“Well, Sam, you've managed to reduce her to monosyllables. She's normally pretty loquacious.”
“I know,” he agreed, humor rising in his voice, reviving memories of the old, teasing Sam. “At least, that's true where we're concerned, Janie.”
The chef acknowledged the comment with a dip of her chin.
I guess that's true, Amy admitted to herself. It takes forever for me to feel at ease with anyone, but once I do, I can be pretty chatty.
“If you two are looking for a hangover cure, there's one in the fridge.” Janie gestured, her fingers glistening with chicken juice and buttermilk.
Amy made a face. “Actually, we're looking for breakfast. No hangovers here.”
“Ah, she speaks!” Janie laughed. “Okay, breakfast is in the oven. I made buttermilk pancakes, and there's some dulce de leche in the little pitcher, and pear compote on the stove. I would help you, but I have chicken hands, and I know you don't want that.”
“No worries,” Amy told her friend. She poured Sam and herself a cup of Janie's amazingly rich coffee and hurried to load up two plates with fluffy buttermilk pancakes. They had fallen a bit after resting so long in the oven, but had also gotten wonderfully crunchy around the edges. She ladled the cinnamon sugar pears over them and added a drizzle of the homemade caramel sauce. If this didn't entice Sam, nothing would.
“This smells amazing, Janie,” he told her.
“Try tasting it.” Amy encouraged, cutting a bite and pressing it to his lips. He let her tuck the forkful inside.
Sam nodded approvingly.
Janie is a very good cook after all, Amy thought, taking a bite of her own breakfast and closing her eyes. That's why Dusty paid her so well. She had attended the Culinary Institute of America, graduated with honors, and was well on her way to becoming head chef of a restaurant when this position had fallen into her lap. And she always seemed glad to have taken it.
And I've always wondered why. Cooking for a dozen farmhands is such a step down from what she could have been doing. Not that Amy was sorry. Janie had been one of the few constants in her life and she clung to that, the way she held onto anything and anyone that didn't seem to change. The ranch. Dusty. Maybe Sam too, someday. As she thought, Amy pressed a few more bites of breakfast into Sam, at which point he took over, letting her eat. Good. His free hand wrapped around her waist, and she leaned against him comfortably.
Sam eventually ate about half of his breakfast. Then he pressed a sticky kiss on Amy's lips and headed upstairs to shower and change.
Janie turned to her friend with her eyebrows raised. “Who are you and what have you done with Amy Owens?”
“Don't be ridiculous, Janie,” Amy retorted, bold when she was alone with her friend. “This is perfectly in character. Remember how long I've loved him.”
“Yeah, all night from the look of it,” Janie teased.
Amy blushed, tucking a messy strand of golden hair back from her face. “I've slept with him before. You know that.”
“You're not going to deny that it's different this time, are you?” Janie demanded. She placed the chicken and buttermilk in the refrigerator and began to prepare a bag of seasoned, crushed corn flakes. “Last time you came to me in tears, saying he didn't remember, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Now, he's acting like your boyfriend.”
Amy beamed. “He is my boyfriend. And he did remember.”
“Of course, he did,” Janie snorted. “Well, this is going to be good for him I have no doubt, but what about you?”
Amy frowned at her friend's pressing question. “How could it be bad?”
Janie dropped the rag she was using to wiping up the marble countertop and crossed to Amy, plunking down onto the roughly-hewn wooden table and taking her hand. “He's using you, Amy.”
“So?” Amy shrugged, dismissing Janie's comment as though it hadn't hurt her to hear it.
“So, he always uses you and then dumps you like yesterday's bad news once he's gotten whatever he was after,” Janie reminded her friend.
“I don't mind being used by Sam,” Amy admitted.
“You used to get so pissed at your mother when she'd say shit like that,” Janie huffed.
Amy looked down with mixed feelings. Seeing that Janie wasn't going to give up on the search for answers, Amy sighed deeply. “He's hurting. How can I not help him?” But her eyes skated away from her friend's intense gaze.
Janie smoothed away a strand of hair from Amy's forehead. “I'm not sure how much this helps. Shouldn't he get better before he takes on a serious relationship?”
Defensiveness flared. She has got to be joking. “I think it's good for him to have someone supportive in his life when he's facing troubled times.”
Janie gave Amy a leveled stare. “You're doing more than just being supportive, Amy.”
At Janie's calm tone, the fight went out of Amy, and she considered her friend's words. “I can't. I can't shut him out, not while he's hurting and not after waiting so long for him to invite me in.”
“I understand, but he needs counseling,” Janie said dryly.
Amy closed her eyes against a sudden sting. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“I do,” Amy reiterated firmly. Janie gave her an unconvinced look as she moved from the table to one of the chairs, causing Amy to snap defensively again, “I do!”
“Okay,” Janie replied, leaning back in her chair, still looking and sounding dubious.
“He's not ready, Janie,” Amy said in a much calmer voice. “I mean, did you see how little he ate?”
“Yes,” Janie agreed. “And that was with you pestering the life out of him about it.”
“I wasn't that bad,” Amy protested mildly.
“Well, it was a new one for me,” Janie chuckled. “I never thought I'd see anyone have to force feed my cooking down someone gullet, especially Sam's!”
Amy smiled at the memories as they rushed forward. “He used to have quite the appetite, didn't he?”
Janie nodded in agreement. “I reckon that's just one more sign that something's off with him.”
Amy nodded. “So I guess I'm just going to be here for him, help him in whatever way I can, until he's ready to move on.” Her lip quivered and she bit down on it, hard, to distract herself.
“You say 'move on' like you're expecting him to leave.”
Amy nodded slowly. “He needs to go to college now that he's about done with the military. I doubt he'll be here long.”
Janie shook her head. “And yet you're sleeping with him. God, you're a masochist, Amy. Do you actually like pain?”
Amy groaned. “No, I just love Sam.” And that's the honest truth. I love him and I'll do whatever it takes to make him happy.
“Your mom thought she loved all those slimeballs she hooked up with,” Janie reminded her. “Don't make the same mistakes she did; you're better than that.”
“Why does everyone keep bringing her up?” Amy pouted in annoyance.
“What?” Janie shook her head, obviously not understanding.
“Nothing.” Amy decided not to divulge her awkward conversation with Dusty.
Janie gave her a long, sour glare. “Look, let's change the subject,” Janie urged. “You're pissing me off.”
“Okay,” Amy conceded sadly. She didn't like to argue with anyone, particularly Janie.
The ladies lapsed into silence, allowing tensions to simmer down a bit before Amy asked, “how do I get him to eat?”
Janie quirked an eyebrow. “Looks like the only way is to feed him yourself. Maybe if you don't let up, he'll surrender… eventually.”
Puzzled, Amy quizzed her friend. “Feed him how?”
“Well, since you're so hell bent on getting hurt, I have some ideas about that. Let me work on something special for you to… tempt him with.” Janie's expression spoke of both contemplation and extreme naughtiness.
“It's not going to be something I'll regret is it?” Amy worried.
“No,” Janie reassured her friend. “But it will require some of this new found bravery of yours.”
Amy swallowed hard in alarm.
Chapter 5
Leaving Janie and Amy to gossip, Sam made his way upstairs to his suite. Walking into his spacious bathroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, unbuckled his pants and kicked them to the floor. Sam started the shower running to warm the water as he tossed his clothes into the hamper and then relieved his bladder.
Stepping into the expansive walk-in enclosure, Sam stood for a moment, enjoying the hot water as it cascaded over his body. Running his hands over his face and head, he tossed water away from his body in vain. The splashing sounds brought memories to the surface about the world he'd left behind him.
The sounds transported him to the camp shower he'd used in the heat of Afghanistan. The water seemed to never get cool enough in the desert sun, despite the showers being set up in the makeshift tents. Sam didn't think he'd ever forget how the water sounded when it hit the canvas walls or how rapidly it dried when it did. He'd had to move quickly because each soldier was only allotted so much time to tend to their personal hygiene, water being a valued commodity.
As Sam began to scrub shampoo into his hair and then soap his muscular body, he was no longer in the luxurious confines of his modern bath. His mind's eye saw the large hose that pumped the water into the pipes that feed the nozzles which dispensed the water spray. He could smell the dry earth as it greedily drank the excess liquid that passed through the floor pallets, filling the shower tent with its parched scent.
BAM!
Sam quickly dropped to his knees, crouching under the shower head, waiting for the next explosion to detonate. His breathing quickened as his mind raced. He could hear the people rushing about outside of the latrine and he strained to hear what they were saying.
“Sam! Sam,” the voice called.
“I'm here!” Sam hollered back from his hunched position.
“Sam,” the voice sounded closer and more urgent this time. “Sam!”
A hand touched his shoulder and instinctively, Sam grabbed the owner of the extended hand by the wrist and twisted.
“Sam,” the voice protested fearfully, “Stop! It's me! It's me!”
The vivid memory that clouded Sam's mind began to clear as the familiar voice penetrated his brain, calling him back to the present. Sam looked at his hostage in confusion, trying to comprehend how he had returned home in the blink of an eye. Understanding dawned and he realized it was Amy he had pinned to the shower wall with her arm twisted up behind her back. He immediately released her. He held his hands up in surrender and stepped away, moving back into the warm spray.
Amy turned around, rubbing her wrist and looking at him, shocked. Sam shuddered and regarded Amy apologetically. He felt stunned, but as his awareness sharpened, his guilt increased.
“Amy,” he said a little shaky. “I'm sorry. I… I don't know what happened.”
Amy's lower lip quivered as she tried to hold back her tears. “It's okay,” she insisted.
“It's not,” Sam told her as he tentatively took a step forward.
“No, no really, it is,” Amy declared, holding her uninjured hand in a halting gesture. “I shouldn't have surprised you like that. I'm sorry. I just, well, I saw you crouching and I thought… I was just worried something was wrong, that's all.”
“Amy,” Sam agonized, hearing the strain in her voice. “No, don't, please.”
Amy looked down, trying to hide her tears.
“Did I,” Sam asked nervously. “Did I hurt you? Here, let me see.”
Amy held her wrist out to Sam, who examined it for damage. His medical field training equipped him to evaluate her condition. Thankfully, nothing was broken, but he could already see the bruise that was forming.
“See,” Amy told him again, avoiding eye contact. “I'm fine.”
“Baby,” Sam groaned, “I don't know what happened. I thought – well, it doesn't matter. Here, let me make this up to you.”
“How?”
“Well, for starters, let me take these wet clothes off of you.”
Amy nodded, but he could see she was fighting tears, and every time he moved her arm, she winced. What the hell, asshole. How could you hurt your girl? Take it easy, Sam. Easy and gentle. Amy's fragile. Treat her like a lady.
Once Sam had gotten all of Amy's clothes off, he pulled her into his arms. They stood in a tender embrace as the warm water pattered against their naked bodies. Sam could feel the tension all through Amy's small frame and he hated himself for losing his senses.
“Amy,” he said softly. “Amy, please look at me.”
Amy hesitantly complied, and the fear he saw in her expression devastated him. His apology had been sincere, and he truly had no idea what had happened. And that scares you most, doesn't it, Wallace? You don't even know what happened. Her expression held no blame. She knew he hadn't acted in malice, but it didn't matter. “I never want to hurt you,” he said earnestly.
“I know,” Amy reassured him. “It's okay.”
“It's not, but whatever,” Sam decided it wasn't worth arguing over. He already felt bad enough and he didn't want to create more tension. “Can I… ah, can I try something?”
Amy gave him a look of uncertainty. “What is it?”
Sam gave her a sheepish grin, shrugging nervously. “It's something a guy in Afghanistan told me about once.”
“What guy?”
“Jorge – doesn't matter. The point is that he said it was a way he and his wife built intimacy in their relationship.” Sam looked away, worried Amy would think he was stupid.
“What?” Amy asked curiously, pulling Sam's face back to her with her good hand, forcing him to make eye contact.
“Can I shampoo your hair for you?” Sam asked quietly.
Amy blinked as she considered the request. “You want to… build intimacy?”
Sam gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. “I want to wash your hair for you.”
He waited for Amy to grant her permission. When she simply nodded, he proceeded to lather her hair with a tender touch. As he bathed Amy, both of them calmed and the moment of terror passed. Sam ran his hands along Amy's slim body, washing away the stress along with the soap he'd lovingly applied, careful of her tender wrist.
After the shower, as Amy sat in Sam's bedroom brushing the tangles from her hair. He silently dried and dressed himself. He had already called down to ask Janie if she'd be kind enough to collect fresh clothes for Amy. Of course, a baffled Janie agreed and it wasn't long before the knock sounded at the door to alert them of her arrival.
Sam knew Amy hadn't missed his humiliating reaction; the way he jumped when the knock sounded on the bedroom door. Turning to greet her friend, he saw Janie's eyes scanning back and forth from Sam to Amy, suspicion blatant in her expression. Guess she can sense the tension.
She handed Sam a bundle of fabric, saying, “Everything okay with you two?”
“Just fine,” Amy replied, rising and crossing her arms over her chest. This was her habitual pose and Janie appeared not to notice she was hiding her bruised wrist under the opposite hand.
* * *
Janie left them, returning to the kitchen with a troubling sense of apprehension. She was more than certain Amy was biting off more than she could chew, but she had no idea how to guide her friend in this sensitive situation.
The reality was that Sam and Amy were both consenting adults and had a right to their privacy. Still, Janie had a special interest in their relationship, being the best friend of one and having helped to raise them both. The problem was, Sam hadn't confided in Janie and she knew he wouldn't appreciate her butting into his personal matters. And Amy… well Amy had already made her stance clear. She intended to see this through, giving Sam whatever he asked for or whatever she felt he needed, regardless of the cost to her.
Janie loved them both; she always had and always would, but love wasn't always enough. She knew
Sam and Amy loved each other, but that didn't change matters in the end. Though she had hoped the two young people would have matured beyond their dysfunctional dynamics by now, but it was painfully obvious they hadn't. Acknowledging that made Janie question what possible outcome this collision course would lead to. It won't be pretty.
* * *
When Amy had finished pulling on the yellow cotton sundress Janie had brought, Sam walked up to her. She was looking into the long dressing mirror, watching him. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder the way he liked to do, regarding her through her reflection.
“I'm sorry,” he said again.
“I know,” she smiled without the expression reaching her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said truthfully. “Not yet, but one day I will.”
Amy turned to look at him. “Okay, but you don't have shut me out. I'm here for you.”
Sam kissed the corner of her mouth, then embraced her tightly. “I know. Thank you.”
* * *
At five o'clock, Amy and Sam headed to the sports bar. Amy hadn't been wrong to be concerned about the noise. It was pretty intense, but with her little hand tucked into his, it didn't assault him quite so badly. He looked her up and down, thinking how sweet she was, and felt a twinge of guilt over the last night and the morning.
Knowing Amy had enjoyed herself helped him to reconcile his feelings. It had been amazing sex, satisfying and sensual. Still, she was a good girl, and he knew their coupling had meant so much more than simply a sexual release. And if he were being honest, he knew that the reason it had been so good was because it meant more to him as well. He wasn't willing to name what he felt or to quantify what he knew existed between them, but it was time to let go of the guilt.
Amy is my girlfriend. We're sleeping together. That was normal, and though he couldn't do it today, someday he would give her all the love she deserved. Lucky for me she isn't pushy and she forgives my failings. God knows I have a lot of them, he thought to himself bitterly.
The last day with Amy proved he wasn't ready. Whatever it was that had happened in the shower was precisely why he had to wait. He had to rid himself of his demons before he could commit himself to her. She deserved the best man in the world, and he had a long way to go before he even came close to 'almost' let alone 'best.' But even knowing that, you're still not going to let her go; you'll risk her for your own sake. Asshole.
Saving Sam (The Wounded Warriors Book 1) Page 5