Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series

by Pogue, Lindsey

  “Sam . . .” She’s right, I chose to leave her, a decision I’ve regretted since the moment I stepped on the bus and watched her disappear behind me. I regretted the entire bus ride, the flight to Missouri, every single moment I had time to think was all about her—before and after her letter. “Sam, I was torn. You know I was. I missed you like crazy before I even left. I wanted to come back, I wanted to be with you, but what the hell was I supposed to do? You can’t just walk away from the Army. It doesn’t work that way.”

  The hard set of her features wanes and she studies my face.

  “Your letter shattered me. You fucking shattered me through a goddamn letter . . . all for him.”

  Her shoulders slump and she swallows.

  I want to shake her and pull her against me all at once. “I knew being back wouldn’t be easy, but I’m trying really hard to make things right between us. And I won’t apologize for what happened with Mike.”

  She’s quiet a minute longer before she rubs her forehead and nods. Without a word she turns forward again and takes the oar from her lap. “I’m sorry I did it through a letter,” she whispers. I barely hear her because I’m too busy watching her profile quiver.

  My heart tightens as I remember opening the tearstained envelope. I picture her leaning over her desk, crying as she rushes to get the words on paper, when all I could see before was a flurry of red and black. The fact that she felt slighted and abandoned had never crossed my mind, and I see us both for the kids that we were. “I made some really stupid decisions,” I say quietly for the first time to anyone. “But no matter what you think of me, I hope you at least know that I’ve always cared about you, Sam. I’ve never stopped. And anything I did—the Mike thing—wasn’t to get back at you or to hurt you.”

  Her eyes drift to mine again, glistening, and she grabs her hip with one hand and her other tightens into a fist around her oar. Finally, she nods. “Me too.” She looks down at my hands, white-knuckled as I grip the oar. “We should keep rowing, we’re almost to the first bridge.” She turns forward, and dips her oar in the water again. “All of our friends will be waiting for us.”

  Head muddled in the aftermath of whatever just happened between us, I take a deep breath and try to focus on the sound of the others around the bend. Once again, her rowing is more determined, and I quicken my pace to keep up, deciding maybe silence between us right now is better than harsh words and hurtful memories.

  We drift around a rocky bend before we arrive at the towering green bridge. Bethany and her brunette friend are unloading their canoe. Nick, Mac, and Savannah are already on the shore, laughing and completely oblivious to what just happened between Sam and me.

  “There you are!” Mac shouts, skipping over to us as our canoe glides up onto the shore. She has a canned margarita drink in her hand. “Here,” she says, handing it to Sam. “A liquid refreshment for the lady.”

  Sam takes it without hesitation and after bumping drinks together, both girls take a sip. Sam’s is longer and more urgent, and even Mac’s face scrunches in disgust as she watches Sam down her drink.

  Mac looks between us, but I don’t want to see the questions in her eyes, so I look away.

  Sam downs the rest of it and crumples the small can in her hand. “That was yummy.”

  I give her a sidelong glance as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand, and then Sam climbs out of the canoe with Mac’s help and practically runs over to Nick. He’s pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels when Sam says, “I’ll have a shot of that.”

  Nick smiles and sings hallelujah as he hands the bottle over to her. “Welcome to the dark side, Sam. It’s about damn time.”

  Although Mac and Savannah eye Sam quizzically, Nick seems blissfully unaware of Sam’s mood.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” Bethany’s friend says behind me, and I glance over my shoulder as she and Bethany prance toward me, Bethany with an extra beer in her hand.

  “I was just thinking that myself.”

  Twenty

  Reilly

  Another pit stop, a few casual exchanges with Bethany’s friend, Claire, and three or four beers later, all of us finally reach our destination: the jumping rock. I haven’t been down the river this far in years, not since Nick’s parents brought us up here camping when we were in eighth grade. My buzz only enhances the nostalgic haze that’s making me feel like somewhat of a kid again.

  Our canoe slides and scrapes onto shore, and Sam practically jumps out, laughing at something I’m oblivious to as she skips toward Mac.

  The rest of our canoe ride was silent, neither of us feeling much like chatting, or maybe we were just too afraid to. Instead, I’d noticed things in our silence, like her swaying a bit in her seat and her little “whoops!” and giggles the couple times she nearly dropped her oar.

  Mac’s still climbing out of her own canoe when Sam clasps onto her hand, pulling her out and toward the water. “Sam!” Mac shrieks.

  Laughter follows as they both splash and fall into the water. Sam seems completely unaffected that she still has her shorts on, though Mac is clearly less oblivious as she looks down at her drenched cover-up, horrified. “So much for keeping this dry,” she gripes.

  “Awww, come on, Mac. Stop being such a girl. It’s just water, you’ll dry!” Sam runs her hands over her face, slicking back wet tendrils of loose blonde hair escaped from her braid. “God, the water feels so good,” she groans and flips onto her back, floating. “Can we just stay here forever?”

  That damn, unbridled smile I’ve been trying to fight back the last couple hours is back, and I catch myself grinning. Luckily, my stomach rumbles, and I refocus. I’m starving.

  “Yo! Reilly!” Nick calls above the double-bass beat and shrieking vocals that play from his speaker. He nods toward a shaded area beneath the trees.

  I collect my backpack, flip-flops, and wet, balled-up t-shirt from the bottom of the canoe and head over. Nick smiles as his attention lingers on Savannah. With a yip and splash, she’s in the water with Sam and Mac, the three of them smashed.

  “There’s something magical about a woman with few inhibitions,” Nick muses, no doubt gloating about his role in all of it.

  Sam laughs, followed by splashing. Dangerous seems more appropriate. I deposit my things beside him, amused. “Something magical, huh?”

  He grins like an idiot and lights a cigarette before he plops down on his towel. There’s a glassy sheen to his eyes I’m all too familiar with.

  “Oh, boys . . .” Savannah calls, and both of us look up. The ladies beckon us over.

  Sam’s smiling and it’s perfect, the one I wish I saw more often. “I guess it is sort of magical,” I admit aloud, and lay my own towel out beside Nick’s. I’m probably a little too fuzzy for my own good, but I’m coherent enough to know that joining them in the water would be a mistake.

  Nick holds up his cigarette. “Can’t, smoke break!” he says, then points to the ice chests. “You need food!”

  “Aw, you’re no fun,” Sam whines, and they lose themselves to muted conversations, some splashing, and the occasional laugh.

  I open my ice chest and grab my last beer and my double-wrapped lunch, grinning almost giddily. Mac was right. “Still dry,” I say, holding it up. “There’s nothing worse than a soggy sandwich.”

  “If that’s all it takes to make you happy, man . . .” Nick says as he concentrates on unwrapping his lunch. He holds his cigarette between his lips. “Ah-ha! Victory!” With a final drag, he puts his cigarette out in the sand and drops the butt in his ice chest.

  “So,” he eventually continues as he pops open a beer, “how’s it going?” He looks at Sam.

  I wipe any lingering crumbs from my mouth with the back of my hand, thinking. All I can come up with is, “I don’t know.”

  Nick takes another bite of his sandwich. “Sorry, man. I wish I could help you two figure things out.”

  I shrug, resigned. “It is what it is.” As much as I want ever
ything to be better, to feel natural between us again, I know too much has happened for that, despite the hope that still lingers in the back of my mind, even now.

  “The summer is still young, my friend,” he says in the worst French accent I’ve ever heard.

  My gaze rests on Sam again, though I don’t want it to. “Yeah, well, I’m leaving, remember?”

  “True.” Nick grunts and nudges me with a shit-eating grin on his face. “So, where’s your little brunette shadow who’s been following you around all day?”

  “Claire? I guess she’s with Bethany, downriver still.”

  “She’s a cutie. I’ve seen her at Lick’s a few times with a few different guys, so be careful.”

  I chuckle through a mouthful of food. “It’s not like we’re getting hitched,” I say and swallow. “She’s just cute . . . and easier to be around.”

  “Oh, she’s a cutie for sure, that’s the problem.”

  I shake my head as Nick pulls a jar of pickles out of his ice chest. “Some things never change,” I mutter.

  When I hear Bethany’s voice downstream, I wonder if I might be wrong. Though I’m sure I know the answer, I venture to ask, “You over her yet, man?” I can’t imagine he’d still have any feelings for her after everything that’s happened within this group. Bethany’s played with his heart since she knew it was possible and caused plenty of problems on top of that, mostly when it comes to Sam . . . and me, I remind myself. Sam was right. I might never have encouraged Bethany’s attention, but I never deterred it either.

  “Bethany? Oh. Sure. I have Savannah, remember?”

  I laugh, dubious. “As convincing as that was . . .”

  Nick groans and lies back, draping his arm over his face as he takes a bite of pickle. “She’s made it clear for the past, like, eight years that there isn’t and never will be anything between us,” he explains, but it seems he’s saying it more to himself. My gaze shifts to Sam, then back to Bethany and Claire.

  “I don’t know,” I think aloud. “She’s been eyeing you all day. You sure about that?”

  Nick shrugs. “I know. I’m ignoring it. Savannah’s a good girl. I need a good girl.”

  They pull their canoe up on shore and are scampering toward us within minutes, Bethany waving and Claire blushing.

  “Want to go for a swim?” Claire asks, and as she tilts her head to the side, cute as ever, part of me wants to say yes.

  “Maybe in a bit,” I say and hold up my sandwich, then my eyes meet Sam’s and she looks away.

  Twenty-One

  Sam

  Stomach full and feeling like I could float away, Mac and I sit in the sunshine, basking and quiet. Well, I’m basking—or trying to—and Mac bites the side of her cheek, eyeing me and waiting for a response.

  “Stop staring at me. I’m fine,” I say, at least fine in the sense she means. My mind is swirling a little, but it feels nice, feels light and liberating.

  “I heard you guys,” she says, all ominous and judgy.

  “Heard who?” I stare at her, growing exasperated.

  “You and Reilly shouting on the water earlier.”

  “Oh.” I figured she’d have said something already if she’d heard. I guess she was just waiting for me to forget about my fight with him so that she could remind me of it again. I pick a loose thread on my towel.

  “Not good, huh?”

  “Yeah, well”—I exhale and turn to look at her—“there was a reason I didn’t want to partner with him.”

  Mac’s stare stays, and my buzz begins to fade, and with it so does my light mood. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re drinking a lot for, well, you, and—”

  “What do you people want from me?” I blurt out. “I’m letting loose,” I say a bit more evenly. “I’m trying to have a good time, just like you’ve all been badgering me to do. I can’t be Reilly’s best friend and let loose and deal with Bethany all at once, okay? That’s just asking too much.” I reach over, stretching for Nick’s half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. The more I drink of it, the less I hate the way it tastes.

  “What is that, shot number three or four?” Mac asks.

  I shrug. “I’m not counting.” I take a swig and breathe out the fumes that burn my throat going down. I like the burn, a lot. I offer Mac the bottle.

  Mac shakes her head, but she takes the bottle and sets it aside. “I don’t expect you to be Bethany’s friend. That’s a horrid thought.” She makes a sour face. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Am I allowed to do that? You are my best friend, remember?”

  Pulling my legs up to my chest, I fold my arms over my knees and concentrate on the liquid that makes my stomach warm. “Of course, just stop ruining my buzz, alright?” I’m only half-teasing her. “I need a friend, not a babysitter.” I’m fully aware that that isn’t something sober Sam would say, but I don’t seem to care enough to apologize.

  Mac throws her hands up. “Fine. You got it. No more babysitting.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “But”—I lift a finger—“I cannot guarantee I won’t need you to hold me back when I can’t take any more of Bethany’s shit and I bitch-slap her.”

  Mac bursts out laughing. “Okay, I’ll try to prepare myself.”

  I laugh, letting the heaviness in my chest go with it. But when I hear Reilly’s deep laugh over by the jumping rock, and Claire and Bethany in the water splashing and cheering him on, I can’t help the way my stomach knots up again, even from way up here on the languid cloud I’ve been drifting on.

  “What can I do?” Mac’s hands are soft and warm on my back as she rubs small, slow, comforting circles. With her sixth sense to know when something’s wrong, comes the ability to know what to do to make me feel better—sometimes.

  My lids flutter closed, and I let out a moan. “Keep doing that—for, like, ever.”

  Reilly laughs again, followed by ear-piercing squealing and cackling. Opening my eyes, my cheek resting on my knee, I watch Reilly, his air easy and playful, the way he used to be with me, and I remember our late-night dips in the lake—our own private haven away from our unbearable lives.

  “Sam,” Mac whispers.

  I know that tone—sympathy or pity or sadness—and I don’t want to see it in her expression. I refuse to look at her.

  “I know this trip is hard for you, but I’m glad you guys are trying,” she says.

  Something buried in a hidden place, masked by the darkness, shudders and heaves and twists and tugs until I have to squelch every maddening response away. When impending tears prick the backs of my eyes, I blink.

  “Look out below!” Nick calls, and I’m thankful for the diversion. He jumps from the cliff into the water without an iota of hesitation. He’s under the water for a few seconds, when he eventually bobs back up to the surface. Savannah swims out to him, both of them laughing as they ride the ripples, him encouraging her to jump off too.

  I gaze past them at other groups splashing and jumping off rocks and partying up the river. This is truly the place to be this weekend, but part of me is ready to go home already.

  “Don’t let go!” Claire calls. And I take a deep breath, watching as she hangs on Reilly’s back as he threatens to head up to shore. The more Reilly drinks, the more playful he gets. I know I shouldn’t care, I have no right to, but I do. Since Claire took her life vest off, she’s barely unwound herself from him.

  “Come on, Corporal, show us what you got!” Nick calls as Reilly climbs up the rock.

  The girls below hoot and cheer for him to jump, including Mac beside me. Giving everyone below a salute, Reilly lifts off the pads of his feet and jumps into the water, plunging in with a giant splash.

  “Damn, I miss this,” he calls when he resurfaces. He shakes the water from his face and hair and wades back toward shore.

  “Right on,” Nick says, giving him a high-five, and they head back up the rock for another jump.

  Mac and I sit in silence as we watch Reilly and Nick jump again and again. They look
like they’re having the time of their lives, and I’m smiling and laughing with them, even if I’m doing so from afar.

  Irritation prickles over me. “I want to try it,” I say, surprising myself, and I jump to my feet.

  Mac jumps up too. “Are you serious? You never jump. That’s like a fifteen-foot drop or something.”

  “Serious,” I say and brush the sand from my hands off on my shorts. “Before I lose my nerve.”

  With what lingers of good ol’ Jack running through my blood and an airy, adventurous longing nagging at me, I seize this opportunity to live a little. Pulling off my shorts, I rush toward the cliff. I barely register the sound of Bethany jumping off, of Claire cheering and yipping from the water, of the guys laughing. I feel too alive to think about anything other than what I’m about to do—what I’m determined to do.

  “Be careful, Sam!” Mac calls.

  I wave, never once removing my gaze from the rock as I climb to the top. The stones are wet but rough enough that I don’t have to worry about my footing. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  I’m just about to convince myself I don’t have to, that it’s dangerous and I might hit the rocks at the bottom, but Nick’s gaping awe forces me to stay. “No fucking way!”

  “She’s doing it!” Mac squeals.

  Reilly’s standing at the top, arm outstretched when I reach him. My gaze meets his. Although he looks surprised, amusement and what might be intrigue enlivens his jewel-blue eyes and it bolsters my need to do this.

  All too eagerly, I accept his hand. As he pulls me to the top, I try not to notice the rivulets of water running down his chest.

  “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this!” Nick shouts. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a new thrill-seeker, ladies and gentlemen.”