“Holy shit,” The kid reiterates. “Is that....? Fucking impossible, but....Bix, is that Sam?”
I can't answer him. I couldn't even if I tried. My body is numb, useless, and my brain refuses to make sense out of what I'm seeing. I mean it looks like him. It fucking looks so much like him. But he doesn't appear to recognize us. Finally, Gordon does what my frozen vocal chords refuse to.
“Sam? Sam McKinley?” he yells out and immediately the broad shoulders stiffen in recognition. He knows the name, and his casual interest at our approach turns to intense perusal.
Yanking my hat from my head, I let my unobstructed gaze meet his. I know the moment recognition sets in. A flood of emotion radiates across his face. Disbelief, happiness, and...regret?
As numb as my body was earlier, it now feels as if it's buzzing with uncontainable energy. My legs move on their own and start pumping, carrying me across the distance separating us. I barely manage to stop from launching myself into his arms. Instead I draw up short just inches from him like a dog yanked back on a leash, drinking him in. He stares back, both of us mute.
“Sammy?” I finally manage to croak out.
“Bixby,” he responds. His voice reverberates in my ears and down my spine. It is deeper than I remember. Older. But the sound of it breaks me. It's him. It's Sam. The smile that stretches across his face is like seeing the first beam of sunshine after months of darkness, and my heart starts beating in my chest again.
His arms flap at his sides as if he isn't sure what to do with them. And then he just opens them wide. I don't need any more invitation. I leap into his arms, and he pulls me to his chest, hugging me tight. He smells like grass, and wet earth,....and Sam.
The waterworks start then. I can't help it. The tears fall on their own accord as my arms twine around his neck, holding on for dear life and promising never to let go.
“Sam,” I sob into his neck. “Is it really you?” What a stupid fucking thing to say after he's come back from the dead. Of course it's him. Who else could it be?
“Yeah, it's me,” he confirms gently, and my clutching, needy hands tighten their hold on his neck.
“Bix, I can't breathe,” he mumbles against the top of my head.
A mixture between a sob and a laugh explodes from my chest, but I loosen my grip and step back without letting go. I just need to see his face again. I need to know I'm not dreaming.
We stare at each other in disbelief as his hands roam over my arms, my shoulders, my face, touching me everywhere. I shiver under the light caress even though his fingertips scorch my skin like molten lava flowing over my body. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he left a trail of blisters in his wake. It is a pleasurable pain that I don't want to stop.
Shock and uncertainty competes with happiness. My knees and hands shake as I reciprocate with my own exploration of the face that haunts my memories. My head spins with the words I want to say, but nothing seems to be forming coherently at the moment. I want to tell him how fucking happy I am to see him. I want to ask what the hell he is doing here. But all I can do is blubber like a baby.
Time seems to stand still. I don't know how long we stand there, leaning against each other for support. But then shouting interrupts and I hear the shocked cries of “Sam?”
The rest of my crew have finally caught up.
I tear my eyes reluctantly away from his face. I don't want to break the moment of contact for fear Sam will dissipate in front of me. But the disbelief I see on the faces of the rest of the hunters reassures me that he is not in my head or part of any dream. And the sharp look of pain in Luke's brown eyes as he hurries toward us confirms that I truly am back in Sam's arms.
CHAPTER TEN
The next couple of hours are a blur. Questions are asked. Words are said. Whole conversations carried on. None of it registers with me. All I see....all I pay attention to is Sam.
The girl I thought I recognized is one of us, too. Melissa Higgins. She had been part of Sam's crew on the day they disappeared. Eighteen months ago. And now they are both here. In front of us, alive and well. A bit thinner than I remember, but showing no obvious trauma. Eighteen months.
Someone informed Kip of the happenings, and she moved us all inside the big house, giving us the opportunity to reconnect without gaping observers watching our every move. The shock of finding them is finally starting to wear off, and now unbelievable thoughts are jumping into my head. Eighteen fucking months. Where were they all that time?
That question must be asked to them over and over by different members of our crew. We get the same answer every time. They don't remember. They don't remember anything other than waking up in a ditch along the side of a highway. A bunch of them. A lot more than the ones Lewis and his crew found wandering about. They apparently just started walking. No destination in mind, no supplies, or weapons. Hell, most of them didn't even know their own names. They just walked.
Some of the group wandered away during the nights they stopped to rest. Some just sat down and refused to walk any further. They whittled away until there was only nine of them left. The nine Kip's people had rescued. Sam and Melissa weren't sure about the rest of their crew. They never saw them after waking up, but they do remember the mutations. They had seen them on their second day. Two of them, feeding off some poor deer they'd killed. Lucky for Sam and his group, the hybrids were too engrossed with their feast to take any notice of them. They'd hightailed it out of there as fast as they could.
It had to have been the same creatures we'd come in contact with. The description matched perfectly. Although whether these guys were new mutations or just a couple of survivors from St. Joseph’s, we weren't sure. I think Sam and Melissa were just happy to know it wasn't all in their heads like they believed.
The story pours out of them, but there's just something about it that doesn't jive. As much as I want to believe it—as much as I want Sam to be back and everything to be okay—this doesn't feel right. Unease tickles at the back of my brain. Maybe it's because the Sam I know, the Sam I remember does not seem to be the man sitting across from me. This Sam is guarded. Cold. The light gray eyes I remember being filled with warmth and laughter are now shadowed and restrained. The more he talks, the more questions I have. And they all come around to my one main concern. Where were they for the past eighteen months and what happened to them in that time? Immediately I tamp down the thoughts. It should be enough that Sam is here now.
“Holy shit! It's true.” Badger bursts in through the door, his arm in a sling, and a smile from ear to ear. “Gordon told me you guys were here, but I couldn't believe it. Fucking Sam McKinley, in the flesh. And Melissa Higgins. Un-fucking-believable.”
Badger's excitement at seeing them is unmistakable. I'd forgotten that Badger has known Sam just as long as I have. He goes to his old friend, and Sam gets to his feet, pulling the shorter man into a hug.
“Badger,” he says, face lighting with warmth, and for a split second the old Sam emerges. It doesn't last long, but it lights a spark of hope in my heart.
Badger hangs on with his awkward one-armed, monkey in a barrel hug, then pushes Sam out at arm's length. “What the fuck, dude? You've been missing for over a year. Where the hell have you been?”
Ah, that million-dollar question again. Sam's eyes cloud over and his body tenses slightly. I'm probably the only one to notice, but I do. Maybe it's because I know him so well, but I know he's hiding something. Chills ripple over my skin, and I shiver in apprehension.
But then he hides his reaction so quickly, I almost think I've imagined it. “Long story, man,” he says with a grin. “And the same can be said for you.” He plucks at Badger's sling. “What the hell happened?”
Badger lifts the arm sling with a grimace and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “This bunch of A-holes almost let me get eaten by a damned leech.”
I snort at his words. “Yeah, lucky for you, you taste like shit, so the thing spit you back out again.”
Sam
's laughter mingles with the rest of my crew, and his eyes meet mine across the wide table. The sparkle I see in them eases my apprehension some, and I let myself relax. Maybe these stupid ideas and gut feelings I'm having are way off. I can only hope, but I'm itching to get some alone time with him. Maybe he will tell me things he's not telling the others.
“So, you remember Badger and Bix and the rest of us, but you can't remember where you've been for the past eighteen months?” Luke’s words are spoken softly, but they cut the air like a knife. “I find that so hard to understand. How can you not remember?”
All laughter in the room tapers off awkwardly. Luke hasn't come right out and said it, but he sounds like he's accusing Sam of lying. Sam's eyes narrow, which is an indication he's pissed. But he doesn't blow his top like I expect. Instead, he unexpectedly grins at Luke and shrugs.
“Sorry, bro, but it is what it is. We don't remember. Hell, we didn't remember any of you guys until we saw you earlier.”
“Could be selective amnesia,” Gordon adds. “You know, where people lose certain parts of their memory. I've read about this before. It happens when people undergo tremendous trauma like, geez....I don't know. Watching people you love die. The brain can only take so much before it shuts itself down. Hey, maybe that's it. Maybe you guys saw the rest of your team die, so it caused your amnesia.”
“For fuck’s sake, shut up you idiot.” Dom punches the kid in the shoulder, hard. “If that is the case, then the last thing they need is for you to bring it back up. Moron.”
“I was just trying to help,” Gordon whines as he holds his shoulder.
“I'll tell you what'll help,” Dom continues. “You keeping your lips from flapping. That'll help.”
The kid ignores him as usual. “You think that's it Sam? You think it’s selective amnesia?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Gordo.”
“Sorry, but I'm calling bullshit on this group amnesia shit. What's your take on this, Melissa? What do you remember about this time you've been missing?” Luke's like a dog with a bone; he's not giving up without a fight.
Melissa stares owl-eyed at Luke in fright before her gaze moves to Sam. Her mouth opens a couple of times, but nothing comes out. Her inability to say anything seems to fuel Sam's temper.
“Look, we told you a hundred times already, we don't remember. You can ask the rest of the people that were found with us, and we'll all tell you the same thing. We don't remember. The last thing we do remember is leaving the Grand and then waking up in that ditch by the side of the road. What happened during the months we were gone is a mystery to us as much as it is to you. And it's freaking us the fuck out, so how’s about you stop giving us the third degree?”
“How about you let Melissa answer for herself instead of putting words in her mouth?” Luke crosses his arms and stares down at Sam. I know that look all too well. He is not about to give up.
“Luke, how about we let this drop right now?” I plead with him quietly from my side of the table. He flicks his eyes my way. I can see a muscle twitching in his jaw, telling me he's biting back what he really wants to say. My eyes plead with him.
“Fine,” he says. He gives Sam a tight smile. “Sorry, man. I realize you both must have been through a lot, even if you don't remember. It's good to see you both safe and sound.”
He turns to walk away, but I grab his arm as he brushes by. “Where are you going?”
“Does it matter?” he whispers in resignation, his eyes straight ahead.
I close my eyes briefly and sigh. “Don't be like that. Please.” I can feel the tension release from his arm.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he finally looks down at me. “I made plans with Lewis to go pick up our bikes and supplies. We still have a mission to complete, or did you forget?” He doesn't give me a chance to answer. He pulls his arm gently out of my grasp and yells, “Kelly, Mike, you guys ready to go?”
“Count me in as well,” Robyn adds, pushing herself off the back wall where she had been resting, watching with amused interest. She saunters over to Sam and slaps him hard on the back.
“Welcome back, Samuel. Thanks for making things interesting.” She winks at me as she passes by, and I can see the grin hovering around her lips.
She's enjoying this. I grit my teeth, but I don't hurl at her the obscenities in my head right now. I keep it all inside. Along with the guilt gnawing at my gut. Sam just came back into my life after all this time and all I want to do is run after Luke and straighten this out. How fucked up is that?
“Well, then.” Kip claps her hands, startling me. I'd forgotten she was even here. “This was a very interesting morning. Quite a way to get the blood stirring, yes indeedy. I think given the circumstances, you two can be excused from your chores today.” She smiles a big toothy grin at Sam and Melissa. “I'm sure you need to understand everything and catch up with your people. It's not everyday someone returns from the dead, now is it? In fact, I think this calls for a celebration. Polly, let the cooks know we need an extra special meal done tonight. You know what? Never mind. I'll let them know myself.”
She's still chattering a mile a minute as she leaves the room, Polly in tow.
“Man, this is still so hard to believe,” Gordon shakes his head as he grins at the two sitting on the opposite side of the table. “I still think it's selective amnesia, even if Luke doesn't believe it at all.”
“Gordo, why don't you leave Luke out of this right now,” I murmur as I notice Sam's frown at the mention of the big guy.
“Gordon's right. Whitman's not making any attempt to believe a word of what we've told you. What the hell is up with him? From what I do remember, I always thought he was a decent guy. I don't recall him being such a major dick like he's shown himself to be here today.”
“Luke is a good guy, Sam,” Gordon says as he falls down into the chair vacated by Kip and splays his legs out in front of him. “He's a great guy, in fact. He's just not acting like himself right now. He'll get over it. He's probably jealous, you know, ‘cause of him and Bix and you being back now.”
The pregnant silence is broken by Badger's low “Ohhhhh boy.”
“What the hell, Gordo?” I growl at the kid, but he's already back on his feet, the earlier smile on his face replaced with panic.
“Ummmm, I gotta go find Evie and Scruff. See ya later.”
“Yeah, I gotta get back to the infirmary. The docs need to change my bandage,” Badger stutters as he follows on Gordo's heels, abandoning me like we're a bunch of kids, and I'm the one left standing holding the baseball bat next to the smashed window.
“Well lucky for you two, I've got nowhere to be.” Dom's grin is sadistic as he pulls out a chair and plunks his butt down.
“Get the fuck out, Dom,” I hurl his way without tearing my eyes from Sam's accusing gaze.
He lets loose a huge sigh. “Fine. Can't be bothered with your boring shit anyways. Come on, Higgins. Obviously these two lovebirds wanna be alone.” He snickers at his words before sauntering out the door. Melissa leaves as well, but not before throwing a couple of apprehensive looks at us over her shoulder. Finally, we're alone.
The silence seems to stretch out forever as we stare at each other across the table.
“Is it true?” he asks.
“Depends on what you're asking.”
He snorts in derision. “Don't play dumb, Bix. You know damn well what I'm asking. You and Whitman. You're...together?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I don't want to answer that, but I've never lied to Sam before in my life. Ever. I'm not about to start now. “If you're asking are we having sex....the answer is yes. Are we together? Maybe. Not officially.”
I hear his sharp intake of breath. “Jesus, Bix. Don't try to sugar coat it or anything.”
“It won't change the facts no matter how I tell—”
“How long?” he cuts me off.
“What?”
“How long have you two been...sleeping together?�
��
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I can feel a dull headache creeping up. “What does it matter?”
“It matters to me. How long?”
“One week or six months—it doesn't matter. It doesn't change the fact that he's my lover, or that you were gone for eighteen months. Eighteen fucking months, Sam! We thought you were dead. I thought you were dead. And it almost destroyed me. Luke was there to help me keep it together.”
“I'm sure he was,” he mutters, voice brimming with sarcasm. “Glad to see you waited for me.”
The headache is growing in leaps and bounds, aided by my mounting anger.
“Waited for you? Really? You come back from the dead after eighteen months, and you're pissed off at me for finding solace with a friend? Did you not hear me? We thought you were dead. We grieved for you. Me, Amy, Liv, everybody. We grieved for you all. It got so bad...I missed you so bad I thought I would die myself. I wanted to die, Sam. I didn't want to live without you. Luke helped me to live. So forgive me for turning to him for comfort.”
“Comfort?” His laugh is bitter. “Comforting someone means maybe giving them a hug or watching a movie with them or going for a walk together. Not having sex with them. Whitman took advantage of your grief, and you gave him what he wanted.”
“Excuse me?” What the fuck is he saying? “This is not at all on Luke. If anyone took advantage of anyone, it was me. I've ranted at him and cursed at him and treated him like shit, all in the name of grief, and he's done nothing but take it all in stride and still be there for me. He's a damned good man.”
I think he's going to say more. His eyes bore into me with an angry intensity. But then he drops his gaze, and I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Do you love him?”
I open my mouth to answer but nothing comes out. I don’t know how to answer that question. I truly don’t. Not at this moment in time. So I change the subject.
Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2) Page 12