Page 39 of Still Me
I tried not to look startled.
He rubbed at his face. “Since I’ve been back I find myself assessing situations as we go in... differently, trying to work out exit routes, potential sources of trouble. Even when there’s no reason to.”
“You’re frightened?”
“Yeah. Me.” He laughed drily, and shook his head. “They’ve offered me counseling. Oh, I know the drill from when I was in the army. Talk it through, understand it’s your mind’s way of processing what happened. I know it all. But it’s disconcerting.” He rolled onto his back. “To tell you the truth, I don’t feel like myself.”
I waited.
“That’s why it hit so hard when Donna left because... because I knew she’d always look out for me.”
“But this new partner will look out for you, surely. What’s her name?”
“Katie.”
“Katie will look out for you. I mean, she’s experienced, and you guys must be trained to take care of each other, right?”
His gaze slid toward me.
“You won’t be shot again, Sam. Iknowyou won’t.”
Afterward I realized it was a stupid thing to say. I’d said it because I couldn’t bear the idea of him being unhappy. I’d said it because I wanted it to be true.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, quietly.
I felt as if I’d failed him. I wondered how long he’d wanted to tell me that. We lay there for a while. I ran a finger lightly along his arm, trying to work out what to say.
“You?” he murmured.
“Me what?”
“Tell me something I don’t know. About you.”
I was going to tell him he knew all the important stuff. I was going to be my New York self, full of life, go-getting, impenetrable. I was going to say something to make him laugh. But he had told me his truth.
I turned so that I was facing him. “There is one thing. But I don’t want you to see me differently. If I tell you.”
He frowned.
“It’s something that happened a long time ago. But you told me a thing. So I’m going to do the same.” I took a breath then and told him. I told him the story I had only ever told Will, a man who had listened and then released me from the hold it had had over me. I told Sam the story of a girl who, ten years previously, had drunk too much and smoked too much and found to her cost that just because a gang of boys came from good families it didn’t make them good. I told it in a calm voice, a little detached. These days it didn’t really feel like it had happened to me, after all. Sam listened in the near dark, his eyes on mine, saying nothing.
“It’s one of the reasons coming to New York and doing this was so important to me. I boxed myself in for years, Sam. I told myself that was what I needed to feel safe. And now... well, now I guess I need to push myself. I need to know what I’m capable of if I stop looking down.”
When I had finished he was silent for a long time, long enough that I had a momentary doubt as to whether I should have told him at all. But he reached out a hand and stroked my hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I’d been there to protect you. I wish—”
“It’s fine,” I said. “It was a long time ago.”
“It’s not fine.” He pulled me to him. I rested my head against his chest, absorbing the steady beat of his heart.
“Just, you know, don’t look at me differently,” I whispered.
“I can’t help looking at you differently.”
I tilted my head so that I could see him.
“Only in that I think you’re even more amazing,” he said, and his arms closed around me. “On top of all the other reasons to love you, you’re brave, and strong, and you just reminded me... we all have our hurdles. I’ll get over mine. But I promise you, Louisa Clark.” His voice, when it came, was low and tender. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.”
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