Page 22 of Of Heather and Thistle
“Heather, I didn’t mean—”
“No, you did… That’s the thing, Sam… Youdidmean it.”
His hands flexed, tension rippling through him as he leaned forward, settling on the edge of the couch. Hegripped his hips like he was barely holding himself together.
“I—Shit, Heather! …Yeah, Ivy suggested it. …Yeah, I said yes. …But I didn’t do itout of pity!I did it because I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling harshly with his gaze snapping up to hers. .
Heather stepped closer, her voice quieter but razor-sharp.
“Because you thoughtwhat, Sam?”
His eyes met hers, something raw and conflicted flickering in them before he scoffed, shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Her heart cracked, her pulse roaring in her ears.
“Itdoesmatter.”
Sam’s expression hardened, but guilt still tugged at the edges.
“Ilikedyou, Heather.” His voice was rough, like the words cost him something. “…not just because Ivy told me to. …notjustbecause of her.” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Hell… if I had a brain, I would’ve realized she wasusingme just as much as I was using you.”
Heather swallowed, her throat tight. She suddenly felt like a stranger in her own skin—dressed in Ivy’s clothes, painted in Ivy’s colors, like she had stepped into a role she hadn’t even auditioned for. The realization curled in her stomach.
“But you didn’t have a brain.”
Sam shook his head.
“No. I didn’t.”
His eyes searched hers, desperate now.
“But then I got toknowyou, and I—”
Heather flinched back as if he’d touched her, holding up a hand.
“Don’t.”
His mouth clamped shut.
Heather let out a shaky breath, anger and heartbreak swirling together into something unbearable. The last time she had felt like this, she was standing over her father’s grave, realizing closure would never come. Looking in the mirror, wearing Ivy’s choices instead of her own. Always playing a role, always adjusting to keep people happy.
“You don’t get tofindsomething real in this and expect that to undo what you did, Sam. You don’t get to pretend this was amistakethat just… happened.”
Sam’s face twisted, frustration and regret warring in his expression.
“It wasn’t—”
“—Yes, it was.” Heather’s voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “You used me. She used you. And I’m the only one who didn’t know I was playing a game.”
Sam took a step toward her, but she held her ground.
She crossed her arms, her voice trembling as she pressed him.
“So, what is this really, Sam? Yours and Ivy’s idea of a joke? A charity case? Or—”
Her stomach twisted as the worst possibility came to mind. Sam’s jaw tensed, his gaze darting away from hers.
