“Sam, it’s okay. There’ll be another time.” And yes, I’m panicking that Ben will hear us. Once things get started, there’s no muting the sounds that might burst from my mouth.
“Janie?”
The bed shifts as I kneel on the edge of it and crawl towards Sam. “What?”
He pulls the covers back and lays his head back on the pillow. “I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake just wishing for an opportunity like this. To have you alone, have you in my arms. If my hands were the way they used to be, I’d always be touching you somehow.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your lips,” I whisper.
A grin tickles at his mouth. “No. There ain’t.”
Sam reaches out and slides his hand between my knees. A shiver creeps up my spine as his fingers climb the soft flesh of my inner thigh. I grip the timber bedhead either side of his shoulders and straddle his lap.
“I’m not wasting a chance to have you, Janie,” he says as his fingers slide beneath my wet folds. “I never will. You know, seize the girl and all that.”
My hair teases at his face as I lean down and giggle against his mouth, playfully biting his lips. “That’d make a great song title. Seize the Girl. Like that saying ‘seize the day’, from Dead Poet’s Society.”
“That’s a cracker of a movie. ‘Oh captain, my captain’,” he says with a nod.
“Yes!” I say, and press my forehead against his. “’No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world’,” I say, quoting from the mouth of Robin Williams himself.
“That’s what I wanna do,” Sam says.
I shift down his body and watch on as a stern determination flashes across his gaze. “I wanna change the world through my music, my song-writing. Music has the power to move, to help people listen to things that matter, and to heal,” he says, as his hard length twitches against my thigh. Sam reaches beneath his pillow and produces a small square silver packet. When did he hide that there?
I take it from him, unwrap the condom, and roll it down his length.
Sam guides himself between my legs and pushes deep inside me. “And you know what?” he says as I groan, adjusting to his girth.
“What?” I move my hips back and forth.
Sam’s fingers dig into my hips. He grimaces as he sits up and reaches around my lower back. “With you as my muse, I’m unstoppable.”
My heart seizes in my chest before jolting back into rhythm. “Yeah?”
“Hell, yeah. You’ve changed my world, Janie.”
My heart pangs. With each thrust, my nerves stir and tingle. Love. Sam’s eyes feast on my body, and he kisses me with a fever that has me feeling more alive than ever.
“I never thought I’d find someone like you. Someone who would see me for me.” My voice is choked with tears.
“Don’t worry. I see you. Crystal clear.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Birds chirp outside my window as the morning sun streams through the gap in my curtains. I don’t want to get up, because when I do it means it won’t be too much longer before Sam is on his way home. I’d hold him hostage, but I don’t think I stand a chance against Ben.
“I feel like a Mack truck has run over me,” Sam says and scratches at his chest.
“I’ll have you know that I’m down to my lowest weight in years. Didn’t hear any complaints when I was on top.”
“Not you, babe. And let me just say you will never hear me complain about that.”
I yank up the floral patchwork quilt and snuggle in closer to Sam.
“I dig this ‘waking up together’ business,” I say with a nudge of my knee against his.
“If I tell you something, promise you won’t think it’s weird,” Sam says.
“Sorry. Can’t promise you.” I peck him on the lips.
“Your place … it feels like home. More home than any place I’ve lived in in a while.”
Home. My heart does the samba in my chest. Sam likes it here. He’s comfortable. I can’t imagine any of my exes would’ve like this place. Most of them would consider it more a dump than a home.
“Really? It’s probably only a year off being pulled apart and renovated. The landlord would’ve done it sooner but he’s trying to get his finances sorted.”
“Sure, it’s not perfect, but it has this feel about it. And with you here”—he sweeps the back of his cool fingers over my cheek, brushing up towards my ear—“it’s damn well perfect.”
“Your apartment is nice, though.” It’s modern and clean, but pretty stark. I’m used to four different kinds of faded wallpaper surrounding me. White just feels so clinical—much like Sam’s room in the home. Maybe that’s why he likes it here. It’s the complete opposite of that.
“Since I moved to the city, I have to admit, I’ve barely slept.” He rubs the back of his hand across his wrinkled brow.
“How come?” Is his bed uncomfortable? The buzz of traffic keeping him awake?
“I’ve been thinking about the future and how I’m gonna get to where I need to be. It’s all been swirling about my head—my music, my writing, but more importantly, you. Our future together.”
A fog seizes my brain. I nod in the absence of coherent words forming. If he wants a future in music, he has to be in the big smoke. He has to be accessible.
Please don’t ask me to move to the city. Because I love you, and I don’t think I could say no. But I love this town. I’m a born-and-bred small-town girl. The city would choke the life-blood out of me.
I bite down on my lip to try and stop my chin from quivering.
Sam picks up on my change in mood and pulls my chest against his. “When I kick this thing for good, I’m coming back to Willow Creek,” he says and grins.
My jaw drops. It takes my brain a second to catch up. “Y-you will?”
“Yup. Not sure when, but I’m gonna make it happen. There’s just one thing that’s been on my mind. I need to ask you something.”
I gulp down. “What?”
“Have you got room for me?” Hope swirls in his eyes. It’s a beautiful sight.
“Is the sky blue?” I blurt out. Wait a sec. I have no idea if the sky is blue today. I lean up and whisk open the curtains, revealing the most beautiful of autumn days, not a cloud in sight.
I point to the open window. “See? Blue.”
A slap noise brings my head around. A sting registers seconds later on my left butt cheek. Sam pulls me back into his chest, chuckling as if he’s just told the funniest joke ever.
“Amused?”
“Yup,” he says. “You reckon you can get used to that?”
I roll over and cover us with the quilt. “What, having you around to smack my arse? Sure.”
Sam’s mouth moves into a firm line. “To be serious, though, I need to be with my muse. You’re my focus, Jane. The haze in my brain fades when you’re around. I wanna write about what really matters: about people connecting, friends, family, and lovers. I wanna sing with all the breath in my lungs about love, and cherishing every moment, no matter how insignificant.”
“If you make my heart melt just listening to your plan, then your words are going to be so powerful. I can’t wait.”
Sam sweeps his hand over my hip and draws me in closer. “If my life was a song, it’d start off in the dark. You’d be my middle, the cause of celebration in the chorus, and with me at the end.”
What can I possibly say to match such beautiful words? My eyes well up. “Oh, Sam.”
“I thought I was living, before GBS robbed me, but I wasn’t. Not even close. You brought me to life, Janie. You reached inside my chest, massaged my heart, and got the blood pumping again.”
“Kiss me,” I choke out. “Before your words turn me into a blubbering mess.”
Sam kisses me softly. Once. Twice. Three times. I laugh against his mouth as he begins to hum.
I recognise the rise and fall of the tune. He continues on, repeating the soft rolling beat.
&
nbsp; “Is that the same song you were singing in the home, just before you left?” I ask, listening carefully as he continues.
“Yeah. Been toying with it for a while, but ever since you came to the city, the lyrics have been ringing in my ears in stereo. It’s like they won’t leave me alone until they get my undivided attention.”
“They have, huh?” It sounds like what I experienced when I started writing about Sam and me.
“Uh-huh.”
“Will you sing it to me?”
His brows pull together, and he kisses me on the cheek. “Soon. I’m still tinkering with it.”
“Does this song have a title?”
“Yup,” he says, popping the P.
I wait a while for him to indulge me, but he doesn’t. “Um, are you at least gonna share it with me?”
Sam nods. “‘Small Town, Big Love’.”
He’s writing about us?
My heart pangs in my chest. “I love it.”
“I rang my manager, Stan, on the way out here yesterday. We talked about the album that I put on hold, and some ideas for a change in direction. I’m gonna get back into writing and, with any luck, get in the recording studio before too long. Being trapped inside my mind and body—I wanna channel all of that. Been thinking about getting some singing coaching too. Stan is pumped to get into it.”
“That’s incredible. I love that you’re taking the positives out of all of this. I know it’s been tough—well, I can’t really imagine what this whole thing has been like for you, but I’m so proud of you. You can be the voice for people who need encouragement. People need to know that they’re not the only ones going through something heartbreaking.”
Sam pushes out a heavy breath. “Talk of all this is why Ben has his nose out of joint. He says I’m ignoring the fundamental issue of my health and should be focusing on the here and now, not five steps ahead. He says my music can wait.”
“But can’t you do both?” I ask with a shrug.
“Exactly,” Sam says with emphasis on every syllable. “You know I had a quick chat to Shaun last night while you went for a walk.”
“Yeah?”
“Until the album gets out there and gains momentum, money is gonna be slow. Shaun teaches guitar four afternoons a week. When I told him I was keen to do something like that, he said he was looking to retire in a few years and wanted to slowly reduce his workload. Shaun is more than happy for me to take over some of his lessons when I move back here.”
He’s coming back? My heart swells with the news. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait for you to return.”
“Yeah, me too. And I was thinking I could try and get Ed back. I know it’s a long shot because he has a new family now, but I want to at least try. Do you think Butch could handle another boy around here?”
I chuckle, thinking of the two dogs together. “I think he’d love it. I have no doubt he’d happily take a partner in mischief. So long as there’s plenty of food to go around.”
A rap on the door startles me. “Um, guys?” Ben says.
“Yeah, bro,” Sam calls out in a husky morning voice. “We’re decent.”
The door opens revealing Ben in a fresh shirt and jeans, and with damp hair. “Hate to break it up in here, but I’m starving.”
“How about we go out for breaky?” I suggest. Because I get the feeling that I didn’t buy enough bacon and eggs to satisfy the sheriff’s appetite, let alone to cater for Sam and me.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Sam says, leaning up on his elbows. “Got something to celebrate anyhow.”
“Oh yeah?” Ben says. His eyes flit between us.
I shy away from his gaze and shift focus to Sam. Heat bursts into my cheeks. I bet my life that Ben is imagining us having sex. I’m sure he would have heard us anyway. Well, I was quiet. Sam not so much.
“I’ll be moving in with Janie,” Sam informs him. A mega-watt smile pulls up the corners of his mouth.
Ben crosses his arms beneath his chest, staring down his nose at his brother. His chest deflates as he forces a breath through his parted lips. “Bit premature, don’t you think?”
“It’s not like it’s happening tomorrow or anything. But as soon as I get the all-clear, this is where I wanna be.”
“Sure,” Ben says and huffs. “Can we eat?”
Sam grunts. “Yeah, ’kay. We’ll get up.”
Ben retreats and closes the door after him.
“I don’t wanna leave this very spot,” I say, and place a sloppy kiss to Sam’s shoulder.
A short, loud burst of noise beneath the sheets has me frozen in place. Did Sam just …?
A pungent smell wafts up my nostrils. Butch is nowhere in sight.
I cough and pinch the end of my nose. It’s coming from beneath the covers; I’m sure of it. “Oh my god, did you do that?” I say, and grill Sam with a look of disgust.
He chuckles and bites his lower lip. “Let’s just say I did you a favour.”
I throw back the sheets to try and release the trapped air. The smell somehow intensifies as it’s released into the room. “Favour? How is that helping me?”
“I saved you the embarrassment of being the first one of us to fart. No chick wants to be first.”
“Wow,” I say through a chuckle. “That’s how you’re justifying that?” I swat the air above us.
Sam coughs and laughs with me. “Yup. And you’re welcome, babe.”
I reach beside the bed and grab one of my decorative pillows and toss at him. “You’re too much.”
“Yeah, well I blame the soup.” Sam continues to cough until he takes a swig from the glass of water on my bedside table.
“I’ve got some medicine if you want something for that cough?”
“Nah, it’s nothing,” he says and waves it off.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You’ve likely got a few rogue fart particles trapped in your lungs.”
***
I’m glad I rang ahead to book a table at the Harvest café, because there isn’t an empty chair in sight. Willow Creek will remain in festival mode for the next few days at least, until the last of the visitors trail out of town.
The three of us sit on a small table on the sidewalk beside a portable gas heater which takes the edge off the cool breeze.
No matter how much I protest, when I go to place our order, Ben insists on paying. Something to do with my hospitality. He seems to be walking normally today, so he must’ve slept okay on the sofa bed.
Before too long, our coffees and three servings of the Harvest special breakfast arrive at our table. The sight of golden hash browns, crispy bacon, grilled tomatoes, and glossy scrambled eggs sends my mouth watering.
“Okay, I want everyone to hold hands first,” I say, reaching out to Ben and gripping Sam’s closest hand.
“What, like saying grace?” Ben asks, taking my hand and extending his free one towards his brother.
I glare at Sam until their hands join.
“No, like let’s make up. Time to bury the axe, hatchet, whatever. You two need to sort yourselves out. You’re brothers. Family. You have to work together.” I give each hand in mine a quick pump.
“We’re good?” Sam says in a gruff tone, looking at his brother with a touch of understanding in his gaze.
“Yeah. Good, brother,” Ben replies, with a nod and the makings of a smile.
“Great,” I say, as I gather my knife and fork and start cutting up Sam’s bacon. “Let’s eat.”
***
After brunch, we retreat back home. I get the feeling Sam is struggling energy wise, and I don’t want to push him. We snuggle on the couch and watch the Penrith Panthers and the West Tigers clash in a close game of rugby league. Not usually my thing, but it’s a fierce game. The Marshall brothers celebrate each Panthers’ point, and boo when the ref gets the call wrong. Amongst the yelling and cheering at the TV, the boys seem to have forgotten about their recent disagreement.
At the eightieth minute, the Panthers huddle
in celebration and Sam and Ben high-five each other. Butch runs around in circles and then starts humping Sam’s leg. We all laugh until we realise Butch is taking it a little too far.
“Whoa there, boy,” Sam says through a hearty chuckle as Butch thrusts at his ankle.
“How about I take this little fella for a walk, Jane?” Ben offers as he stands up. “I need to give the legs a stretch before the drive anyhow.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
***
No matter how long the weekend had stretched, it still wouldn’t have been enough time.
“We’d best get going,” Ben says. The smile from Sam’s face fades.
I help Sam to the car as Ben loads up their bags. I crouch at Sam’s open window and rest my forearms on the doorframe. “I’ll visit in a fortnight. Drive up early on the Saturday. It’s only thirteen days away.”
“What’re you gonna do this arvo?” Sam says, and curls his hand over my forearm.
“I have a beautiful love story to get back to.”
Sam puffs out his chest and smirks. “Inspired, huh?”
I laugh softly. “You have no idea. Text me when you get home?”
“You got it,” he says with a wink.
“Drive safe, guys. Be kind to one another.”
“Yeah, yeah,” they both drawl. Brothers.
I kiss Sam once more and wave them off, my heart fuller than it’s ever been.
It’s hard to believe that sometime soon, Sam is going to be living with me in my little shack in Willow Creek. Butch will be beside himself.
When I get back inside, I take a good look around. I need to get this place in order, make some cupboard space for Sam’s stuff. But first, I have a book to write. Between now and when I see Sam, I want to have made some real progress.
Four hours later when I’m nearing the end of another chapter, I get a text message.
Sam: I wanna come back
I want him back. More than anything.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Mondays suck,” I tell Butch when I finally get home at six-thirty.
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