"Rory is the only victim here and you're the one falling for lies. How could you? You're her father! You're supposed to protect her!"
"Son-"
"I. Am. Not. Your. Son."
Mayor Forbes bristles uncomfortably. "I don't have time for this, I'm goin' to find the lead detective," he murmurs to my father who nods without taking his eyes off Sam. Mayor Forbes walks away, presumably to find Mora and work his magic, and I know it's only a matter of time before Robin is released and I'm the one being accused of God only knows what.
"You're makin' a big mistake," my dad warns Sam before returning his attention to me. "Aurora, you need to come with me right now and tell them Robin didn't assault you. You never understand the implications of your stories." He makes to go around Sam and reaches out to take my forearm so that I can do as he says.
But before I can even react, Sam shoves at my father's chest so that he stumbles back, away from me, but my father steps forward again, now red faced with fury.
"You have three seconds to get the hell outta my way, son!" My father threatens, poking Sam in his chest.
"I am not your fucking son, and Rory isn't yours either, and you have three seconds to back. The fuck. Off!" Sam growls back, and all I can do is look on in horror as Sam swats my father’s hand away from his chest, my father lifts his hand as if to strike, but not before Sam's fist decks him in the jaw at full force.
My father's head swings sideways and he wobbles for a split second before he becomes enraged all over again and grabs Sam by the shirt. I choke on my own breath and back away in horror, until I feel the wall behind me, halting my escape. I am trapped in a nightmare, watching Sam relive the worst experiences of his life - being struck and abused - only this time not by his father, but by my own.
But Sam is no little boy, and he wrenches free, pushing my father away, before Sam - obviously the stronger of the two - throws another forceful punch. The two grapple for what feels like forever before officers swarm them and pull them apart.
I can't breathe. An invisible steel band tightens around my chest, and as beads of sweat break out on my brow, I know it's only a matter of time. I hastily shove my hand into my bag, luckily finding my pills immediately, and I swallow one dry.
Numb. I need to feel numb.
The torrent of activity is a blur. Sam's arms are twisted behind his back as an officer slaps handcuffs on him. I'm vaguely aware of my father murmuring accusations while showing his palms in an offer of pacifism before straightening his tie. He is not handcuffed, but he is led off by a different officer nonetheless. But he takes a moment to look back over his shoulder and shoots me that glare. It is the same look he gave me the morning I told him about Robin. He is warning me, but though I can do nothing more than gape back at him, I will not heed his warning. Not this time. If Robin gets away with what he's done, it won't be because I was too weak to tell the truth.
Sam is taken away and I am left here, frozen and alone and it's a long time before I pull myself together enough to act.
My worst fears have all been realized. My father is here to save Robin, he hit Sam, and Sam is in trouble - in handcuffs, and could even be arrested for all I know.
All because of me.
Reality floods in, bitter and unforgiving, as if to taunt me for doubting it for even a moment. I am a selfish girl. I knew better.
But now I know, beyond a shadow of any doubt, what I have to do. And so I rally and begin to fix what I've broken.
****
My first call is to my mother. It is long and torturous and riddled with tears and anger, but she agrees to my request as I knew she would. In fact, if I hadn't asked, I'm pretty sure she would have insisted on it anyway.
My next call is to Carl. I need her and Tuck. I need them to help me figure out how to help Sam, but before they even arrive, Detective Mora informs me that an officer witnessed the altercation and neither party will be charged. I breathe a sigh of relief, but as I take in her pitying expression, I know what is coming.
"He's gonna get out, isn't he?" I ask softly. I know she knows I mean Robin.
She offers me a weak smile. "I hope not, Rory."
I know what that means. She believes me, like Sheriff Chipley did, but my dad and Mayor Forbes, they'd have gone over her head, above her pay grade. It is completely out of her hands.
Carl and Tuck rush into the precinct and make a beeline for me. Carl pulls me in for a hug before I meet her worried eyes. I tell Tuck that Sam is being released any minute and ask to talk to Carl in private. I need her help, too.
She doesn't approve of my plan, but she has no choice but to do what I ask. She won't change my mind, not after I had to witness Sam collide head-on with my past, and end up as collateral damage. No, I have finally found my clarity and am done being selfish. I love Sam, so fucking much, and I will not make the same mistake with him that I made with Cam. If I have to let him go to avoid losing him completely, then that's what I'll do.
Sam's expression is unreadable as he strides towards us from whatever unknown room he'd been led off to earlier. He does his handshake - half hug thing with Tuck and nods to Carl before his eyes lock with mine. He says nothing to me, but he doesn't break our gaze for a second, like he's trying to get some kind of read on me, or trying to tell me something, I don't know which.
"You good, man?" Tuck asks and Sam nods once. "Good, let's get the fuck outta here."
We all get into a cab, Tuck taking the front passenger seat and I am sandwiched between Sam and Carl. No one says anything, and I fix my gaze on my own lap and twist my fingers nervously. Sam stares straight ahead for the most part, but I can feel him casting me glances, like he's trying to feel me out.
Tuck does the same thing to Sam, intermittently glancing back as if to check if his friend is really okay. Sam's face inches closer to mine until he leans into my ear.
"I'm sorry," he breathes.
I shake my head, barely perceptibly, but I know Sam sees. He has nothing to be sorry for, and he certainly shouldn't be apologizing to me, but I don't know what to say - if there's anything I can say, that will make this easier. So I continue to say nothing at all.
Instead, I grant myself this cab ride to soak in his love, because I know it is all I have left. I scoot over the inch that separates us and cuddle against him, leaning my head onto his shoulder. I feel his entire body sag with relief, and feel such guilt that I know how short lived it will be. Sam slides his arm around my shoulder, pulling me more firmly to his side and kisses my hair, inhaling deeply, as if scenting me.
I close my eyes for a moment and try to suspend time. I vaguely notice Tuck watching us out of the corner of his eye, his brow furrowed as if trying to work out the depth of our connection when we have known each other barely a few months, and only just admitted to being something more than friends.
When we arrive at the hotel, Carl takes her cue to distract Tuck while I let Sam lead me up to his room. As I watch Sam walk through the kitchen area of his suite and start to down a bottle of water, I gather all the strength I have left in my broken self.
"Sam..."
He secures the cap on the water bottle and gives me his full attention. Vaguely I think we should sit down, but I'm too overcome with determined energy to do anything but nervously shift from foot to foot in the middle of the room.
"We need to talk," I begin.
"I'm so fucking sorry, Ror. I don't know what came over me. Your dad... I just saw red-"
"Sam, I don't wanna talk about my father, okay?" I cut him off. I can't bear to hear any more of his apologies, not when I'm the one who's to blame for everything that's gone wrong.
I watch his features shift as he detects that something is up with me - something more than being upset over his fight with my father, or over any of the other terrible events of the past twenty four hours. I see his concern, his fear, but I also see his determination - that he will fix it, that he can save me - and that is what I must overcome. Because he can't. I've k
nown this all along and yet at the same time I've finally just realized it.
"I can't do this," I force out.
"What do you mean?" Sam asks carefully.
I take a deep breath and then gesture between the two of us. "This. Us. I'm sorry, Sam. So sorry, but I- I just can't." I want to come up with something better, with some eloquent explanation. Some magic words to undo that past two days - to change us back into just friends, though in the back of my mind I fear that's never really what we were.
"You're serious?" Sam asks simply, his jaw tense and his brow furrowed in that gorgeous way that makes my heart break even more, not only for myself but for him.
"You said..." Just say it, Rory! "You said if I couldn't handle it, I could just tell you, and we would go back to bein' friends," I remind him shakily.
"I... I did say that," Sam agrees tentatively, as if he is reluctant to admit he even said it.
"Did you mean it?" I fight back tears, mustering all my strength, because there is nothing I could do in this moment that would be more selfish than to cry.
Sam hesitates, and I know him well enough to know he's holding back his own emotions, surely for my benefit.
"I... Yeah, of course I meant it, Ror," he replies, his voice cracking on my name and I suppress my wince at his pain.
Every instinct I have is telling me this is wrong. That we should be together. Every cell in my body hurts being even just a few feet away from him, every fiber of my being desperate to be back in his arms, to feel his lips on mine.
But this is not for me, I remind myself, this is for him.
"But I think you're wrong, Ror. You can handle more than you think. I..." he trails off defeatedly, vaguely shaking his head. I don't think he can bring himself to give me a pep talk about my strength after the past twenty four hours. Or maybe he's finally realized how weak I truly am. I snicker silently at the irony - that he may finally recognize my fragility when I'm finally actually exercising strength in letting him go.
"Look, I'm gonna go back to New York," I murmur.
Sam looks as if he's about to argue, and it's as if he wages our entire exchange internally. The one where he says I should stick it out, I argue that he should be on a beach having fun like a normal senior on spring break instead of babysitting me, he tells me I should be too, and I remind him that I'm not normal. Instead, he jumps to accepting my decision.
"Okay," he says, "I'll go with you."
I shake my head. "No way, Sam-"
"Yes, baby girl. You're not going alone, and whether you want to be with me or not, I'm still your best friend, or is that over too?" he asks, his tone mildly accusatory. His words startle me, because he does have a point, but no way am I going to allow him to forfeit the rest of his vacation when I've already ruined most of it for him.
"My mom can fly down," I murmur, trying to hide the lie, because my mother is already en route and I will meet her in just a few hours at the airport to fly home. Well not home, I'm not sure anywhere is home anymore, but back to the house I live in with my mom anyway.
"That's really not necessary, Ror. If I stay here I'm just going to worry about you. We can fly out together tomorrow, it's only a day or so early anyway," he argues.
I don't bother fighting him. "Let's just figure it out tomorrow, okay? I just want to take a shower and go to bed," I lie, hoping he hasn't yet figured out the significance of my lip biting. I need to pack and get to the airport. Carl will ride with me there and then come back to the hotel. Tuck will be at Sam's suite soon to do whatever it is boys do to get their mind off of girls, assuming Sam's mind would be on me.
"Okay," Sam mutters, but his eyes narrow in skepticism, and I question if he's buying my bullshit at all. I've never been a good liar. Even as a child, my parents could always detect if I was hiding something, and Sam knows me now better than anyone.
He walks cautiously toward me, and I don't back away. I let him hug me, sagging into his embrace, and tell myself it's just a friendly hug. Just a friendly inhale of his incredible masculine scent. A friendly awareness of the muscle and sinew of his arms and chest. A friendly wave of love and desire that threatens to overwhelm my senses.
I choke back tears, grateful that I can hide my face in his tee shirt while I pull myself together.
"You're not going to sleep here, are you." It doesn't come out like a question.
"I... I can't, Sam."
He pulls away enough to look down at me but doesn't release me. He caresses my cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing over my brow. "But what about your dreams?" His voice has dropped to a whisper.
"I have to get used to sleepin' alone again anyway," I murmur sadly, in awe that it has only been two nights when it feels like a lifetime. I swallow nervously and tell myself to do a better job disguising my tone. He's supposed to think this is what you want, I remind myself.
"Ror..."
Whatever he wants to say, I don't let get said. The wrong words, or the right ones, depending on how you look at it, could be my undoing.
I twist out of his embrace and mutter a forced goodbye, hoping he doesn't read too much into the fact that I said goodbye and not goodnight.
I walk through our adjoining doors, closing mine securely behind me.
It's less than thirty minutes before Carl knocks tentatively at my door and I let her in. I'm nearly finished packing by then. She reports that Tuck is next door, being there for Sam. Whatever that means for guys. I wonder if I'm being presumptuous in even thinking that he'd be upset and in need of support. Just because I am. Just because I'm fucking heartbroken. I have Carl, and then I'll have my mom. Otherwise I don't know how strong I'd be in seeing through this whole 'letting Sam go' thing.
My heart hurts. It does. I know it sounds trite, but it does, it hurts.
But it's not just my heart. There's this hollow feeling in my stomach. Like it's unsettled. Like something's not right and there's no way to make it right. Like hopelessness.
It's grief, I realize belatedly, and I feel guilty that I'm feeling even the smallest piece of what I felt when I lost Cam.
I'm not losing Sam, I remind myself, he just can't be mine anymore, and the whole point is so I don't lose him. It's a strange contradiction - giving him up to avoid losing him, and I'm feeling so confused by the juxtaposition of right and wrong. What I intelligently know to be right feels wrong and what I know to be wrong feels right.
Carl watches me warily while I finish packing and I try to remain numb. Every now and then I swipe at my cheeks to banish rogue tears, and if Carl notices, she doesn't mention it.
Finally I grab the hotel stationary from the writing desk and write Sam a note. I don't want him to worry when he wakes up and realizes I'm gone. Carl will tell Tuck I left once I'm on the plane and it's up to Tuck to tell Sam whenever he thinks it best.
I hear muffled voices talking in hushed tones coming from next door but don't bother trying to make out the conversation. It really is none of my business.
I rewrite the note no fewer than four times. In the end, I simply tell him that my mother flew in to retrieve me and that I didn't want to wake him to say goodbye. I thank him for everything he's done for me and for his support in dealing with Robin. And for saving my life. I tell him that he is still my best friend in the world and I love him for it. I beg him to try to enjoy what's left of his spring break. And I apologize.
Carl and I both startle when we hear a loud bang, like something being thrown against the wall, instantly followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. My eyes dart to Carl's and I second guess my decision for the hundredth time. Carl offers me a sympathetic smile.
"Anger issues," she shrugs, "he'll be fine."
"Yeah... yeah, you're right. Of course he will," I murmur.
But will I?
I slip the note half under our adjoining door, not wanting him to notice it until later, or preferably tomorrow morning.
"Come on," I urge Carl. "Let's get the hell out of here before I change my m
ind."
Carl stands and opens the door so I can roll out my luggage. "Maybe if you're so close to changing your mind about Cap it's because you're not sure you're doing the right thing..."
"Well I know the right thing for Sam isn't what he went through the past couple of days. Would you stay with Tuck if it meant he could end up hurt or arrested?" I ask her pointedly. "Or worse," I add more quietly, knowing she won't get the reference to Cam, but my words are more for myself than for Carl.
She doesn't answer me. She knows she couldn't possibly put herself in my shoes. She could never understand what it's like to wear my scars. To have to live with my choices, and their consequences. And Robin's perpetual shadow. To have no way of knowing when it might find me again, or what might happen the next time it does. But I have to do everything I can to get the target off of Sam's back, and to do that, I need to put enough distance between us so that he won't become collateral damage in the disaster that is my life.
I leave any remnants of Normal Rory behind - she was only ever an illusion anyway - and ride to the airport in a melancholic silence. Carl holds my hand, giving me a supportive squeeze every now and then.
My mom is waiting when we arrive at Miami International. She is disheveled and emotional and reminiscent of the version of her I remember from a year ago - from the aftermath - not the strong woman who in recent months had begun to heal along with me.
We say an emotional goodbye to Carl, and on the flight home, I tell my mother everything. Everything that happened - not only with Robin, but with Sam. She doesn't offer me advice, only love and support, while she tries with all she has to comfort my broken heart like only a mother could. I know she's in some semblance of shock, and I suspect it has more to do with Sam and me than what Robin did.
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