A Love Like Yours

by Robin Huber

  I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything.

  “He wasn’t in his right mind. He didn’t mean to leave me. He just loved her so much…” Her voice trails off and she stares out of her window again.

  We ride in silence for a few minutes, until we’re on the outskirts of the city. But when we pass the graffiti-covered Welcome to Brighton Park sign, Molly looks at me and asks nervously, “Where are we going?”

  “We’re both orphans, Molly. The only thing that really differentiates us is circumstance. You were left with a trust fund, and I was left with all this.” I raise my hand and gesture at the dimly lit projects we’re driving past.

  She squirms in her seat. “I can’t believe you grew up here.”

  “Well, not far from here.” I glance at her concerned face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop. I just like to drive through sometimes, remember where I came from.”

  “Why would you want to remember a place like this?”

  “Her name is Lucy. We grew up here together.”

  She stares at me for several seconds. “Wait. The woman in the elevator? That was Lucy? Your Lucy?”

  “The one and only.”

  “But she was so…” She shakes her head. “She’s from Brighton Park?”

  “I know. You wouldn’t know it by looking at her, but believe me, there was a time when she wore secondhand clothes and dyed her hair pink with Kool-Aid packets.” I think about the day she came into my life, with her tangled hair and shy smile.

  “When did you reconnect?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  She gives me apologetic eyes. “Oh, Sam, I hope I didn’t—”

  “No. I talked her off the ledge after she saw the tweets.”

  She nods and looks down at her lap. “So is that why you wanted to take a drive instead of going up to your place?”

  I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “You’ll always be my friend, Molly. Just not that kind of friend. Not anymore, okay?”

  She pulls her hand away and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Isn’t she engaged?”

  “For now.”

  “And you’re you expecting that to change?”

  “I don’t know. Yes,” I say, frustrated by the events of the evening.

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then I’ll wait.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know, Molly. Forever,” I say, irritated.

  “Wow,” she whispers. “You really do love her.”

  “Life would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t,” I say, winding the steering wheel to pull into a gas station.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I just have to get gas.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “I know the tenant, Marcus. He’s been working here since I was a teenager. It’s safe.”

  She glances around the well-lit gas station. “Do you think I could use the restroom?” She scrunches her nose.

  I nod. “Marcus keeps them clean.”

  “Okay.” She gets out and hurries across the parking lot.

  I insert my credit card into the gas pump and begin filling my tank. I watch the numbers climb on the meter for a few minutes until they reach twenty-three gallons, and then I hear Molly’s heels tapping across the parking lot again. I look up and she gives me two thumbs up, but then she freezes and her face falls.

  “Give me your wallet,” a gravelly voice says from behind me.

  I turn around and see a man in a dark hoodie standing behind me, holding a gun.

  “Give me your wallet!” he shouts.

  I reach for my wallet and pull several hundred dollars out of it. “Here, just take the money.”

  He takes the cash and shoves it in his pocket. “I know there’s more. Credit cards too. And your car.”

  I shake my head and rub my hand over my chin. “You’re not taking my car.”

  He points the gun at my face. “Are you crazy?”

  “Just give it to him, Sam!” Molly cries.

  I take a step toward him. “Do you know who I am?”

  “The bullets in this here gun don’t give a fuck who you are.”

  “You think I’m scared of a gun?” I shake my head. “I’ve known guys like you my whole life.”

  He looks down at my arm. “You got some tattoos, so you think you’re tough, huh? You don’t know me. Cocky rich boy in your fancy clothes on the wrong side of town. In your fancy car with your fancy lady.” He looks over my shoulder at Molly. “I bet she tastes real good.”

  “Sam.”

  I take another step toward him and grit through my teeth, “Put the gun down, take the money, and walk away.”

  “Nah, you ain’t scared. But she is.” He points the gun at Molly.

  She screams and falls to her knees.

  I step back and hold my hands up. “Okay, man. Just leave her alone. She didn’t do anything. If you want to shoot somebody, shoot me.” I pull my key fob out of my pocket. “Here, take the car.”

  He ignores me and starts to walk toward Molly.

  “Hey!” I shout, and he stops. When he looks over his shoulder at me, I throw a hard left hook at his face, and he falls to the ground. But not before firing his gun. The blast sounds through the empty gas station and rings through my ears.

  I look down at the man out cold on the pavement and kick the gun away from his hand. Molly is still crouched down on the ground. She looks up at me, but her face is sheet white.

  “Molly.” I run over to her, and she reaches for me with a bloody hand. Oh, fuck.

  “Sam! You okay?” Marcus shouts across the parking lot. “I called the police.”

  “We need an ambulance. My friend was shot.”

  He runs back inside.

  “I was shot?” Molly asks weakly.

  I lift her arm and try to find the wound, but all I see is blood. “Yeah, but you’re going to be okay. Help is on the way.” I hear sirens getting closer.

  “Sam?” I hear the fear in her voice.

  “You’re going to be okay.”

  “Something’s…wrong,” she slurs and falls limp in my arms.

  “Molly? Molly?”

  Several police cars pull into the gas station, followed by an ambulance.

  “She needs help!” I yell to the officers getting out of their squad cars with their guns drawn. “She was shot.”

  One of the officers lowers his gun and kneels down beside me. “Is she breathing?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. She just passed out.”

  Several EMTs surround us and begin checking her vitals. I try to lay her down, but one of them looks at me says, “Don’t move, Mr. Cole. We’ll move her.”

  I stay still while they transfer her onto a stretcher. “Is she going to be okay?” I ask as they wheel her over to the ambulance.

  “We’re going to do everything we can to make sure that she is.”

  A second team of EMTs huddle around the shooter.

  “What about him?” I ask one of the officers.

  “He’ll be treated for his injuries and charged with attempted armed robbery and attempted murder, if that’s what happened.” He looks at me inquisitively.

  “It is.”

  “Mr. Cole, can you come with me, please?” He walks toward his squad car, and against every fiber of my being, I follow him.

  After providing detailed answers to his scrutinizing questions, he pats my back and gives me permission to follow the ambulance to the hospital. “You better get that hand checked out,” he says, which only at the mention begins to ache.

  I flex my fingers in and out a few times. I think it’s okay, but I need to have it looked at just in case.

  The officer gives me his card. “I’ll be following up soon, Sam.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “Take care of that hand, champ.”

  “Hi,” I say to Molly, who is blinking up at me from her hospital bed.

  “Hi,” she croaks.
>
  “How are you feeling?”

  She swallows and closes her eyes. “Thirsty.”

  I hand her a cup of water from her bedside table, and she reaches for it with a shaking hand. “Here.” I hold it to her mouth and she takes a sip.

  She inhales a deep breath and groans. “Ow.”

  “Do you need me to get the nurse?”

  “No.” She shakes her head and clicks a small device in her hand. “I need morphine.” She smiles weakly and I see that the device is connected to her IV.

  “The nurse said you were shot in the side, but the bullet didn’t hit any organs. You were really lucky.”

  “Yeah.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I got shot.”

  “Molly, I…I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

  “I should have never taken you there. It was stupid.”

  She reaches for my hand. “Thank you for what you did, Sam.”

  “I don’t know, maybe if I didn’t hit him, you wouldn’t have been shot.”

  “Or maybe I would have, at close range.”

  I shrug and nod.

  “How’s your hand?”

  “A doctor looked at it and said it’s fine.” I make a fist and only feel a slight ache in it now.

  She closes her eyes. “Good.”

  “The nurse said your aunt is on her way?”

  “She’s flying down from Chicago. She’s going to stay with me until I’m better.”

  “That’s good.”

  She yawns. “What time is it?”

  “Three.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Yeah.”

  She looks at my bloodstained shirt. “You should go home and get some sleep. And burn that shirt.” She scrunches up her nose and gives me small smile.

  “I can stay until your aunt gets here.”

  She shakes her head from side to side. “No. I’m fine. Go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Okay.”

  “And, don’t worry about me tweeting anything. I can barely hold my phone right now.” She laughs quietly.

  “TMZ already took care of that for you.”

  Her eyes widen a little. “What? They did?”

  I nod and she closes her eyes again.

  “There were a lot of people around tonight. It was inevitable.”

  “Have you talked to Lucy yet?”

  “No.” I can’t even begin to think of how I’m going to explain this to her.

  “Please tell her how sorry I am for that day in the elevator.”

  “I will.”

  “She must be a pretty incredible woman.”

  “She is.”

  She closes her eyes and whispers, “I hope everything works out for you, Sam.”

  “Me too.”

  She lies quietly.

  “Molly?” I whisper, but she doesn’t answer. Hopefully the morphine kicked in.

  I lean over her and gently kiss her forehead before I leave.

  Chapter 17

  Lucy

  I wake to the smell of bacon and look over at Drew’s side of the bed. It’s still made from the night before. He didn’t come to bed. My heart sinks, because I know there’s more than breakfast waiting for me downstairs. There’s a man waiting for answers. Answers I tried to give him last night. I close my eyes and sigh. I should have tried harder.

  I sit up and grab my phone, blinking until my blurry eyes adjust to the daylight, and I see three missed calls from Sebastian. He texted too.

  Sebastian: OMG. Are you okay? Call me.

  Me: Yes but I can’t talk now. I’ll come over after I shower.

  Sebastian: Ok

  I throw my covers off and climb out of bed, lured by the smell of coffee and bacon. I pass the guest bedroom on my way downstairs and find the guest bed slept in and unmade.

  “Good morning,” I say to Drew, who is standing over the sink.

  “Good morning,” he says over his shoulder.

  I take a seat at the island. “Did you sleep okay?”

  He nods and turns around. “I thought maybe we could use a little space last night. And I know how much you like when I come to bed smelling like bourbon.” He smiles softly.

  “You didn’t have to sleep in the guest room.”

  He shrugs and says seriously, “That bed’s actually really comfortable.”

  I nod and watch him make a cup of coffee. “Drew, I think we should talk about last night.”

  He hands me the cup. “I meant what I said, Lucy. You need to spend the next few days focused on the exhibit. Not on us. And I need to focus on my work too. A problem came up with the permitting this morning, and I’m going to go back to Philly to handle it in person.”

  “You’re leaving again?”

  He looks at me and says, “I heard you last night, okay?” He puts his hand on mine. “But right now, I think the best thing for both of us is a little space. That way you can focus on making the exhibit a success. Because no matter how muddy the waters are between us right now, I’m not going to let it interfere with the biggest night of your career. Not when you’ve worked so hard for it.”

  “Drew.” I close my eyes and exhale a tentative breath.

  He walks back over to the stove and makes a plate. “Here, have some breakfast.” He puts the plate in front of me, but there’s no way I can eat with my stomach in knots.

  “I’ll be back in a few days. Then we’ll get through the exhibit and talk about it,” he says, giving me a small, sincere smile. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I knock on Sebastian’s door, and he answers with record speed, like he was waiting on the other side of it.

  “Hey.” I walk inside and drop my purse on the bright yellow tufted bench that’s pushed against the wall in the foyer. Paul and Sebastian’s apartment is the picture of midcentury modern perfection. Straight, clean lines are contrasted by smooth, curved angles, and warm neutral tones are accented with vibrant pops of color. It’s 1955 meets today, and I love it. “Where’s Paul?” I ask when I don’t see him.

  “I sent him away when you said you were coming over.”

  “Sebastian. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “We were out of groceries anyway. I hope you’re not hungry.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I ate.” I picked at my bacon anyway. But I did finish my coffee.

  “Oh, good. I’ve been really worried about you. Are you okay?” He takes my hand and pulls me into the living room.

  I sigh and fall onto the sofa. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you talked to Sam?”

  My heart sinks at the mention of his name. “No.” He was so upset when he left last night. I just want to give him some space today. It seems to be a common theme, but maybe it’s the best thing for all of us. Honestly, after everything that happened last night, I need some time to regroup.

  “Well, I’m sure the story was grossly exaggerated.”

  “What story?” I ask, raising my eyebrows curiously.

  His eyes narrow and then widen. “Are you joking?”

  “No,” I insist, trying to slow the thoughts that are suddenly storming my mind. “What story?”

  “Didn’t you see the news?”

  “No,” I say, practically shouting at him now. I was a little preoccupied.

  He inhales a deep breath and says gravely, “Sam was involved in a shooting last night.”

  “What?” My pulse races and my vision blurs around the edges. Suddenly the developments with Drew seems insignificant. “Oh, my God. Is he okay?” I scramble for my phone as tears flood my eyes.

  “He’s fine. He wasn’t shot.”

  I stifle a cry.

  “But he got mugged at a gas station.”

  I fumble with my phone, trying to unlock it. “I have to call him.”

  Sebastian reaches for my arm. “Lucy. He was with a woman.”

  My eyes flash to his, and when
I see the pity in them, I know that it’s true. “What?”

  “She’s the one who was shot.”

  My heart turns inside out and hides from a pain so big it could destroy me.

  Sebastian puts his hand on mine, which I realize is shaking. “She’s okay.”

  Should that give me some sort of comfort?

  “Who is she?”

  “According to the news, her name is Molly Pritchett.”

  My heart stops beating altogether.

  “She owns a graphic design company and…” Sebastian’s voice fades away. All I hear is the strangled sound of my breath catching in my throat.

  “Lucy?”

  I look at up him.

  “You okay?”

  I stand up and shake my head. “No. I am not okay.”

  He reaches for me, but I pull my hand away.

  “She’s the woman from the elevator in Sam’s building. The one he admitted to sleeping with. The one who tweeted about me!”

  “No.” His eyes get big. “Are you kidding? Of course you’re not.” He grabs my hand and pulls me back down onto the couch.

  “Why was he with her, Bas?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie.”

  I grab my phone and search for the story.

  Sam Cole Shooting: Girlfriend Shot.

  Sam Cole’s Girlfriend Shot in Mugging.

  I put my phone down when I see a picture of his car. “Girlfriend?”

  “You know it’s not true.”

  “When did it happen?” I ask, knowing Bas has already read every article.

  “Ten thirty.”

  “Where?”

  “Brighton Park.”

  I exhale a silent breath and drop my head to my hands. “This is my fault.” I cry softly.

  “What? Honey. No.”

  “He was so upset when he left last night. He begged me to go with him. He begged me, Sebastian. And I told him no.” I go grab a tissue. “I was so worried about Drew and the stupid exhibit, I just let him go.”

  “The exhibit isn’t stupid,” he says, reining me in. “Drew, however…” He gives me a slanted look.

  “I don’t know what got into him last night,” I say, wiping my eyes.

  “I do. Sam.”

  “How could I do this to him?”

  “How could you do what to who?”