Always Was

by Amabel Daniels

  They had a few rooms left, but to his newfound dismay, only vacancies with one king-size bed, not doubles. After sharing such an awful tidbit of her past, he refused to trespass on her space. “I can take the couch,” he said as he handed money over.

  “Sorry, sir, no sofas in these rooms,” the clerk informed them.

  “The chair then,” he grumbled, refusing to look up from his wallet. It wasn’t like they had any other choices in the stop off the highway in this weather.

  “Do you have free Wi-Fi?” Sammy asked.

  “Sorry, we don’t.”

  She sighed as the sky thundered.

  “But we did just add a parking garage,” the clerk said with a hopeful smile.

  Well, there’s one goddamn amenity.

  Sammy followed him back through the front lobby, and he caught her eyeing the wide glass-paned walls showcasing the indoor pool and hot tub. Back in the car, he drove to the parking garage—an unexpected highlight—and parked. They gathered their things, waited for Ink to piddle on the pavement next to the car, and headed inside.

  He didn’t even know how to act around her anymore. He’d always been slightly careful, recognizing her juvenile crush. It was an honor that she singled him out as the object of her affection back then, but he was unsure how to reciprocate without actually doing so. Reuniting with her as an adult, even if only for a week-long road trip, he’d been less careful, but still cautious. This was Sammy. The girl back home he’d never forgotten. Now knowing she’d been assaulted, he wasn’t confident he could contain his anger, her fury at her having experienced such a horror. It broke him to know she’d suffered so personally, so intimately, and while he wasn’t objecting to wrapping her in his arms and coddling her, he sensed it wasn’t the proper tactic.

  How could he be a shoulder to cry on if she wasn’t bawling? How could he rub her back, hug her tight, tell her it would be okay, if she had already figured out a defense mechanism to stand strong on her own?

  In their room, he let his bag slide to the floor, thumping next to the dresser. He stared at the apricot-colored carpet.

  “Do you want to shower or something?” she asked from his side, having set her bag on the small table. “You got soaked back there.”

  Like when he’d nearly stumbled in at a zombie’s pace back to the car at the diner’s lot, stunned and paralyzed at the sinking news of why she was so standoffish and skittish? He wanted to crack a laugh. Modest? He’d thought she’d been modest. More like terrified. Alarmed. Worried. Hiding.

  “I’m going to go for a swim,” he said, crouching to his bag, too intimidated to face her. “I can’t just… I can’t just call it a night and sit around. I’ve gotta burn some energy or something.”

  When she didn’t reply, he headed for the bathroom. Locked into the space alone, he set his hands on the counter and stared into the mirror.

  How long she’d suffered, been scared… He couldn’t stomach it. She was too sweet, too innocent for whatever some asshole did to her. He didn’t know how to react calmly around her, and his temper would be the last thing she needed. Some slight distance would be best, for both of them. With a heavy sigh, he broke the pull of zoning out, eyeing his own gaze, and changed into his swim trunks.

  He exited the bathroom to find her lying on her side on the bed, phone at one ear and Ink nestled at her chest. She lifted a hand with a slight wave which he returned, and he left without another word.

  Stroking through the water helped some. He’d always been a cardio junkie, loving the rush of a good run, but aquatics, not so much. Still, moving his limbs through the nearly visitor-less pool, save for a couple of wrinkly, fat-rolled, gray-haired men sitting on the steps in the shallow end, he felt some of the rage seep out of his system. Breathing hard, he could still hear, and feel, the tumble of thunder from the storm outside. Fleetingly, he wondered if Ink would have a mini-mutt panic attack in their room all night long.

  Like owner, like dog.

  His comparison was weak. Ink was a dust mote of a canine, seemingly intimidated by her own shadow. Sammy, though, she’d risen. Somehow under her own power, she’d found the courage not only to escape her problems, but she’d discovered what seemed like stilted happiness and success in a new location, embracing her passion for painting without any restraints.

  Again, images crashed in his mind. Dark blurs of Sammy pleading for help, crying in pain, blocking her arms from some motherfucking asshole—

  “I hope Ink will be okay.”

  He lifted his face from his forearms where he’d been resting them against the edge of the pool, catching his breath from his extreme exertion in attempt to expel the demons in his brain.

  Sammy stood before him, in the same tank top she’d worn earlier with a motel towel around her waist. Her bare feet were mere inches from his arms.

  “Thought I’d try the hot tub,” she said when he didn’t speak.

  He nodded. “Is she usually bad with storms?” he asked, watching as she stepped away from him and approached the hot tub. She kept her back to him as she pulled off her towel and flung it to a chair. As he followed her movements, he cringed at the curiosity of how hard the simple disrobing of clothes could be for her, for a rarity of a woman who claimed “no one” had seen her without pants on.

  Some fucker had done that to her. Destroyed her sense of security, her right to behave like any other female on the earth. She seemed to be doing well, as much as a passerby could see. Outwardly, she seemed content and productive in her own right. But how much did she hide? How much damage did she try to keep under the surface and prohibit anyone from knowing her fears?

  “Yes. The louder the thunder, the more she shakes,” Sammy admitted. In the swirling steaming waters, she sat and then turned to face him, all her lean, toned lengths of arms and legs obscured in the active water, her chocolate waves piled in a messy, sexy bun atop her head.

  He swam closer to stack his arms on the ledge of tiled floor that bordered between the pool and hot tub, coming to face her at her level, only in different temperature of water.

  “Anything you can do?” he asked, comfortable with this mundane discussion of a scaredy-cat pooch, avoiding the elephant in the room.

  “Not really. Clare usually lets her burrow under the blankets and ride it out. Too small of a mutt to try Benadryl on or anything.” Sammy leaned back into the seat. “Not that Clare would ever consider drugging an animal.”

  “Clare?”

  “My friend. Ink is her dog.”

  Thank fuck she’s not alone in San Francisco.

  “Then why are you lugging her to New Hampshire with you?” He pulled himself out of the water a little more to settle in better for a longer chat.

  “Lugging her? My coffee cup takes up more space than Ink. I’ve been watching her since Clare’s been in the hospital. She’ll need to go to rehab soon, and she—and I—can’t abandon the dog.” With a flick of her hand in the foamy jetted sprays, she said, “We’re neighbors, too. Not like it’s a hardship to dog-sit something not even heavier than a sketchbook. I got Ink for her. Sometimes it’s like Ink is ‘our’ pet.”

  “Sorry to hear she’s not doing well. What happened to her?”

  “She fell.”

  He winced. “Busted her head?”

  “She did have a slight concussion. Broke her hips in multiple points.”

  Hips? “How old is she?”

  “Almost eighty.”

  Sammy befriended a senior citizen. Somehow it didn’t seem absurd. In fact, it was endearing. “Hope she recovers soon.”

  The sigh leaving Sammy’s mouth dragged on too long for mere commiseration. “It’ll be a process. Rehab, physical therapy.”

  “Good thing she’s got you for a friend at her side.”

  Her gaze lingered, didn’t fade. A blink didn’t halt her soul-searching regard on him. All other compliments or warm words he’d given her, she’d blushed or ducked somehow.

  Lounging in a hot tub, he guessed sh
e’d be plenty heated to bypass a damn blush. Still…

  “And I’m starting to think it’s a good thing I’ve got a … friend like you by my side now.”

  “So now I’m properly your friend?” he tried to tease. “Not Jake’s friend?”

  Her cheeks rose to allow a timid smile. “Don’t see him around anywhere.”

  Emboldened by her sentiment, he hoisted himself out of the pool and into the hot tub, sitting across from her.

  “Holy…” he whispered. He hadn’t realized the pool was that cool. “I’m proud to be your friend, Samantha.”

  She frowned as a dark object suddenly floated to the surface of the water. Snatching it out of the spinning stream, she frowned at it. “Oops.”

  He eyed the canister. Mace. She’d brought pepper spray into a hot tub.

  “I, uh, I never go anywhere without it,” she said, setting it on the ground behind her head. “Forgot I had it tucked at my waist.”

  Acid spun and picked at his stomach at the fact she’d had to resort to such extremes.

  “Do you think the hot water will”—she craned to look at the cylinder—“I don’t know, make it blow up?”

  He shrugged, not trusting himself to say anything more, hating she’d felt she needed it. “As long as you’re near me, you won’t have to use it. Got it?” He’d pulverize anyone who tried to harm her.

  She smirked at him. “Hard habit to break.” Her jaw dropped. “I mean in general. Not at you.”

  He frowned.

  Her foot smacked his knee under the water. “Hey. We’re friends now, remember? We can trust each other?”

  With a nod, he lacked the enthusiasm to elaborate on her observation. How much of an ass would he be to mention how hard it was to tamper down his attraction to her?

  “I haven’t really told anyone about what happened before I left home,” she said.

  “Not even Clare?”

  She shook her head. “I think she could figure it out on her own. She was, uh”—she nearly broke eye contact, taking a deep breath—“raped when she was younger, by her boyfriend. And when she found out she was pregnant, her dad forced her to have an abortion because the baby would have been Hispanic.”

  Alarm rushed his pulse. Had Sammy been pregnant, and aborted her— Nightmares compounded before he could stop them.

  “I was lucky. I mean, compared to her. And that was in the seventies. Scary stuff back then, abortions.”

  He rushed out a deep breath.

  “It was just that she kind of was in the same boat, so she must have known somehow.” Frowning at the water, she twitched her lips. “So many times I’ve wondered how I could still be such a coward, like I can’t own up to what happened to me. She told me about her incident, and I can’t even imagine being knocked up by a lover, forced to kill a baby… And I haven’t had the guts to at least tell her my story.”

  “What happened to you is your past. To share with whomever you want to.” Ironically, he was the chosen one to share news of her horror. Why him, he had to wonder. “You’re not a coward, Sammy. You had the balls to uproot yourself and start fresh. Maybe you were scared, still are, but you didn’t give into fear,” he continued. “And being assaulted is not something you have to own up to.”

  She scoffed.

  He cocked his head, resisting a glare. “You beg to differ?”

  “What if I was leading him on?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She sat up straighter. “What if I was dressed like a ‘skank’?”

  Hell, she even used air quotes. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “What if—”

  “You could make a million what-ifs, and it still wouldn’t goddamn matter. No means no. And any idiot who thinks otherwise deserves to have his ass whipped.” Just point him out to me.

  She stared at him.

  “Sorry if I’m not fancy-footing around this. God knows what kind of crap you had to have thought when this happened, all bullshit from your mother, probably. Your parents always making you think you had to be a quiet shadow in the room, never speaking up. And I’m sorry I lost my cool when you told me at the diner. I might have a temper. But that shit doesn’t fly with me. I pray to God you haven’t wasted your time thinking you could have acted differently, that you shouldn’t have worn a push-up bra, or used some hot-pink lip gloss, or maybe if you hadn’t flirted with him, smiled at him, he wouldn’t have done whatever he did to you. Because none of that matters.”

  Worked up from his outburst, he lowered his voice, even though they were the only ones in the pool room now. He didn’t intend to holler at her. “I get it might be a shock. All this pussy-grabbing culture we live in. Or the discrimination against women actually not being ashamed of embracing their bodies. Or your parents being so restrictive and controlling. All that fucked-up nonsense. How it works in my books is that no. Means. No. And the fucker who defied that rule with you better count himself lucky he hasn’t met me yet.”

  A tad surprised he’d vocalized himself so forcefully, he set his gaze on anywhere but her face. Too much? Too tough? He couldn’t resist her, and faced her fully.

  He couldn’t read her.

  “I think love you,” she said simply, as though she was confused.

  No one had ever explained such basics to her? Not even Jake? It was sad, but her comical statement had him venting his pent-up emotions. Laughter, intense and spontaneous, bubbled from his lips. If only she knew how awesome it would be if she did—a real, mature love, not a kiddie infatuation. He let his chuckles fade immediately. Love? A committed bond to stick us together? Who was he kidding? She deserved someone steadier than him. Especially someone not hemming and hawing about shipping out to Kuwait.

  “I could have used you before I took the risk to get scrubbed of the Millson fame and fortune,” she said.

  Odd she’d say that, because he couldn’t sense any truth in that comment. She seemed to be doing well on her own. As long as she made enough to get food and art supplies, Sammy wouldn’t be lacking. Wealth never seemed her goal.

  “Thought you were making out all right?” he said.

  “For now, I am, but…” She sighed. “Really, you—that kind of mentality, that’s what I needed, what I’ve been missing.”

  “Why haven’t you told Jake?” he asked.

  “Embarrassed. Ashamed.”

  He shook his head, growling.

  “I couldn’t even bring myself to explain to my mother. She didn’t let me.”

  Jerking forward, he floundered in the water. “Let you? You tried to report it to her, and she didn’t even … care?” His disapproval of Mrs. Millson sank even deeper. Besides the asshole who assaulted Sammy, Mrs. Millson was at the top of his shit list. What kind of a parent…?

  “When it—well, it was at a frat party on campus,” Sammy said. “When it happened. And after, I couldn’t even function. I’d started to stay in, couldn’t leave my dorm room. Freaked at the thought of going out in public, let alone going to classes.”

  Covering his mouth quickly, he tried to convince himself it wouldn’t scare her if he moved to sit next to her, to gather her in his arms.

  Right, nearly naked now, dude. Not smart. But he couldn’t just sit there and stomach her agony of explaining.

  “Can I…” He gestured to the space next to her. Instead, she shifted to take the depression adjacent to him. He let his arm fall around her shoulders, holding her close, comforted she’d taken the step toward him.

  “So of course my grades worsened in my absence. If it hadn’t been for my friend Reese—she was the one who found me that night—I would have starved. She forced me to eat. I couldn’t handle any more of her damn organic chem explanations, how the body breaks down at a cellular level if it doesn’t have this micronutrient, or too little of this mineral…” She shook her head faintly. “If she hadn’t nursed me into some normalcy, I would have been a pale stick figure when Mother ordered me to see her.”

  Uneasy
at her shared memories, he rubbed his thumb in circles on her shoulder.

  “She demanded I pay attention to my courses. How dare I slack? How dare I not excel? She didn’t ask for an explanation. Didn’t even care. She’d assumed I was partying too hard, living up my freedom on campus. Freedom?” She choked on a laugh. “Freedom? I couldn’t bear to leave my room. I went to one party. That one single, solitary fucking party, and I’d never go to another again if I had a gun to my head. I’d only gone that night to see, to experience it just once, to let loose and see how it was to simply be a normal student among peers, having fun and simply hanging out. I tried to tell her. I’d gone to a frat event, and someone ‘bothered’ me there.”

  Adam gripped her shoulder.

  “Know what she said? All my fault. That’s what I get for drinking. That’s what I get for whoring around. That’s what happens when I stoop to the lowlifes and party hard. I should have been better than that.”

  “Sammy, stop.” He couldn’t stomach the shakes her small body emitted next to him, how riled up she grew from recalling the details. Leaning forward, he took a good look at her face, and wiped away the single tear on her cheek.

  Tucking her close to his chest, he wished her proximity, her smooth skin against his, could somehow erase the ache inside him and steady her racing heart too.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. What’s in the past, can stay in the past.” He’d wanted answers, curious of course and more so, worried. There was no way he’d let her drag herself through her former mud to spell anything out for him, though.

  And the ugliness of times long gone… They never left. He could still cringe at listening through a door to his parents arguing about relocating, his mom crying that she’d be widowed, his dad yelling that it was his duty to serve in the military. He would never forget the bitterness that soured the chances of a happy family. Pale wounds compared to Sammy. But he could promise her that what was done, was done. She could only grow and gain a tougher hide from her past, not wallow in it forever. He’d promise her.