Page 73 of The Backtrack
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”
She brushed her teeth, took a quick shower, slipped into his T-shirt and boxers, then came out, and Damon was there, just as he said he’d be. He pulled back the covers of his bed, and she crawled under the comforter. He lay next to her. She grabbed his hand and wrapped it around her waist so he was spooning her. His chin rested above her head on the pillow. His chest rose and fell behind her, and the rhythm of him made her close her eyes.
Sam woke up alone, but the note on the pillow next to her relayed that breakfast would be waiting. She hadn’t slept so well in weeks and allowed herself a long and indulgent stretch under the covers. Eventually, her stomach made a disgruntled noise, and because hangry Sam wasn’t a pleasant one, she threw off the covers and got up.
She’d expected to look in the bathroom mirror and discover a sea witch, but it was kind of amazing what lots of sleep could do. Her eyes were bright, the puffy bags were nearly gone, her skin had cleared and her hair had a natural beachy wave from how she’d fallen asleep on it while damp. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say she looked well rested. Like her trip to Tybee had accidentally turned into the kind of vacation Rachel wanted for her.
Sam opened the bedroom door and peered out. Damon was at the kitchen stove and, judging by the smell in the room, working on bacon. She’d just woken up in Damon’s house, and now he was making her breakfast. This would almost feel like they were a couple, if she hadn’t had to ask him to cuddle her.
“I don’t suppose you make coffee, too?” Sam ran a hand through her hair.
Damon turned. “My Keurig can.” He pointed to the sleek machine in the corner of the kitchen, took out a pod and popped it in. The machine whirred to life and he grabbed a branded Band Practice Brews mug from the cabinet. “How’d you sleep?”
Sam sidled onto the bar stool at the kitchen counter and propped her elbows up. “How didyousleep? I hope you didn’t mind me using you as a human body pillow,” she joked.
“I didn’t mind.” Damon picked up the coffee cup and put it in front of Sam. His eyes locked on to hers and she couldn’t look away, not even if she tried. Eventually, he grabbed a carton of milk and she poured in a few glugs, then sipped.
Damon brought over two plates loaded with bacon, eggs and toast, then sat on the bar stool next to her. He took a deep breath, then turned to face her. She did the same, and their knees touched, but he didn’t move away so neither did she.
“Should we talk about what happened the other day?” he eventually said.
“We should.” Though Sam had no idea where to start.
“I know we joke around a lot, but that was a big deal,” Damon added.
Thethatwas sex, Sam knew, and the fact that they’d leaped from childhood friends to adults who had sexwasa big deal. In that what they’d done hadn’t been meaningless. Not a one-night fling they could occasionally remember and just as easily forget. They weren’t nothing to each other, and now they were closer in a way they’d never been.
“Right,” she acknowledged. Still, Sam knew through her bones that their situation wasn’t clear. If it had been, they wouldn’t be shuffling around the subject like two kids at a middle school dance. “But you live here, and I’m in Paris. And we both have these super busy jobs.”
“Yeah, we do,” Damon quickly said. He waited for her to say more, but she couldn’t say the wordsI’m afraid this won’t work. Eventually, he said them for her. “So maybe we’ll just kind of treat this as it is, then. You’re here now, and we have time to be together. But when you leave...”
We will be over, Sam finished the thought in her head. All of that made sense, logically. She’d basically made the argument herself. So why did she feel so disappointed?
His free hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leaned her cheek against his open palm. He bent toward her, and she tilted her chin up. Damon closed his eyes, and she closed hers, and their lips met for a kiss that rolled through like a silky wave. His fingers squeezed hers as he pulled her in close. And then he stood and lifted her off the chair, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
He brought her to his bedroom. All they had was the time she would spend in Tybee, nothing more. They had to make every minute count. And as the too-bright morning light streamed in through the curtains to reveal the painful truth of the present, their bodies crashed and rocked together as smoothly as they had the day before.
31
Later that morning, Damon drove Sam back to Grandma Pearl’s. Just yesterday, she’d made this ride with him, but now she wrapped her arms tighter because she knew there was a clock ticking down the minutes on their time together.
As they stopped at a red light, Damon lifted one hand off the handle and put it on top of her own clasped hands, as if he wanted to savor what they had, too.
When they pulled up to the house, Grandma Pearl and Jessie were out on the front lawn, sitting in metal chairs with big sunglasses on and a beer for each of them.
Damon killed the engine and flipped the kickstand out. As she got off the bike, she peeled off the helmet and squinted at the two women. “Little early for beer, isn’t it?” Sam called out.
Pearl startled, as if she hadn’t even heard the motorcycle and was only now registering that Sam was even there. “The power is still out. If we don’t drink the beer now, it’ll get lukewarm.”
Sam laughed at that.
Damon lifted the face shield of his helmet, then said, “You sure it’s okay if I head to the brewery? I want to make sure the generator’s still working.”
She knew that if she asked, Damon would stay. And while she wouldn’t mind having him around to deal with the fallout, she also knew he’d come running back if she really needed him.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Keep me posted.”
