude. I hated that our happiness had to be overshadowed by everything else—Bryce’s breakdown, Mom’s health, my guilt. But I knew with every fiber of my being that this patient man beside me would see me through it all. And one day, one day very soon, we’d be together in every sense of the word.
“I got you,” he whispered so only I could hear.
I glanced over at him and my heart clenched. You are my forever, I thought as a soul-searing smile and eyes that held a promise of protection fed me the encouragement I needed.
Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1) Page 26