Page 46 of Samuel's Heart

“Hey, wait.” Samuel’s voice penetrates my brain, as if I’m already attuned to it. This is bad, and it feels like I’m forgetting John because I’ve found someone else who’s gentle enough not to make me feel like I’m garbage.

“Don’t worry. You have guests, so take care of them,” I say, finding the courage to look him in the eye. I freeze when his hand grips my wrist and stops me from walking out.

“Stay,” he says, pulling me backwards.

I glance at everyone, and they’re looking at us like we’re the next best show in town.

“Yes, stay,” Jason says, when he sees Samuel’s not letting me go.

And I probably look like a spooked animal.

I glance at Samuel, and he’s still looking at me. There is something there, something I can grasp.

Is that a pleading look in his eyes?

That thought has me taking a few steps back into the room, and Samuel’s expression relaxes just a tad.

“Have you got any tea in this house?” Martin’s voice breaks the awkward moment.

“You know very well that’s the only thing I have in this house,” Samuel says while walking towards Martin, bringing me in tow because his hand is still around my wrist.

I go willingly because I don’t want him to let me go.

John, can I forget for a moment? Can I, for a moment, just one moment, live, instead of stagnating?

My eyes are watering, and I try to blink them back away, because this is not the right time or place to have a breakdown because you are cheating on your dead boyfriend.

I bump into someone, and Samuel’s hand is gone, and the loss is an echo inside of me. But then arms are encircling me, pulling me against a broad chest. And, after, Samuel’s voice in my ear, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of my blood rushing.

“Are you okay?” His breath washes over my face, flooring me to the moment, and I grip him as if I need to be saved.

“I’m okay,” I reply after a few moments.

The room is silent when I finally return to it. I look around and everyone but Jason is sitting on the sofa. Even though we’re so close to them, it feels like we’re alone because no one is looking at us, no one is prying at this moment.

We hear movement in the kitchen, and we move over there to find Jason cleaning up the table while trying to keep things as we left it.

“Sorry to have invaded like this,” he says.

“You never do. I’m always happy to have you around,” Samuel replies with a smile.

There are so many facets to him, and it feels like I witness something new every time. Today there is a gentleness that is hidden behind a wall most of the time, and I like it. It’s as though he’s trying to be someone he’s not.

Why?

“Let me get this out of the way,” Samuel says, taking the pile of documents away. He walks out of the kitchen, leaving me with a very curious man—if I’m correctly interpreting the pointed look he’s giving me.

“Who are you?” The gentleness he had a moment ago with Samuel has left. Now, the worried friend has made an appearance.

Unless they are more than friends.

“Are you an item?” The question coming out of my mouth surprises us both.

Jason is the first to recover, and his laugh is loud and genuine. The sound has relief spreading through me like oil. That’s until I hear footsteps—a lot of them—coming towards the kitchen.

“Please . . .” I say to him, and his gaze takes the same gentle look Samuel had earlier.

“What’s happening?” Martin asks.

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