Home Matched (Salt Lake Pumas Book 4)

by Camellia Tate

  But it didn’t help me to keep my feelings about Sam down in the dark cellar where I’d been hiding them. With every question, Sam’s face rose up before my mind’s eye, replaying that smirk or the way his eyes had sparkled as he’d chatted to Ethan.

  For the most part, I was able to avoid meeting up with Sam. We saw each other around, waved or nodded, but didn’t get close enough to talk. It certainly felt like he was keeping his distance as much as I was.

  And I had plenty to keep me busy. Between work and wedding stuff, not to mention looking after Ethan, it felt as though every moment of my time was accounted for.

  What I needed, after a hectic couple of weeks, was a night all to myself. Charlotte was baking with her mom, Pat was out with work colleagues, and Netflix had a brand new series of Umbrella Academy with my name on it.

  My glass of wine was still nearly full when my doorbell gave an unexpected trill. Putting the show on pause, I walked to the door, pulling it open to find the one and only Sam Levesque himself.

  It had been so long since Sam had stood at my door, I almost didn’t know what to say. My ‘oh’ was not exactly the greatest of starts.

  “Were we supposed to be doing something for the wedding?” I asked. I could hardly imagine that Sam had come over socially. We didn’t do that. Anymore. Did we?

  “No.” Sam shook his head. “I need a favor.” And then he just stood there, both of us staring at each other until I realized he was waiting for me to invite him in. I stumbled, stepping aside and muttering a ‘come in’ that sounded surprised even to me.

  Sam gave me a smile, shrugging one shoulder somewhat sheepishly. “I’m sorry for intruding. Are you busy?” he asked, glancing into the living room where all that looked back was my glass of wine, the paused Netflix show, and a few plants that I liked to think looked curious at having an NHL star visit.

  But rather than presuming that these things meant I wasn’t busy, Sam just waited patiently - if perhaps a little nervously? - for my answer.

  “No, no.” I waved one hand at my living room - wishing that it was a little tidier! Usually, if company was expected, there would be fewer boring letters on the coffee table and no open bottle of wine sitting on the sideboard.

  But Sam had definitely seen worse. Even though we’d never lived together, he’d seen my tiny student rooms where my books were piled on top of the wardrobe because there was nowhere else for them to go!

  “What kind of favor do you need on a Friday night?” I teased.

  The look of sheepishness returned as Sam shuffled like he didn’t quite know what to say. It struck me how much Sam looked like he had when we were teenagers. The first time he’d needed help tutoring, that same nervous shuffle had been there. It was... interesting. Something I hadn’t thought of for so long. I’d stopped tutoring Sam when we graduated, years before we actually broke up.

  “I need to write my speech,” Sam finally told me. “For the wedding?” he clarified. I almost laughed. Managing not to, I nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I thought I’d start early. You know how I struggle with writing things, right?” I nodded again. Sam had never officially been diagnosed as dyslexic when we were at school but he definitely had shown symptoms

  “Starting early sounds sensible,” I agreed. Sam had always responded well to praise. The more confidence I’d shown in him, the more he’d been able to feel about himself. Thinking on my feet, I picked up the wine and led Sam through to the kitchen.

  There was a small island in the middle, just big enough for two of us to sit. “Help yourself to a glass,” I suggested, setting the bottle down with my glass next to it. “Or there’s soda in the fridge if you prefer. Sorry, I don’t tend to buy beer.”

  Sam and I had always drunk beer together with our pizza. I hadn’t started to like wine until after our breakup.

  Returning with two pads of paper and two pens, I handed one of each to Sam. “Do you want to talk and I’ll make notes?” I suggested.

  “I... guess?” Sam frowned. He did help himself to a glass and pour some wine out, almost like he needed the courage. It was strange to see Sam nervous like this. Not because I’d never seen him nervous before but because the way he carried himself was so different. The nervousness didn’t make him scared the way it might have done once upon a time.

  This response struck me as so much more mature. But of course, it would be, right? We were actual grown adults now. I waited, sure that Sam would explain what his difficulty was. Watching him take a sip of the wine, I tapped my pen against the notepad lightly. Not to rush him, but just to have something to do with my hands.

  “Where do I start?” Sam asked me. “It’s about my relationship with Pat, right? So... do I talk about our childhood? How Pat was always the more obedient kid?” That last question was said with a small grin, though we both knew it was also true.

  With a hum, I pursed my lips slightly. “It’s a little about your relationship with Pat,” I agreed. Most best man’s speeches, in my experience, did cover how the best man had come to be the best man, whether he was a brother or a best friend or whatever else. “So yeah, you could talk about your childhood. The kinds of things you did for him, the kind of things he did for you.”

  Thinking back to the weddings I’d been to, I tried to remember which had been the best speeches. A lot of guys aimed to be funny, which was all well and good, but I personally preferred heartfelt with a touch of teasing, rather than wall-to-wall embarrassing stories.

  “Have you been to many weddings?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I didn’t know.

  We’d briefly talked about being involved in the wedding party, but the conversation hadn’t addressed just attending weddings. There was a period in my life where it felt like someone was getting married every second month. I had no idea if that was the same for Sam. We lived in such different places, such different lives.

  “I’ve been to a few,” Sam answered, not having any idea of all the thoughts spinning through my head. “The speeches have been... fine? I think I end up worrying so much that someone will mess up that I almost don’t hear the speeches,” he admitted. “Public speaking is stressful even when it’s not me doing it.”

  Without pausing to think, I reached forward and rested my hand on Sam’s forearm. His skin was so smooth and warm, making my breath catch in my throat as heat poured through me. My grip tightened for an instant, then relaxed. Snatching my hand back seemed like it would just draw attention. Instead, I awkwardly patted Sam’s arm.

  “You’ll be fine,” I promised. It was true, there was no doubt in my mind about that. But Sam still looked concerned. “It’s a lot of pressure,” I agreed. Knowing Sam as well as I did - or as well as I once had - I knew that he wanted to get it right for Pat. “But you’ve got time to practice. We’ll write a great speech together, and you can say it to yourself every night, until it feels natural.”

  It was what I had done before my bar exams.

  “So, what do you want to say about Pat?” I asked. “What kind of person do you want to tell people he is?” We could start there.

  Sam’s eyes lingered on my hand. When I finally pulled it back, he shook his head before I could figure out what he was thinking. “Thanks, Helena,” he said, a gentle smile crossing his lips. “I knew you’d be the best person to come to about this.” That made my heart skip a beat. Thinking that Sam chose me over other options.

  Pausing, Sam reached to take a sip of the wine. He seemed almost surprised by the taste. “This is nice,” he informed me absentmindedly. “Well, Pat is a great person, I want to say that. When we were kids, he always cried at things. This was before you and I met, like maybe when he was five? He’d cry at the wind blowing too hard, at mom making him tea, at dad being five minutes late from work. I used to think it was because he was just whiny, but now I see that it was...”

  There was another pause. I could feel my anticipation build. This wasn’t something Sam had ever said before. It very well might have been becau
se he hadn’t known he thought this.

  “The wind sometimes ripped the branches from the trees in the garden and it made mom sad. I didn’t like tea but whenever Pat had to have some, I had to have some. Dad being late from work meant that we didn’t get as much time to hang out with him. I think Pat cried because he worried about other people,” Sam explained. “That’s... that’s just Pat, you know? He cares so much for everyone else.”

  Nodding, I let my pen fly across my paper, barely even needing to look down as I took note of the different examples Sam had given. “Those are sweet memories,” I said, smiling. “I think they’ll make people laugh a little and make people smile. And Pat won’t be embarrassed.” It was hard to be truly embarrassed about things that had happened when you were as little as five.

  I wondered if this was an aspect of Pat’s past that Charlotte even knew about. Part of me hoped not. I wanted Sam to be the one to tell her, to share these precious memories with her on her wedding day.

  “Do you have examples of how he’s still like that now?” I asked. “Without the crying.”

  “Oh, without the crying? I don’t know, I’ll have to think,” Sam joked, making me grin back at him. He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, Pat’s always calling me to check in. He probably calls me more than mom does. He also comes out to Salt Lake at least once a season so he can watch me play and we can hang out.”

  The way Sam smiled when he was talking about it made it impossible not to smile back. Sam and Pat had always gotten on well enough, but Pat had seemed so much younger back when Sam and I had been together. Five years was a much bigger age gap when you were eighteen and the other person was thirteen.

  Now, Pat was an adult just like we were. An adult marrying my best friend, no less!

  “Pat’s just a caring person. I don’t think he’d be building Charlotte a house if he wasn’t,” Sam commented.

  With a giggle, I nodded. “Yeah, but you can’t use that as your example at their wedding - it’s a secret,” I teased. We both knew that Charlotte knew about the house. Everyone knew about the house - even my dad, who paid about as much attention to the gossip mill as he did to the sports section of the newspaper.

  “So, brothers hanging out together. That’s a good topic to talk about,” I agreed, adding it to my notes. “You probably want to say something about Pat meeting Charlotte?” Frowning, I realized that Sam hadn’t been here when Pat and Charlotte had gotten together.

  I could have given him Charlotte’s side of the story, but that didn’t feel very authentic. “Or maybe something about your parents? How they modeled what a relationship should be for both of you?”

  Sam gave a soft hum at that. “I suppose they did,” he agreed. “But also not? Like... Pat and I are different people than mom and dad. I don’t think they modeled what a relationship should be in as much as they showed us that it is possible to be good with someone?” The explanation, or correction rather, surprised me.

  It once again struck me as such a grown-up thing to say. And of course, it was. But the Sam of way back when would never have given such a thought-through, eloquent comment. My surprise must have shown, because Sam frowned at me.

  “What?”

  Even as I shook my head, I knew that I’d have to say something. It was hard to put into words exactly what I wanted to say. Lifting my wine glass to my lips, the liquid brushed against them, wetting them before I tried to speak.

  “I don’t think you need to be nervous about this speech,” I said gently. “It’s obvious that you’ve thought a lot about this. About relationships and Pat and your parents. You hardly need my help at all.”

  When we were teens, I might have helped Sam to express himself. Now, all he really needed was for someone to ask the right questions and help him pick the words he’d already said.

  The look he gave me was skeptical, like he wasn’t sure if I was only saying that to be nice. But that had never been my style. Sam’s lower lip returned between his teeth. My gaze was mesmerized by it. The lightest blush crossed my cheeks when Sam looked straight at me. He didn’t seem to notice where my eyes had been focused.

  “But that’s not really a speech?” he said, sounding unsure. “I mean, I can’t just talk about how Pat and I approach relationships differently.” Before I could say anything to that, Sam’s frown deepened. “I’d have to talk about you if I did that.”

  And, no, it was hardly the right time for Sam to talk about me. So I did my best to bury the curiosity that suddenly flamed in me. What would this new, grown-up Sam have to say about our relationship? About the way it had ended? Could he see a way through our differences that neither of us had been able to imagine at the time?

  It didn’t matter if he could. We lived different lives now, in completely different places. Neither one of us was any more able to move now than we’d been at twenty.

  “I think you could talk about how your parents taught you to be good with someone,” I said, quoting Sam’s own words back to him. “And about how Pat’s always been so caring of other people. Isn’t it nice that he’s got Charlotte now to be caring of him?”

  Sam smiled at that, giving a small nod. “It is really nice,” he agreed. “What did you think when they started dating? Pat called me when things were starting to get serious and he was like... he was just so sure,” Sam chuckled. “Five weeks in and he was sure he’d marry her one day.”

  That wasn’t something I’d known but it probably was something Charlotte knew. Still, it seemed like a good thing to put in his speech so I wrote that down, too. “It was nice,” Sam went on to say. “To hear excitement like that in his voice. Of course, it was nothing in comparison to when she said ‘yes’!”

  I smiled, remembering how excited Charlotte had been when she’d invited me over to tell me Pat had asked. The memories swirled through me, meeting up with memories of me and Sam, until it was hard to pull the two apart. But they were different, I had to remind myself of that. Sam and I weren’t going to end in a happily ever after - we’d ended years ago!

  “It was a little weird,” I said, answering Sam’s question. “Pat being your brother and everything. It was… hard to see him as an adult, at first. Not because he acted like a kid, just because I was so used to him being one. Being your little brother! It was a culture shock to realize he was old enough to want to marry anybody.”

  Of course, coming back to Lunengrove as an adult had been a culture shock in a lot of ways. Realizing that it was more than I’d thought it could be.

  “That must have been harder for you,” I said. “Is it weird?”

  Sam thought about it for a moment before he shook his head. “No, not that weird. It’s surprising, I guess, because I’ve known Charlotte separately from Pat, but I can see how happy they are together.” And they really were very happy! it was impossible not to be envious of the sort of relationship that Charlotte and Pat shared.

  “Anyway, so this speech?” Sam said, taking us back to the original conversation. “What’s on your list?” he asked, peaking over so he could look at my notebook. “That looks like a lot of notes.”

  Looking down at what I had written, I smiled. It probably was a fair few notes, but Sam had said a lot of really great things.

  “We can narrow it down to bullet points,” I promised. From when we’d studied together, I knew that shorter, more spaced out notes were good for Sam. “This was just me writing down all the ideas you came up with.” It wasn’t really structured yet; that was something we could take care of together.

  Listening to Sam talk about relationships had made me see a different side of him - of the new him, anyway. And as we narrowed down his thoughts, setting them up so that one followed on from another, it felt really good to be working together on something.

  I’d missed that. And maybe I’d specifically missed working with Sam. He’d always made me feel heard and valued in a way that had been new for me.

  This time, it brought back a tumult of bittersweet memories.


  I could hardly wait to hear Sam actually speak, and to watch the pride in Pat and Charlotte’s expressions as they listened to him talk about how greatly matched they were.

  Until then, I would do my best to keep my mind on other things. There was plenty of wedding still to think about!

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam

  Going to Helena for help with my wedding speech was both the best and the worst idea. Over the weeks following, we’d worked on it a couple more times. By now, there was a confidence in me that felt a lot like the time Helena had helped me figure out Of Mice and Men. Helena had always been good at making me feel confident in areas I couldn’t even imagine feeling confident about.

  It was strange to think about how that hadn’t changed in ten years. She was still encouraging, still listened to what I said and helped me figure out how to express myself best.

  There had been a lot of supportive people in my life since Helena, ex-girlfriends and friends. But there was something about the way Helena did it that just felt... different. More genuine in some way.

  But I was old enough to recognize that it was a dangerous line of feelings I was walking. So obviously, the best way to address that was to throw myself fully into helping with Pat’s house. It took us about three days to get the tiling done in the kitchen. Helena had been right, the colors went extremely well.

  The more we worked, the more the house was starting to come together. Not a moment too soon; the wedding was approaching surprisingly quickly. It hardly felt like I’d been home for over two months already! The summer for me seemed to be filled with building.

  And maybe, a little bit, with Helena.

  Today, though, was all about building.

  “Thanks, guys, I really appreciate you coming out to help me and Pat,” I said, genuinely meaning it. When I had asked the team if some of them wanted to come to help me build a house, it had mostly been a joke. To have five of them actually make time to come meant a lot.