by Diana Gardin
She just needed to show him that his value was inside of him, and it was visible to everyone he met.
He was worthy. It wouldn’t be easy to make him see it. First, she needed to make him see her. Then she could focus on proving to him that his life could be wherever she was.
Eighteen
Sam tossed the football across the thick green lawn of the south pasture on the Hopewell property. Reed caught it and tossed it back with a whump in Sam’s capable hands.
“You gonna take it?” Reed called.
Sam threw again, a perfect spiral in a graceful arc. Reed caught it in a running jump.
“Tell me again why you never played football,” Sam yelled.
“Do you see this face?” Reed asked.
Sam laughed and grunted as he caught Reed’s bullet of a pass.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Reed reminded him. “Are you going to take the offer my dad made you a few days ago?”
Sam sighed and held the ball in his arms, staring down at the white laces. Reed walked over to him and sat down in the grass, grabbing a stray piece of straw and chewing on it.
Sam plopped down next to him. “I don’t know.”
“What’s not to know?”
“I…I don’t know if I’m going to be able to fill out paperwork for that.”
“What? That’s the craziest reason I’ve ever heard. Not what I expected. Why the hell wouldn’t you be able to fill out paperwork?”
Sam didn’t look up at him, just kept gazing down at the ball, the grass, anywhere else.
“Sam? Is this about the trouble you got into back home?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, man. It’s big. I don’t think I can enroll in school in a couple of months. It won’t be worked out by then.”
“Let my dad help you. Whatever you did—and I hate that you won’t tell us—it has to be fixable,” Reed said. “Power and money can go a long way.”
“Maybe,” Sam answered absently. “What are you going to do this fall, Reed? I haven’t heard you talk about college. Are you going off somewhere?”
Reed fidgeted, scratching his head and staring off into the distance. “I’ve been accepted to a few places,” he finally answered.
“Okay,” Sam said slowly. “Which one did you decide on?”
Reed blew a breath out that lifted his dark hair in the front. His hair was the exact same shade as Aston’s, the tips sun-bleached.
“My mind isn’t on college right now,” he admitted.
“Why not?”
“Because there’s other stuff I want to try first.”
“Like what?”
“Like music.”
“Really? I’ve never even heard you play. Or sing.”
“Let’s just say that in my family, academics are the fucking universe. A career in music wouldn’t sit well with them. Well…maybe my mom would understand. But her opinion isn’t worth much.”
“Does Aston know?” Sam asked.
Reed shook his head slowly. “She knows I can play the guitar, and that I love to sing and write songs. But she and my parents just see it as a hobby. She wouldn’t get it…as hard as she’s worked at school and being smart her whole life. She wouldn’t have a clue.”
“I disagree,” Sam argued. “Aston loves you. If you told her about this, she’d have your back.”
Reed aimed a pointed gaze directly at Sam. “Then why haven’t you opened up to her?”
Sam opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. He didn’t have an answer for Reed, because he didn’t know himself why he couldn’t open himself up to her.
Ever had hurt him. No, she’d taken his heart out of his chest and squeezed until mere ashes fell from her fingers. But Aston wasn’t Ever.
Somehow, he still couldn’t seem to trust her enough to open his heart again so soon, so fully. Because Aston Hopewell deserved nothing less than all of him. And he just wasn’t sure if he was ready to give it to her. If he would ever be ready.
When Sam didn’t respond, Reed continued, “Everyone on the island’s heard about her and Princeton’s breakup by now. If you want a chance with her, I wouldn’t wait too long.”
The following week, he headed to the office bright and early. He bustled around the room following the day’s to-do list while he waited for Aston to return from an errand she’d run to the main office building across the bridge. Her ankle had healed nicely during her week of rest, and now her limp was barely noticeable.
Sam sat down in the office chair, ready to type up a report on an energy source acquisition on which Hopewell Enterprises was currently embarking. The French doors opened and a man who looked vaguely familiar strode inside.
“Can I help you?” Sam stood, coming halfway around the desk.
“Yeah, I’m Brett Nash. I think I met you a couple of times at Sunny’s. I’m here to see Aston.”
Sam leaned a hip against the desk, studying Brett. He did remember him from Sunny’s; that was why he’d looked familiar. Brett was about his age, with long blond hair tied in a ponytail. He dressed like many of the other guys on N.I: polo shirt and khakis, with brown leather flip-flops.
Sam frowned. “What about?”
“Uh,” Brett stammered. “Is she here?”
“Nope,” Sam answered. “Guess you’ll just have to deal with me. Is it work-related?”
The half-smile that turned up Brett’s lips caused Sam’s stomach to clench. “Definitely not work-related. I can wait for her outside if you think she’ll be back soon?”
Sam heard the heavy oak front door open and shut, and Aston appeared in the doorway.
“Brett?” The pleasant rise in her voice aimed at Brett was like a punch to Sam’s gut. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, gorgeous,” Brett said.
Sam’s fists clenched under the desk, and hot fire rushed to his face. He’d called her gorgeous. The desire to smash Brett’s face in and drag Aston off to the tack house was overwhelming. He turned his back, walking around the desk to sit in front of the computer. He clenched his muscles, willing himself to stay firmly planted in the chair.
“I wanted to know if you wanted to take the day off, and join me at the beach.” Brett’s one-hundred-watt smile matched his white-blond hair and his bright white polo.
“Uh,” Aston stammered. “We’re actually working on something here today that needs my immediate attention.”
She stole a glance at Sam, which he didn’t return. Her eyes narrowed and she looked back at Brett.
“You know what? Sam will be just fine on his own here. You can just wait by the door while I go upstairs and put on my suit. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” answered Brett. Sam pictured him rubbing his hands together with anticipation at seeing Aston in her bikini. His stomach lurched.
“Be down in just a sec,” Aston promised before limping out of the room. Her light footsteps echoed on the hardwood staircase. He imagined her trajectory: down the hall, turn right into her bedroom, shoot left to the walk-in-closet…
A soft click met his ears, and he looked up to see Brett standing just beyond the now-closed French doors. Sam guessed Brett supposed his conversation with Sam wasn’t worth a proper closing.
He watched, through his eyelashes, as Aston came back down the stairs. When she arrived on the third step from the bottom, where she was clearly visible from the office, he jerked to a standing position, as if a puppet master had yanked his strings.
He cleared his throat loudly, and Aston glanced in his direction. There was so much he wanted to say. To ask her. Like why her cover-up was so short and sheer. Like why the bright red bikini she donned underneath was so tiny.
He needed to get himself together. If he came around the desk, Aston would see very clearly how badly he wanted her to stay with him rather than going to the beach with Brett. Instead, he raised a hand in a wave.
She nodded at him dismissively, and with a bang of the front door, she and Brett were gone. Sam now had the entire d
ay to brood about what they may or may not be doing together on their date in the sun and surf.
He was still grimacing later as he pulled up to Sunny’s on his bike and took off his helmet. He scanned the parking lot, seeking out Aston’s car as he told himself he was making sure Reed was already inside.
Aston’s car was missing, and he sighed as he headed inside. His boots crunched on the gravel as he plodded across the lot and opened the large wooden door of the bar. He was an hour later than the rest of his friends. He’d actually been debating whether he’d come out tonight at all. He wasn’t really in the mood for Reed’s ever-present addiction to women, and Tate’s inevitable stupor after chasing five shots of tequila with salt and a lime.
He was surprised to find his friends all out on the dance floor. Sam stopped at the bar to ask Kelly for a shot and a beer as he leaned his back against it to watch everyone letting loose to the music of a Zac Brown cover band.
Reed spotted him and whispered into the redhead’s ear that was shimmying against his groin. He jogged over to Sam, weaving around a couple sucking the life out of each other’s faces. With a grin, Sam realized it was Tamara and a guy he’d never met.
“What’s up, buddy?” Reed asked, his speech slightly slurred. “Thought you might have bailed on us tonight.”
“Thought about it,” Sam answered as Kelly slid his Cuervo across the bar. “Thought about it real hard.”
“What’s up?” Reed asked, furrowing his thick brows as he scrutinized Sam’s frown. “You stressed about something? Wouldn’t be my sister, would it?”
Reed’s knowing grin and the gleam in his eye irritated Sam tonight. He didn’t want to talk about Aston. He chased his Cuervo with a long swallow of Michelob.
“Not in the mood,” he replied.
“Whatever, dude,” Reed said. “Grab a girl and get out here. That long fucking face is gonna get old fast.”
He sauntered off, back toward the waiting redhead, and took his place behind her as she resumed dancing.
Sam shook his head and held up a finger to Kelly, indicating one more shot. And as he downed it, Aston walked in with Brett.
Sam rolled his eyes and groaned, leaning over the bar. Kelly noticed and came over, wiping her hands on a stained rag.
“You want somethin’ else darlin’?” she yelled over the thumping music.
Sam shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“Uh-huh,” Kelly said, swinging her blond hair over her shoulder. “Ain’t nothing in here you can’t have, Sam Waters.”
She winked at him and moved to the other side of the bar, where two coeds were singing along to “Toes.”
Sam turned, beer in hand, and headed to the quieter, more remote area of the bar. He wanted to be as far away as possible from the dance floor when Aston hit it with her date. But something kept him hovering around the pool table, where he still had a view of the dancers.
“Waters!” Blaze’s booming voice echoed against the glasses behind the bar as he pulled out a stool and sat next to Sam’s place at the bar. He indicated to Kelly that he wanted a beer, and then turned to survey the dance floor. Aston and Brett now had drinks, and were making their way to the dance floor.
Sam focused on Blaze. “What’s up, man?”
“Not a damn thing. What’s up with you? Why does your face look like you wanna murder someone?”
Sam couldn’t run from the question anymore. “Because Aston went out with Brett today, and now they’re here together. So, yeah. I wanna smash his face in. Just a little bit, though.”
Blaze roared with laughter. “At least you’re finally honest. I don’t get something, though.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a pretty straightforward dude. You want her? Why not tell her?”
“And say what?” asked Sam, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to date other guys, but I’m too much of a fuckup to date you myself?”
Blaze shook his head. “There’s a lot of fuckups in here, and you ain’t one. Hunter and Ever? Not your fault. What’s the real reason you aren’t with Aston?”
“Blaze,” Sam said, his brow furrowing as he remembered the hurt he’d felt when he caught Hunter and Ever kissing. “Ever really messed me up. I gave everything to that girl. That’s all I got. Aston deserves more than I can give. She’s...she’s everything. I’m not the one for her.”
“Okay, Sam. Let me ask you this. Did you feel like shit after you found out about Ever and Hunter?”
“Like complete shit, dude. What do you think? I’ve never been that pissed. Except when her father hurt her. I never thought my brother would screw me over like that. I thought she and I were it, and that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. I had prepared for that. Then it just ended. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do now.”
“But you’re not spending your nights crying over her? You’re not thinking about how you’re going to get her back from your brother?”
“Hell, no. It’s over.”
“Then she wasn’t it for you.” Blaze sat back, interlocking his fingers over his massive chest, flashing a serene smile like he’d just morphed into Yoda.
“What?”
Blaze leaned forward. “If you really thought in your heart that Ever was the girl you wanted forever with, you’d fight. And you’re not doing that. So she ain’t it. And if you’re wondering how you’re going to fill your time from now on…” His eyes glossed over the dance floor until they landed on Aston.
Sam’s eyes followed, and when they found Aston, his heart thumped wildly. She was dancing with Brett, a little too close for his liking. She was swaying to the beat while his arms pulled her up against his front. Sam’s anger hit a fever pitch at the sight of Brett’s hands on her. He was a nice guy, always had been.
But every nice guy had a limit.
“You’re right, Blaze,” Sam said. “Fuck, you’re right. I didn’t see it before. What the hell am I going to do?”
“Well, first, you might wanna go get Brett off of your girl.”
Sam moved then, without another thought or another word to Blaze. He wound his way across the floor, squeezing around dancing bodies until he was standing right in front of Aston.
Her eyes widened. Her arms, which had been snaking up around Brett’s neck, dropped to her sides. “Sam? What’s wrong?”
He leaned in so she could hear him over the music. “What’s wrong is that you’re dancing with him and not me.”
A shadowy mixture of emotion crossed her face. She stared at Sam. “Go away, Sam.”
Sam watched her for a moment, and then turned to Brett. “Excuse us.”
Brett looked unsure. “I don’t think—”
Sam stopped him with one look. He towered over Brett, really. And Brett didn’t know that Sam wasn’t a violent guy. Brett’s face changed, and he stepped away from Aston. “I’m going to go sit down, Aston. Catch up with you later.”
Sam didn’t give him a second look as his eyes locked with hers. “Dance with me. Your partner left the floor.”
Aston shook her head, her lips parting to speak. But she closed her mouth quickly when Sam’s hands pressed into her hips, moving them along to the beat of the music the band was playing. His hands slipped just beneath her top, and settled onto her hot, bare skin. He sighed, remembering how all the softness of that skin felt underneath his hands the night of her pool accident.
“I’m…surprised you did that,” she said, meeting his gaze with her steady one.
“Tell me how surprised you are later. Right now I just want to feel you against me,” he whispered into her ear.
She shuddered in his arms, and his hands ran up her sides. As his thumbs settled into the soft crease beneath her breasts she sighed and closed her eyes.
“I really don’t like this outfit,” said Sam. “It shows too much skin.”
He leaned down and placed his lips against her shoulder, brushing them across her skin.<
br />
She opened her ice-blue eyes and locked on his. “I thought you liked my skin.”
“I love your skin,” he growled, pressing his lips to the other shoulder. “That’s the problem. I don’t like everyone else seeing it, too.”
“That’s very possessive of you, Sam,” she said, letting her head drop back. “You don’t own me.”
Sam placed his hands on her shoulders and then ran them down her arms. “No, I don’t. But I’m scared that you might own me, Princess.”
Her head snapped up and she studied him. “What are you saying, Sam?”
The song ended and Sam stepped back from Aston, taking her hands with him.
“I don’t know what I’m saying. All I know is seeing you with him today made my blood boil. It also made me go crazy back at home, worrying about where he was touching you and whether he was making you laugh. I want to do those things.”
She glanced down at their hands, and then back up at his face. “So what’s stopping you?”
The rest of the dancers on the floor melted away as Sam stared into her eyes. He wasn’t ready to tell her what she needed to hear. But he needed her to know something.
“I don’t know if I can open my heart again so soon. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met. I’m just a country boy from Duck Creek, Virginia. Eventually, you’ll figure out the same thing Ever did: I’m no good for you. And it’s gonna hurt like hell. I’m just trying to avoid having my heart ripped out.”
He dropped her hands and walked away from her, leaving her standing in the middle of the dance floor all alone.
Nineteen
Four Months Ago in Duck Creek, Virginia
Here, Mom,” Sam said.
He handed his mother a wad of cash he’d earned working at the garage in town. He handed over most of the money he earned to his mother for bills and food. He kept a small amount from each paycheck for himself, which went directly into his savings account. He’d saved up quite a bit by this point, considering he’d been working since the age of twelve.
“It’s about damn time,” his mother snapped. “Is this all you’ve got?”