Page 87 of Unnatural
Sam felt lost. He didn’t know how to play. He began walking, and Eddie’s giggles rang out, unceasing. Sam had the urge to laugh too at the blatant ridiculousness of this. There was a small boy clinging to his leg.
Harper came out the door. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry. Eddie—”
“Eddie?” Sam cut in. “No, I haven’t seen Eddie. Maybe he’s inside.” Muffled laughter against his knee.
Harper’s eyes danced. “That’s so weird, because I didn’t see him inside. You’re sure you haven’t seen him?”
“Nope. I have no idea where he might be. It’s just me out here. Me and the growth on my leg.”
“Oh. Yes, that’s quite the situation there. Does it bother you?”
“Only when I’m trying to sleep,” he said. His belly felt warm. Maybe hecouldbe like Jak. Sort of. At least a little. And that was better than nothing, right?
“Okay then,” she said, taking a seat on one of the chairs that flanked a dining table, under a large tree whose branches overhung the deck. “I guess I’ll just wait here and see if he shows up.”
“Sounds good,” Sam said, pacing the edge of the deck once and then again, the muffled laughter continuing. He suddenly didn’t feel like such a monster, but even so, he acted as if he was one, holding his arms out, and walking with a staggering gait, groaning hideously. Back and forth he walked, his groan turning into a smile. The little boy laughed so hard, he lost his grip, slipping down Sam’s leg and falling to the deck.
Sam bent down and picked him up, delivering him to his mother where she sat laughing too, one hand on her pregnant belly. Sam glanced to his left where Autumn sat watching through the window, a dreamy smile on her face, her eyes swimming with tears.
His stomach dropped, misery descending, at the pure joy on her face.
Joy for what she obviously wanted. Something she could only get from a different man.One who was fully human and not mostly monster.
Joy for what she’d never have. Not if she hung her hopes on him.
And really, all that was the least of their problems.
He muttered something to Harper, turning and descending the stairs quickly, hurrying through the yard and onto the path that meandered along the water, walking until his lungs burned, but his breath came easier.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The full moon outside the bedroom window glowed, casting a pale silvery glimmer through the opaque curtains. Autumnhadn’t pulled the shades. There was no house directly across the way from which they might want privacy, and she preferred to wake with the sun.
And gaze at the moon.
She turned, her moonlight boy’s hair as silver as the moonglow. She reached over and ran a finger over his silken hair and down his scratchy cheek. He murmured in his sleep, something unintelligible, and her heart squeezed with love.Sweet, broken man.His emotions seemed to exist on a roller coaster. Almost content one moment and then deeply distressed the next. Autumn wondered if he realized that part of his turmoil was that he was grieving for the old man named Adam. And of course, that emotion was only compounded by his guilt and his self-hatred. Thank God for Harper, there to give her an encouraging nod when Sam suddenly bolted, disappearing for hours and then returning, sweaty and morose.
Autumn wanted so badly to help him, but she could only love him. And she’d do that fiercely.
As long as he’d let her.
He murmured the word Macau again. He’d said that same word in his sleep before. Was it a place? A person? His murmuring became louder. He sounded so upset, his expression distraught. She wanted to let him sleep, but she also so badly wanted to comfort him. “Sam,” she whispered, laying her hand on his shoulder.
He whimpered, thrashing his head, suddenly bolting up and turning toward her, his hands rising as though he was fending off an attack.
“Sam,” she said again, a note of fear in her hushed voice this time. “Sam, it’s me.”
He let out a groan, collapsing back to the pillow, his forehead glistening with perspiration. “Autumn,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She turned to him, bringing her palm to his cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Sam. Nothing.” For several moments, she simply soothed him, running her hand along his cheek, his damp forehead, over his hair. She leaned over and kissed his shoulder, wrapping her arm around him and holding him close. “Tell me about Macau,” she said softly.
If she hadn’t felt his muscles tighten, she might have thought he didn’t hear her. But they had, so she waited for him to speak.
The curtains rustled in the light breeze coming through the slip of the open window. It was cold outside but warm under the heavy blankets, and Sam was like a personal heater, warmth emanating from his large body. The house was quiet around them, only the distant hoot of an owl and the soft sounds of the water kissing the shore beyond. The room felt dreamy, intimate, almost unreal. And maybe because of it, Sam would find it safe to open up to her about the thingsthat haunted his dreams.
“I was sent to kill a man in Macau,” he said very quietly.
A shiver of dread moved through her. He’d been sent to take a life. Just like Amon. “Who?” she whispered.
