Page 6 of Samuel's Heart

“Give me your details and I’ll contact you when I know more.”

He doesn’t give me his number, probably afraid I’ll stalk him, and he’s probably right.

Once my number is saved in his phone, he stands and gives me a quick glance, and it’s clear he’s still unsure about his offer.

“I have to go. I’ll call you.” With a nod, he’s gone.

I watch him walk away and wonder if he’s really going to call me. Only then, the fact we didn’t exchange names leaves me a little less hopeful about his offer to help.

I’ll be back here next week if I don’t hear from him, because that’s the only thing Icando, so maybe I’ll spot him again. Or I can follow him now, and ask.

I’m on my feet and walking towards the way he went, and I’m glad when I spot him a few steps in front of me. Only then do I notice the way he walks and the way his body is hunched in on itself, and my heart goes out to him as if his pain is mine.

“Hey,” I say when I reach him.

It seems he turns around too quickly because he loses his balance, but I keep him upright without a problem.

“Sorry for spooking you. I wanted to ask for your name. Mine is Rory Jones.” I extend my hand, waiting for him to take it. He looks at me for a while, and just when I’m ready to pull it back, he reaches out.

“Samuel Walker.”

We shake hands, but he’s quick to pull back.

“I need to go,” he says, looking at his watch, and then the door.

I’m not sure whether it’s a way to get rid of me or not, but I don’t have anything more to say that will keep him here and convince him to help.

“Thank you. Bye,” I say, before turning around and going back to the coffee shop. I don’t want him to think I’m following him, even if the temptation is huge. I have to trust he’ll call.

I’ll be waiting.

Chapter Three

Samuel

What the fuck was I thinking?

A week has passed already, and I haven’t done anything but mull over this question without finding an answer.

Okay, I didn’t intend this kind of help when I first offered, but the second time I can’t blame misunderstanding. Ididoffer to help him.

How can I, a policeman, offer to break the law to help someone I don’t even know—or anyone, for that matter?

What the hell pushed me to help him?

What the fuck was I thinking?

I probably wasn’t. And when I don’t think things through, these are the results. I freeze, I’m kidnapped, or apparently, I agree to break the law.

I push away the reminder of my failure, the one I can’t get over, and pick up the phone to call one of my mates at the station. Before calling for help, I need to know if Rory is legit, and if I can trust Henry at the station to check without trouble. I need to know he wasn’t the one that caused the accident because of some reckless behaviour, and most of all, I need to know that Rory and John were really an item.

It would be silly of me to trust someone I don’t know just because of a pain similar to mine and a few tears.

“Hey, man,” I say, when the line engages and Henry’s voice on the other end greets me.

“Samuel, how are you?”

“Getting there. Slow but steady.”

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