Page 41 of The Love You Fight For
“I can’t, Lennon,” I whisper. “God, I fucking want to, but I can’t.”
I drop my forehead into my palms and breathe through my nose, willing the tears to retreat. I detest crying. It hurts. I don’t need anything else to hurt.
“Sam... when you come back from D.C. these days...” Lennon hesitates and squeezes my hand. “When you come back, you’reangrier. You’re more agitated. You laugh less. You have these shadows under your eyes that just won’t clear. It’s like that place is sucking your soul from your body.”
I laugh sardonically because she couldn’t be more right.
It is. Itissucking my soul from my body. It’s taking every shred of decency I’ve managed to cultivate in my twenty-six years of life, and it’s poisoning all of it. I keep telling myself to stick to it. To stay focused. To stay the course. But what if I fucking ruin myself in the process? What if my lies catch up to me, and I become just as black as the rest of them?
Or worse. What if it all blows up in my face?
If Lennon knew the extent of it, she’d ask if it was worth it, and the sickest part of it all is that I truly believe it is.
Flaying strips from my soul is a small price to pay if it all works out.
If.
I clear my throat and force a smile, sitting up straight. I let go of Lennon’s hand so I can reach into my handbag. I pull out a compact mirror and my lipstick, and she watches silently as I fix my eyeliner and apply a fresh coat of red.
“The offer stands,” Lennon says firmly, a hint of defeat in her voice. “It doesn’t matter what it is. You can tell me, and I will be here. I will always be here.”
I nod.
I know, and that’s exactly why I don’t tell her. If I tell her everything, that puts her at risk. If I tell her everything and fail...
I don’t want to think about the consequences and how they could affect her. I’ve got enough pressure on me right now. I cannot have Lennon on my conscience, too.
“How’s Evie doing?” I ask, changing the subject, and like the fucking saint that she is, Lennon plays along.
TWELVE
The notewith Sam’s perfect lip print sits in my wallet, burning a hole through my jeans as I try to work.
I knew she would be gone when I got back. It didn’t surprise me.
What does surprise me is the sting that comes after more than a week without a word from her. It brings me back to that night in my truck. The way she disappeared after. It brings me back to Sable’s words. It doesn’t matter how glad I am that my ex didn’t say yes when I proposed, her reasoning still fucks with my head.
Not good enough. Too blue collar. Too small town.
Knowing Samantha Harper, she’s probably thinking the same thing, and I shouldn’t fucking care so much, but I do.
I replay my night with her over and over, pulling me away from work. From conversations. From everything. What was supposed to be a single night to finish what we started last year has instead turned into some distraction under my skin.
That night with Sam in my truck, I thought I glimpsed something in her. Something uninhibited and wild. Some fire that she keeps tamed for everyone else. Different than the rebellious girl I knew in high school and completely opposite from the conceited royal I barely know these days. Ifeltit, but she doused it quickly, and then she ghosted me.
After a while, I just assumed it didn’t exist. I’d imagined it thanks to cheap wine and lust.
But in my house the other weekend?
I know that wasn’t my imagination. I watched the ice thaw around the princess. I saw someone else entirely come out from behind her perfect mask. It’s as unsettling as it is exciting.
She’s usually untouchable, unfeeling, but for one night, she was malleable and eager, responsive and soft under my lips and palms. The way she sounded when she came. The rapture on her face. The perfect princess was made mortal, and it was addictive to watch. I want more of it. I want to see if I can do it again.
Does she have everyone fooled? Which Sam is the real Sam?
Perfectly polished and cold as ice, or wild, free, and hot as hellfire?
It’s hard to believe both women can reside in the same body, and I can’t help but obsesses over it. I’ve always loved puzzles. I’m a fixer by nature, a solver, and she’s the most fascinating equation I’ve encountered.
