Page 83 of The Backtrack
“What’s on there?” he asked while reaching for it. She tucked the pad of paper to her chest, though.
“You can have a look once you’ve seen a few more, otherwise the notes won’t make sense,” she said.
He sat back into the couch and centered the headphones over his ears. “Then let’s play the next one.”
Sam put the notebook aside, leaned over and hit Play.
Two hours later, he’d gotten through twelve tracks, with just one more song to go. They’d had to take breaks. Damon had excused himself to the bathroom at one point, emerging red-eyed and sniffling.
“It’s not real,” she offered, but knew what he was going through. The feeling that itwasreal, and was happening, made it hard to unsee.
Damon wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand as he sat down next to her. “Can I see your notes?”
She pulled the notebook out from behind the couch cushion where she’d hid it, and opened to the page with her thoughts.
“Sam and Damon’s Magical Playlist,” he said with a smile. The smile faded, though, as he scanned the songs.
“I’ve been taking notes on everything I saw. I’m not able to replay anything, so this is the only way to keep track of what happened to us.”
“We break up?” He’d jumped ahead to number thirteen. Of course he had. She should’ve thought to warn him.
“We do,” she said. “Theydo.”
Damon pushed himself off the couch and walked toward the back door. “Give me a minute,” he said without looking back. He went onto the porch, pushed his palms into the deck railing and hung his head.
Sam stood to follow, but stopped herself. He’d asked for a minute, and she’d give him that. One minute turned into several, and after a full ten, she decided she’d earned the right to check on him. She slid the door open, and he turned at the noise.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you in there like that,” Damon said. “I just feel overwhelmed by all of this.”
“Yeah.” She stood next to him. A big puffy white cloud blocked out the sun and shaded them, making the air unexpectedly cool. Damon pulled her into his side and attempted to warm her. He smoothed his hand up and down her arm.
“Well, the good news is you’re not making this up,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. “As you can imagine, there were times when I absolutely worried Pearl was spiking my food with hallucinogens.”
A minute, maybe more, passed. “So, we didn’t make it,” he eventually said.
“No,” she said, her voice low and hushed. “I really thought they would.”
“Myles would be thrilled with how things turned out.” Damon sighed. “He’s asked me for your number every time I’ve seen him. Who knew he had a big crush on you all these years.”
“Alt-Sam did.” Then she clarified, “That’s what I call the other Sam.”
“Ah, so then I’m Alt-Damon.”
“Or Emo Flame-Tipped Damon,” Sam joked. And at least this made Damon crack a smile. “Why do you think we’re being shown this?”
Damon looked at her through his dark lashes, so vulnerable and unsure. “I don’t know,” he said, then his jaw clenched.
But part of Sam already knew why they’d been shown the answer to her biggest what-if: so that there would be no gray area when it came to them. They weren’t meant to be together. Even if she did want to be with him, she’d seen what happened when she wasn’t living her life’s purpose. What happened to Leto women, in general, when they felt stuck. And while she might be a little in love with Damon, their lives were just too different. Nothing would change that.
“Maybe the visions are just telling us the truth.” She looked at Damon. “We aren’t meant to be together, in that timeline or this one.”
Sam swallowed down the sick feeling, pushed off the porch railing and turned to head back inside. She’d quickly get her things and leave before she started to cry.
“Sam, stop.” The tone of Damon’s voicedidstop her. And when she saw his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths, his shoulders tense and the way he looked at her, like she was the last life raft on a sinking ship—that stopped her, too.
“What is there left to say?” Her voice was so stoic she barely recognized it.
