Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1)

by Abigail Drake

  “You did it.”

  He laughed at the surprise in my voice and kissed my nose. “We did it. Together.”

  He began to move. Slowly at first. Then with long, sweeping thrusts. I grabbed his bottom, holding it tight, my face hidden in the curve of his neck. I’d never felt anything like this before. So completely and totally in tune with another person. He filled every inch of me, both physically and emotionally. Making me whole. Bringing me back to life.

  We came as one. I screamed just as Thomas called out my name. Perfect unison.

  Afterward, he rolled onto his side, pulling me into his arms as our breathing returned to normal and our heart rates slowed. Thomas stared up at the mirrored ceiling, his expression shocked. I hadn’t even noticed the ceiling. I’d been too preoccupied with Thomas.

  “Holy shit.” The way he said it sounded like shite making me giggle.

  He cupped my face with his hand, his expression bewildered. “Holy shit.”

  “What are you trying to say, Thomas? A few minutes ago, you were spouting Latin. Now this is all you’ve got?” I couldn’t help but giggle.

  “Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “That was…”

  It was rare to see Thomas MacGregor at a loss for words, but there were only two he seemed capable of managing at the moment. “Holy shit,” he said again.

  I kissed his shoulder. “I guess that means you enjoyed it.”

  He looked at me in shock. “Enjoyed it? Enjoyed it? Dear me, I never knew it could be like that. I had no idea. God, Sam. I love you. I said it before we had sex, and I’ll say it again just to let you know it wasn’t my dokey talking.”

  I reached out and stroked him between his legs, gently cupping his testicles. He inhaled sharply, already partially erect again. “Your dokey can talk?” I asked. “What does it say?”

  “It says, ‘More Sam. Now.’ And I think it means business,” he said roughly, pulling me on top of him.

  This time I took control, lifting my body up and lowering myself on top of him, causing both of us to groan. We went slowly, enjoying each sensation. He ran his rough hands over my stomach, fascinated by the curve of my hips. By the shape and weight of my breasts. His eyes locked on mine.

  I leaned forward and kissed him. Gently. Sweetly. He ran his hands down my back, grasping my bottom, increasing my rhythm until we both cried out once again.

  Afterward, I stayed on top of him as he stroked my hair, murmuring soft meaningless things in my ear. I sighed. This was one moment of complete and utter contentment I could never share with Mr. Ando.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After we bathed in the giant tub, feeling sleepy and well loved, we dressed and walked slowly home. Thomas held me close, kissing the top of my head.

  “Thanks for the chocolates, Sam,” he said, “And the sex. Of course.”

  I laughed. “My pleasure. Thank you for the necklace and the dictionary.”

  “It seemed appropriate. You aren’t a little thistle anymore, though. You’re much nicer now. Like a soft bit of heather. In fact, your thighs…”

  I elbowed him hard in his ribs. “You can stop now.”

  When we reached my door, he laced his fingers with mine. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want tonight to end.”

  “It has to,” I said, going up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “So we can have tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that…”

  As the rest of my words were cut off by his lips, I realized I’d just made a promise to him. One I hoped I could keep.

  I dreamed of Thomas that night. Of his clever hands and his sweet lips. I still felt like I floated on a cloud when I woke up. Hana took one look and gave me a very knowing smile.

  “It looks like someone had a very happy Valentine’s Day.”

  I gave her a fake punch in the shoulder just as the doorbell sounded. Hana opened the door, her face confused. Outside stood Hiro, right next to Dr. Brown.

  Hiro stared at Hana, probably hoping she didn’t say anything by accident to hint at the nature of their relationship to Dr. Brown. He seemed very formal and serious. “Hello, ladies. Sorry for the interruption. We’re here to speak with Sam.”

  I grabbed my robe and threw it over my shoulders. “Am I in trouble?”

  For a moment, I thought they’d heard about our visit to the love hotel, although we certainly couldn’t be punished for something like that. Dr. Brown stepped out of his shoes and walked into our room. Our futons still lay on the floor, our sheets in a disheveled pile. Hana quickly tidied things up as I stood there staring.

  “What’s going on?”

  Dr. Brown cleared his throat. “You need to call your mother. I’m afraid she has some bad news.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand. “Is it my grandma? Oh, my God.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “Just call your mom. Do you have your phone or do you need mine?”

  I dug through my purse with trembling hands. When I pulled it out, I realized the battery was low, but I called her anyway. She answered on the first ring.

  “Sam?”

  “Mom. What’s going on?”

  “Is Dr. Brown with you?”

  “Yes. Please tell me. Is it Grandma? Is she okay?”

  Mom let out a shaky breath. I could tell she’d been crying. “It’s not Grandma, sweetie. It’s Dylan.”

  I sank down to the floor. “What happened?”

  “He’s gone, honey. He died.”

  For a moment, my brain stopped working. It literally stopped. I heard what she’d just said, but couldn’t process it. “No. He’s in the hospital.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

  “No, Mom. You’re wrong. He can’t be dead. It’s not possible.”

  I tried to deny it, but I heard the pain, sadness, and tears in her voice, and knew it was true. Dylan was dead. I felt my heart squeeze in my chest and come to a stop, like a frozen, black lump.

  “How?” I asked. “Tell me. I need to know”

  “He killed himself, Sam.”

  “But there are nurses. Was no one watching him? How did he do it? I need to know how.”

  I’d started screaming. I couldn’t stop myself.

  “I’ll tell you, but you need to calm down. Now. I mean it.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to settle down. I needed that long distance slap and my mother knew it.

  “Sorry, Mom. Please tell me everything. Please.”

  “It seemed like he was doing a bit better the last few days. Mrs. Hunter actually felt…hopeful. Then yesterday he got up, went into the bathroom, locked the door, and hung himself. He used his pajama bottoms. That poor boy and his poor family. I can’t imagine…”

  “Where were the nurses?”

  “They do a rotation every fifteen minutes. Dylan timed it perfectly. By the time they found him and unlocked the bathroom door, it was too late. He was determined to die. No one could have stopped him. Even with around the clock care, he still found a way.”

  I curled up in a ball, holding my knees close to my chest. “How are the Hunters?”

  She let out a sad little sigh. “As you would expect. The funeral is next week.”

  “I want to come.”

  “No, Sam. You can’t. I already discussed it with your father and with the Hunters. It would be too much for you, and I think it would be too much for them, too.”

  “Do they blame me? Do they think it’s my fault?”

  My phone died in my hands and I stared at it in shock. Suddenly, everything closed up and I couldn’t breathe. When I realized this was probably how Dylan felt in the last moments of his life, it got even worse.

  Dr. Brown watched me with concern. “She’s hyperventilating.”

  “She’s having an anxiety attack,” said Hana. “Somebody help her.”

  Thomas burst into the room, like a huge Scottish bull, just as I’d started seeing spots in front of my eyes. It had never been this bad before. I gulped, trying to get air into my lungs, bu
t I looked like a goldfish that had jumped out of its bowl, gasping on the floor.

  Thomas grabbed my face in his hands, his blue eyes locked on mine. He looked scared. I was scared, too.

  “Breathe with me, Sam. Remember how we did this. Just breathe with me.”

  I clutched his hands, nearly clawing at him. Terrified.

  “You can do it. Relax. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

  I remembered Mr. Ando’s words in the garden. His job was to exist. To breathe in and breathe out. Right now that was my job, too.

  I pushed all thoughts of Dylan out of my head and kept my focus on Thomas. It took a long time, longer than I expected, but eventually I began to breathe, taking one long shuddering breath after another.

  Thomas pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. “That’s my girl.”

  I pushed him away. Furious. When I spoke, my voice sounded raspy and strange. “Get out. Now.”

  He stared at me, his blue eyes hurt and confused, and then he slowly stood up and walked out the door.

  I scrambled around, searching for my phone charger, throwing things around the room. Dr. Brown watched me. “I think we need to call the nurse.”

  Hana cried softly, leaning against Hiro. He pulled out his phone and called the nurse, speaking softly in Japanese. I stomped back and forth, muttering to myself, not caring how I looked or sounded. When I finally found my charger, under a pile of dirty laundry, I ran to the outlet and plugged it in. My mom FaceTimed me before I could even dial her number. She took one look at my face and started to cry again.

  “Sam. Oh, baby.”

  I stared at her, wanting to see the truth in her eyes. “Do they blame me?” I asked, carefully enunciating every word.

  She shook her head, confused. “Why would they blame you? Sweetheart, Dylan was a very sick boy. If you hadn’t found him in his apartment when you did, he would have been dead months ago.”

  I heard her words, and on a logical level I understood them, but on an emotional level I felt like a murderer. She obviously read something about how I felt on my face.

  “Can I talk to Dr. Brown for a moment?” she asked, wiping her eyes with a tissue. My dad hovered in the background, silent and worried.

  I nodded, handing him the phone, numb. I heard the soft whispers of their conversation. Yes, we’ve called the nurse. She’ll be here soon. Someone will be with Sam at all times. No need to worry.

  When Nurse Kawada saw me, she decided I’d just earned a visit to the medical center of the university. She thought I could use a mild sedative, and I wasn’t about to argue with her.

  She tucked me into a bed, murmuring soft, soothing words to me in Japanese as she put in an IV. Immediately, I felt calmer. I must have passed out soon afterward. I didn’t wake until early evening.

  Thomas sat by my bed, holding my hand and stroking it. I smiled when I saw him, then everything came back to me in a horrible rush and I remembered what had happened. I snatched my hand away.

  “I told you to leave.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  “Too bad.”

  I turned my face away, refusing to look at him. “Why?” I asked, my voice soft as a whisper.

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you want to stay? This doesn’t exactly bode well for us, Thomas. Dylan killed himself, probably while we were...” I let out a shuddering sigh. “How can we possibly get over something like this?”

  He stayed silent, refusing to speak until I turned back and faced him. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

  “Because I love you and you love me, and I’m a stubborn ox. Yesterday, you promised me forever. I don’t accept backsies.”

  I frowned, staring at him in disbelief. “Backsies?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. I spoke with your mum, by the way. She called while you slept. She’s worried sick.”

  I groaned. “Give me my phone.”

  He handed it to me and I called her, reassuring I hadn’t completely lost my mind. “It was such a terrible shock, sweetheart. And hearing about it over the phone...”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “Do you want me to come? Daddy offered to fly over, too.”

  “No. You can’t leave your kindergarteners, and Daddy could never handle that long flight. I thought he’d have a heart attack just flying to Florida. I’ll be fine, and Sophie will be here in a few weeks anyway.”

  “If you need me, I’ll be on the next plane.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Is Thomas there? He promised to watch out for you.”

  I scowled at him. “Yes, he’s here.”

  “Can I talk with him?”

  I handed him the phone, giving him another dirty look. Now he was in cahoots with my mom. He’d probably already charmed my dad as well. And all it would take was for Sophie to hear his accent. She’d have an instant crush on him.

  He took the phone into the hall and spoke with her quietly for a few minutes. When he came back, I pretended to sleep, my back to him, but he didn’t fall for it.

  “It’s time to talk, Sam.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “If you don’t pull it together, Dr. Brown is going to send you home and you’ll miss out on the rest of the semester here. Is that what you want?”

  I turned slowly and faced him, still frowning like a petulant child. “What are you talking about?”

  “You scared the bejesus out of him. He’d never seen an anxiety attack before. You scared Hana, too.”

  “I can’t go home. They don’t even want me at the funeral.”

  He glared at me. “That wasn’t what she said, but if you want to whinge, whine, and wallow, go ahead.”

  “You’re being mean.”

  “I’m being honest. What good would it do for you to go to the funeral? Think about why you want to go. It isn’t for Dylan, or his family, or your family. It’s because you’re afraid you’ll feel guilty afterwards if you don’t, and you’re pretty much full up on guilt right now. Do you know what guilt is? Self-indulgence. A useless emotion.”

  I blinked away tears. “Why are you doing this?”

  He got up and sat on the side of my bed. “Because you need it.”

  He might have been right, but I wasn’t about to admit that at the moment. I looked at the IV in my arm. “Can we see about getting this removed? I want to get out of here.”

  He nodded. “That’s my girl.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  He ignored me completely and went to look for Nurse Kawada. I flopped back down on my pillows.

  “Stubborn freaking ox.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next few days, I waded through a fog of grief and sorrow. I put on a brave face, trying to convince Dr. Brown and everyone else I’d be fine, deceiving them all. Except for Thomas. He saw right through me. He let me have my space. He didn’t push or pry. But when I caught him staring at me, I knew he understood exactly what game I played.

  The day of the funeral turned into the hardest day of my life. Thomas and Hana took turns hovering around me until I finally begged for some privacy.

  I felt so helpless. So far away. Bethany and Gabriela Skyped me before and after, mostly because I insisted. I made my mom do the same. I made all of them tell me every detail, every moment. What had Mr. Hunter said? How had Mrs. Hunter looked? Was Jake okay?

  Max Skyped with me, too. We cried together, both of us mired in shared guilt over what had happened.

  “He never saw the video of us, Sam. I’m sure of it.”

  I closed my eyes, a fresh wave of pain washing over me. “How can you know?”

  “I double checked with the police after they sorted through everything with Seth’s phone, which took months. The video had been uploaded, but they took it down in seconds. It had no views. No one ever saw it. We can kind of pretend it never existed.”

  “No
we can’t, Max, but thanks for letting me know. Tell me more about the funeral.”

  I needed to feel a part of it. I was so far away. The one thing I didn’t have to ask was about how awful it had been. How emotional. How completely devastating. That part was obvious.

  My thoughts kept touching on all the moments Dylan and I had together. The way he’d looked and smelled. The way he’d spoken Italian and brought me picnic lunches. The way he’d held my hand and made me feel protected. Important. A special person and he made me feel special too.

  He’d been mature for his age, wise beyond his years. Because of his illness. Because he’d suffered. He’d rushed into a relationship with me, the same way he rushed through everything in his life, like he knew he didn’t have much time left. The thought made me so ill I actually started to heave. He’d been on death row the entire time we dated, and I’d acted like a silly, selfish child. Picturing his sad, dark eyes, I knew I could have done better. I should have done better.

  I hadn’t brought anything with me to remind me of him. I’d left all his gifts at home. But I went over photos of us together online. I avoided other people’s pages, afraid of what I might read there. There could be accusations. Lies. Different theories about how or why Dylan had died. I didn’t want to see any of that. I didn’t want to know.

  People got excited about tragedy. The death of a young, handsome, wealthy man fascinated them. But until it happens to you, until you meet this sort of agony face to face, you have no comprehension of the depth and breadth of it. The pain felt like a dark ocean. Powerful. Immense. Impossible to cross. And the scariest part wasn’t on the surface, it existed far below, in places no one could see.

  I found one picture I posted not long after we’d started dating. Dylan held me close, a happy smile on his face. I studied it, trying to remember how I’d felt before all the darkness came and ruined everything.

  The hardest thing for me to look at turned out to be the photos of Jake’s birthday. A nice kid, he obviously idolized his big brother. I wondered what would happen to Sophie if she lost me. What would happen to my parents? I couldn’t even begin to process what Mr. and Mrs. Hunter felt right now. It made my ocean of loss look more like a puddle.