by H. Lane
Epilogue
* * * Three Months Later * * *
Jason sat on the easy chair in his apartment, hunched over with his hands supporting his forehead. He knew he shouldn’t be nervous – he’d done this kind of thing for years, after all – but the context was completely different. Brief meetings and failed experiments had done nothing to help or build up confidence in himself.
Insistent knocking on his door roused him. Rising, Jason walked toward it and pulled it open. Sam stood before him in jeans and a tight black t-shirt, a bandage wrapped around her right bicep and a smile on her face.
“Hey,” she said.
Jason gulped. “Hey.”
Sam stood for a moment before moving her neck to look behind him. “So is your apartment just for show or can I come in?”
“Uh, right.” Jason stepped aside. “Come in.”
She smiled and stepped through, kicking her shoes off as she scanned his apartment. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
Jason shrugged and closed the door behind her. “It’s pretty small. The neighbors get on my nerves, and the wi-fi is kind of shit. If you want to go somewhere else—“
“It’s fine,” Sam said, rubbing his shoulder. “Just like you.”
His throat contracted as he swallowed a lump. “Thanks. I couldn’t afford much better, but once word starts getting around about me at the shop, I should be able to get a better place.”
“Especially once I’m able to show off your latest and greatest work of art.” Sam raised her bandaged bicep. “How about we get it off?”
“Sounds good.”
Jason and Sam sat down on the couch. He took care in unwinding her bandage, trying not to let his shaking fingers interfere. Having Sam in his apartment was a bold new step for him; he’d always been somewhat private, and letting her in now that they were trying to make their relationship work put new strain onto him. The fear of making a mistake and lashing out was constant – he didn’t know if anyone else would be worth the trouble.
But she definitely is.
Sam grinned once Jason completely removed the bandage. “Beautiful.”
The tattoo he’d given her yesterday glistened beneath the afternoon sun. A violin, it was surrounded by vines which were festooned with notes. Jason was grateful that she’d made a relatively simple request – the normal worries he’d had over making a mistake were infinitely larger working with her. But like Sam, it had been worthwhile.
Jason took out skin cream and began to rub it into her tattoo. “So what now?”
“Dunno,” Sam replied. “Oh! How about we go to meet your parents? That’s what you’re supposed to do in these kinds of things, right?”
“I think we’ve got that covered,” Jason said, chuckling.
“Guess you’re right. Although we still need to tell them about what we’re doing.”
Jason gave a heavy nod. They’d been circumspect in their budding relationship, but keeping it secret from everyone else was taking its toll on them both. He and Sam had decided to “come out” to their parents first, and soon. If they couldn’t face the scrutiny over what they were doing, then being in a relationship would be untenable.
Sam took his chin in her small but strong fingers and lifted his head up. “Hey, no pessimism, ‘k?”
“What makes you think I’m being pessimistic?”
“The look on your face,” Sam replied. “You’re pretty open nowadays.”
Jason raised a hand to his face; it was more expressive than ever. “Guess I am.”
“You want to make us work, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Jason said. “I just…” He shook his head. “I’m just worried that I’ll screw it up somehow.”
“You’re getting help. You’ve talked to Mom about it, and you like your new therapist, right?”
“Yeah, but—“
“No ‘buts’ allowed,” Sam said. She turned to jut her rear against his thigh. “Except mine.”
Jason chuckled and put his arm around her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Sam pressed her elbow into his ribs. “You’d better.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But seriously. You’re doing the best you can and don’t want to fail. If anything happens to us – and nothing will – it won’t be because of you.”
Jason sighed. “Alright.”
“Hey,” Sam said, narrowing her eyes. “Put a little more spirit into that. Believe in us, or at believe me that believes in it, OK?”
“I believe in us,” Jason said, firmly. “And that we’ll get through whatever comes between us.”
Sam kissed his other cheek. “It’s good to hear you say that. And agree with me.”
“You wouldn’t be a woman if you didn’t love getting your way.”
Jason winced when she slapped his arm, but found that despite his earlier doubts, he believed what he’d spoken. Or at least he believed in Sam, who believed in him. And no matter what the tautology it felt good, or at least better than doubting their future. Regardless, it was enough for now.
I love you, Sam. Always.
Acknowledgements
Heather Hart and Kate for the monumental task of editing my story. I value both as editors and writers, but more importantly, as friends.
Ann-Katrin Byrde for encouraging me to write this story and to self-publish (so if you hate my book you can blame her for its inception).
To Anya J. Phoenix for being a close friend and donating the cover. She’s easily my superior in terms of writing, so I recommend looking at her books for warm and oftentimes tearful reads.
About The Author
H.S. Lane is the pseudonym for an boring cubicle drone who dreams and plots to get away from his somewhat dreary life. He lives in Minnesota with his dog, who is far more alpha than any hero he could ever write.