Page 56 of Samuel's Heart

“Are you okay? Shall I call the police?”

I smile at him and shake my head. “He’s with me,” I say, turning back to him.

I push away thoughts of needing to say goodbye to John before doing anything with anyone else. Seriously, I mean.

“Ah, I see,” he says, elbowing me as if implying there’s something between us.

I force my face to stay straight, and not blush, because I don’t want to give away how affected I am by his presence.

“Yeah, we work together.” It’s better to maintain a lie than create more of them.

“He can join us if he wants.”

I turn around, but Samuel is already shaking his head. I’m surprised. What if I need him close? What if I lose my shit and cry while the man tells me his story?

Samuel seems to read me, because he takes a step forward, and then another, until he’s so close I can smell his aftershave. Visions spring to mind at his scent. Us on the sofa after his friends left, his hands and mouth on me, and then cuddling with his body engulfing mine, keeping me close. I can’t stop the blush from taking over my face and ears, and I drop my chin on my chest to avoid everyone seeing the mess I am.

“Sure, I’m happy to listen, too. Let me buy the coffee,” he says, placing himself between me and the other man. Trying to protect me—again.

I love . . . Oh my God . . .It’s not love, it’slike. I like him. Yep, like, like, like.

“I’ll go buy the coffee,” I say, because I need to be away from him right now. I need to find my cool, and stop this nonsense of thinking I’m in love with someone I barely know. Someone who’s helping me find pieces of my ex-boyfriend.

I’m walking away before either of them can reply, but Samuel’s gaze is still on me, following me, maybe trying to understand what happened just with a look. I’m never going to tell him.

When I’m back with the coffee, they’re sitting at a picnic table, facing each other. I wonder if I should sit next to Joseph so I can avoid being too close to Samuel. But it wouldn’t look good if Isat next to a stranger instead of the man I just confirmed I was friends with.

I place the cups in front of them and then put down the sugar, milk, and sticks. Only once I was queuing, did I realise I didn’t ask what they wanted.

“I’ve—”

“Thank you,” they say at the same time, each reaching out to pick a cup. Samuel, as usual, only adds sugar. Coffee, dark and sweet, a bit like him.

When I come back, I’ve got my feelings under control, or at least more so than before. If we weren’t here, I would have taken the time and walked away from Samuel, until I had my feelings cleared inside myself.

It’s not possible for what I’m feeling to be love. It’s probably respect, admiration, and like. Yes, that must be it. I can’t be in love with Samuel. I shake my head and focus my attention on the other two men.

“Are you okay?” Samuel’s voice washes over me like a caress and has me shivering.

“I’m good, thanks.” But my voice comes out groggy, probably because I’m still trying to get hold of my emotions.

“This coffee is really good. But what I love the most here is the view and the smells. I’m lucky enough to live in a place where you can still enjoy the scent of nature.”

“This place is beautiful,” I say, and I get a smiling nod from the man.

“My name is Rory, and this broody man is Samuel.”

“My name is Joseph.”

“Nice to meet you. How long have you lived here?”

“All my life. Even if my life wasn’t as good as it is now.” Joseph’s facial expression shows pain at the thought of the past.

“I was always a sickly kid, and I couldn’t do everything other people my age could do. I couldn’t run as fast or as long as they did, and in the end, I was always left behind.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been hard as a youngster.” There is nothing more I can say.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I had friends and a loving family. But you know when you’re young you want to be out, to play and do all those fun things others do. After a while, I started having problems, getting one infection after another that caused damage to my lungs. I ended up needing to be attached to the oxygen tank twenty-four seven. It was gradual, but I had to live like this for four years. Then, two years ago, I received the most precious gift I could have hoped for. A new set of lungs—the miracle I’d been praying for. After the operation, I was able to live a normal life and do things I could no longer do, and even some I never could.”

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