Page 21 of Of Heather and Thistle
His smirk faltered. “I just don’t think we need to do this.” A slow wave of unease crept over her skin. “Dowhat?”
Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair.“Heather—”He leaned in again, his lips hovering just above hers, his breath warm against her skin.
“No,” she cut in, the remnants of warmth still clinging to her skin now turning cold. “Don’tHeatherme. Just say it.”
His jaw tightened. “It’s not what you think.”
Her stomach twisted. “Thenwhat is it?”
Sam let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re overreacting.”
Heather’s eyes flashed.Hewas the one acting weird,hewas the one hedging, butshewas the dramatic one?
“I wouldn’t have to ask if you’d just tell me what’s going on instead of dancing around it,” she snapped.
Tension crackled between them like a live wire. Just minutes ago, this space between them had beenelectric, pulling them together like a force she couldn’t fight. Now it felt suffocating.
She sat back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, grounding herself.Steady.
“Tell me the truth.”
Sam hesitated. And then—
Hesnapped.
“You wanna know?Fine!” His voice sliced through the quiet. “Ivy and I were talking the other day, and shesuggested—”
Her stomach dropped.
The air turned cold.
“Ivy suggested?” she repeated, her voice like broken glass.
The room spun—memory slamming into place. Ivy, rolling her eyes:“He’s never spoken to me.”
But he had.
She lied.
Heather felt her breath lock in her throat, her skin turningto ice. Sam reached for her then—maybe to reassure her, maybe to soften the blow, maybe just out of habit. But the second his fingers brushed her arm, sheflinched. Sam went still. Heather forced herself to look at him, even as her vision blurred at the edges, even as the truth ripped through her like a knife.
“Ivy suggested?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, dangerously quiet. Sam didn’t speak. Not right away. And that was enough. Heather swallowed hard, her pulse roaring in her ears. Heather shook her head, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “So this wasn’t evenyouridea?”
Sam exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples like she was the one exhausting him. “You’re twisting this.”
Heather let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’mtwistingthis? You just admitted mybest friendpimped me out like some social experiment, andI’mthe one twisting it?”
His jaw clenched, his frustration slipping through the cracks. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it, Sam?”
He raked a hand through his hair, his voice sharper now: “Damn it, Heather, you act like Ihatedthe idea. Like I had to beforcedto take you out.”
The words landed like a slap. Heather’s chest tightened, her breath hitching.
“Wow.” She pushed to her feet, putting space between them.
Sam must have realized what he just said, because his eyes flickered with instant regret.
