Page 74 of Love Story

I’ve fucked this up.

I’ve fucked everything up.

I should’ve told him sooner.

I should’ve trusted him.

The four men did some complicated bro fist bump thing, then hugged.While they were trying to supporthim, their pointed glances atmemade it clear what they thought of me.

“Please.I’m sorry.”I don’t know if it was loud enough, but I meant it.Sam was leaving, and I would face whatever I was facing, and then I’d…

What?

What was left right now?Thirty-eight, miserable, regretting doing the right thing, wishing I’d never tasted love.

Sadness and loneliness… followed by being swallowed by a city that had already chewed me up and spat me out.Then they filed out of the hotel individually, but Sam didn’t go with them.I braced myself for him to tell me what he thought, ask for explanations, or just tell me to fuck off.He turned back to me, his expression unreadable, and my breath caught in my throat.

“Please don’t tell me to fuck off,” I whispered.

He frowned at me.“I want to talk,” he said, his voice steady.

Okay, I could do this.“Do you want to get a coffee?”

“No, let’s stay here.”

“Here?You want to talkhere?”I pointed at the carpet under my feet.

“Your room,” Sam said, his grip on my arm steady as he pulled me up the ramp.My heart raced as he called the elevator, his movements deliberate, and I struggled to read his expression, but it was impossible.His jaw was tight, his eyes focused ahead, and all I could do was follow his lead.

We stepped inside when the elevator doors slid open, glanced at the panel, then turned to me.“Floor?”

“Three,” I managed, my voice uneven.He nodded, pressing the button before stepping closer.

He backed me to the rail, his hands cradling my face.His thumbs brushed over my cheekbones as he tilted my head, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“I’llnevertell you to fuck off,” he murmured.

The weight of his words hit me harder than I expected, igniting a flicker of hope in my chest.I opened my mouth to respond, but the elevator stopped, the doors sliding open.In an instant, Sam moved away, his touch vanishing so quickly it felt as if it hadn’t happened at all.I followed him out, my mind spinning as I guided him to my room at the end of the corridor.The walk down the hallway felt endless, the silence thick with unspoken words.When we reached the door, I fumbled with the keycard, my hands trembling.The lock beeped, and I pushed the door open, stepping aside for Sam to enter first.

He walked in and sat on the desk chair; his posture stiff.“Okay, I’m listening,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

I hesitated for half a second before giving in and sinking onto the edge of the mattress.The door clicked shut behind me, and the small room felt smaller.The space between us was charged with tension.

“What made you run?”he asked.

“I didn’t run…”

“You left a note.”He pulled it out of his pocket, and I winced.“That’s all you could say?Sorry?You didn’t even add your name.What the hell does that even mean?”Sam raised an eyebrow as he waited for me to talk.

“I’m sorry I left.”

He rolled his eyes.“Well, that certainly has more syllables.”

“I want you to be happy,” I blurted.

“Happy was hiking to the lookout.With you.Happy was kissing, watching trash television, and showing you sugar on ice.That was happy.With.You.But you left—”

“I can’t bring my shit down on Caldwell Crossing,” I blurted.“I can’t do that to you, to anyone.”

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