Page 45 of His Dark Vices

There was shame in his eyes, too, not just sadness when I left.

That's why he couldn't help that snarky remark about my family.

I groan and roll onto my stomach, then pull my laptop toward me. Marj and Frank. I don't know if they're married, but I'm betting at least the dad shares Sam's last name. I type their names into the search engine, wondering if there's anything online about them, all the while battling the regret clawing through me.

Thanks to me, Sam has even more crap to deal with besides his trainwreck parents. But even thinking that feels like a betrayal against myself. Didn't he severely violate my trust, my privacy? How am I supposed to make sense of that?

I groan into the silence of my room, long and loud, unsure of what I'm supposed to think or feel.

For now, Marj and Frank will be my focus, just until I can get their story. Something didn't feel right about leaving Sam alone with them.

I can't help myself—I'm worried.

Nothing comes up with their names alone since they're so common. I have to get much more specific, mixing and matching keywords and locations until something useful finally pops up.

A mug shot, one each for Frank Green and Marjorie Green, same day. That leads me to look up their public records, and sure enough, the reason Sam had to cancel on me all of a sudden is because they just got out of prison, both for good behavior. Ten years ago, they were sentenced for getting caught robbing someone's house—again.

That makes sense. Companion took off while they were in prison. And now they're back to get what they're owed. Even if Sam doesn't owe them shit.

Ten years ago… so Sam was still in high school when they got locked up.

Poor Sam. He's been all this time without family.

Wait, has he? He's never mentioned an aunt or uncle, and I haven't pried.

Maybe I should have tried a little harder.

I shove my laptop away and stretch out.

There's so much I want to say to him, so much I feel like I need to do. I'm not worried they'll rob him or hurt him physically. But I am worried about the amount of control they have over him. He was clearly uncomfortable with them being around. Is he able to say no to them? What if they're back to take advantage of him?

I can't leave him to handle that alone. I don't think he can.

But what can I do?

"I need to talk to Sam," I reply to myself out loud.

It starts there. I need to know what he's feeling about all of this, why they're even around.

And I need to clear up this Companion shit, too.

I'm covered in sweat, heart pounding, and every breath I take stings my lungs. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. I've already been hanging on for too long. I have to press on. But do I have the strength? My muscles are screaming for me to stop, as they have been, but just a little longer, a bit more.

No, that's it. I'm done for.

I slow to a stop on a Shady Park trail and try to catch my breath, the cold air stinging me from inside. But it feels good. For the first time in too long, it feels like, my mind is blank, settled, distracted by my body's concerted effort to complain to me—I haven't been jogging as much as I used to.

And I've missed it. Between Sam and work, I haven't had time for myself. I need to make this a priority again.

For like the third time this morning, I check my wrist—Companion isn't there. I left it at home. We need a little time apart.

Just like me and Sam.

As soon as I think about him, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It's a long one—I'm getting a call. I fish it quickly out and look at the screen, my heart leaping in my chest.

But it's just Danica, my editor.

Talk about disappointing.

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