Page 64 of Samuel's Heart

He leans closer, gripping my thigh tighter, and when our lips meet, I take possession. My need for him grows with every passage of my tongue over his lips, and with every new moan coming out of him.

But . . .should I be doing this with him?Is it a good idea to start something when there is so much he doesn’t know about me?

But the main question is . . .Am I ready to open up to him?

My answer surprises me, becauseyes, I’m ready to share everything with him. How did we become this close in just a couple of months?

Am I ready to do something about moving on, like Ro is doing? Am I ready to face Lucy and Daniel? Am I ready to face my past and the mistakes I made?

Am I?I’m not sure.

Isn’t that reason enough for me not to start anything with him?

I pull back, lost in my mind again.

“Is everything okay?” Rory says, placing a hand on my neck, as if afraid I’ll walk away from him.

“No.” But then I fall silent because I’m not sure what to say. Because while I’m ready to share, I’m not ready to see him walk away from me when I admit I won’t be able to do anything to free myself from the weight of my sins.

I’m not as brave as he is. I won’t be able to walk up to Lucy and Daniel and plead with them to forgive me for what I did.

“What’s wrong?” he says, pulling away from me, but I stop him by taking his hand.

“I have something to tell you. You’ll probably leave after I’m done, but I can’t keep going on like this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

How can he be so sure?

“I’m a coward.” The word falls out of my mouth, leaving Rory stunned by my outburst.

He looks at me for a while, maybe trying to understand where my words are coming from.

“I’ve never thought of you as a coward,” he says, and then continues. “What I think you are is brave, kind, and caring.You’re a rock who allows people to rely on you. You give comfort and hope. This is what you gave me, too.” He looks at me and blushes a bit, as though he’d said something he didn’t want to say.

“A person who killed someone is nothing close to what you just said.”

“Did . . .” He stops as if uncertain of what or how to ask.

“My impulsive actions killed my partner.”

“Are you referring to what happened when you were starting out in the police force?”

This time it’s me looking at him, stunned. How does he know?

“I read an article after we met. I needed to know who you were and if I could trust you.”

I never read the news about what happened, because no one knew more than me about what went down in the alley that day. Only those who interviewed me know what happened, and it never left those walls.

“I’m not sure what you read was the truth.”

“Then tell me your truth. And I can promise you I’ll be here after you are done.”

The same recurring question I’ve had since I met him fills my mind. Why does he affect me this much? What is it about him that pulls at my strings and makes me think I can be a better man? How is it he makes me believe I’m perfect the way I am? That what I’ve done is something I can move on from?

I can only trust him and believe what he says. Even if I’m sure that by the time I’m done, he will no longer see me as the sameman he believes me to be right now. I take a deep breath and start from the beginning of the day that changed my life forever.

“There was a gang fight, and we were asked to intervene. When we got there, one of the people involved was threatening the others with a knife. As soon as he saw us, he ran away. We couldn’t follow by car, so we jumped out and pursued him on foot.” I take another deep breath to calm my heart. It’s beating so fast I’m afraid it’s going to jump out of my chest.

---