Page 56 of The Love You Fight For
“She left.”
“She what?” Lennon glances around the yard. “She came with us. Do you know why?”
I shrug. “Guess she had enough of mingling with the unwashed.”
Lennon doesn’t acknowledge my barb as she pulls out her phone, then she sighs and tips her head to the sky.
“She doesn’t have her phone with her.” She looks at Macon. “Can I have the keys? I’m going to pick her up and drive her home.”
Macon fishes into his pocket and drops the car keys into her hand, and she kisses him quickly before bolting from the yard.
“What happened?” Macon asks.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say honestly, and he nods in my periphery.
“Sam’s complicated.”
I look at him finally. He’s standing with his arms crossed, staring toward the sliding glass doors.
“I’ve gathered that,” I say, and then he smirks.
“Her bite fucking hurts.” He laughs, then makes eye contact with me. “But her bark is worse. And usually the nastier she is, the closer you are to something she’s trying to protect.”
I don’t ask him to elaborate. I just nod, then look back toward the doors until Lucy comes running over with a football under her arm.
“Uncle Chris! Macon! Wanna play?”
“Heck yes, I want to play,” I say to Lucy, and Macon scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder.
“Let’s go kick some Uncle Chris butt, little lady.”
FIFTEEN
I usemy property key to unlock the door to Sam’s apartment at 6 a.m.
I expected her to be sleeping, so I’m surprised to find her awake on the couch with a cup of coffee in her hand and a laptop in front of her. She blinks up at me with surprise, her blue eyes magnified slightly by the glasses she’s got on. I take her in quickly and notice she’s wearing a very familiar pair of sweatpants and T-shirt, but because I realize I’m walking a thin line right now, I don’t point them out.
“What are you doing awake?” I ask, making my way to her kitchen and putting the reusable grocery bag I brought on the counter.
She studies me warily and takes a sip of her coffee before answering.
“I don’t sleep well,” she says finally, sliding her glasses to the top of her head. “Why are you letting yourself into my cave at six in the morning? Pretty sure this is illegal under tenant’s rights.”
“Cave?” I chuckle. “Macon calls it the penthouse.”
Sam arches an unamused brow.
“Please. My place in D.C. is a penthouse. This place? This is a cave.”
I shake my head, but I don’t argue. I’m sure her place in D.C. is way nicer than this place. It just makes me more curious as to why she’s here and not there.
“Figured I’d make us breakfast before we got on the road.” I rummage through cabinets to find a frying pan and a rubber spatula.
As I suspected, her kitchen is lacking. Luckily, I pre-chopped the vegetables and pre-shredded the cheese before I came. I even brought my own spices.
“I’m having breakfast,” Sam says, and I look up just in time to see her raise her coffee mug. “And what do you meanget on the road?”
I ignore the question and address the statement.
