There was a knock at Sam’s door and she jumped up to answer it.
It was her father, and she knew before he even said the words.
She knew Henry was gone . . . and now, so was a piece of the boy she loved.
28
Sam
The next few days were awful. Sam had only seen Devon once and when she tried to hug him, he shook his head and held up a hand that stopped her in her tracks. Devon wouldn’t even look at her. He stared at his feet holding his temples like his forehead might unhinge if he didn’t. He took a shuddering breath and said, “Eggsy . . . can you . . .”
“Of course,” she said sparing Devon from having to ask her to care for the dog.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and walked away.
He looked so raw and broken. Sam felt her heart crumbling as she watched him walk away, leaving her with a queasy emptiness in her stomach.
Devon wasn’t staying in his room. She didn’t know where he was staying. Maybe he wasn’t staying anywhere. Maybe he was just wandering the halls or the grounds. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping or eating. Maybe he would lose twenty pounds like her father had after her mother passed. But wherever Devon was, whatever he was doing, Sam never saw him. She checked his room repeatedly. She even set alarms to check after midnight, but he wasn’t there. He had to sleep somewhere . . .
But then, Sam remembered not sleeping. After her mother passed away Sam used to hide in her office, like she thought maybe her mother might come back. But that was because Sam was eight. Where would she hide if she’d lost her mother now? If only she could figure it out maybe she could find Devon.
Sam asked her father about Devon constantly. But he gave her vague answers like, dealing with family matters, or making arrangements. The next time she tried to talk to her father, he sat down and actually looked at her. That worried Sam more than anything.
“Sam, sweetheart. I know this has been hard on you too. Thank you for putting on a brave face all this time. I’ve spoken to Cara, and we agree it’s best for everyone if you and I move to our own place.”
“She’s kicking us out?” Sam cried incredulously.
“No, honey. I suggested it. And Cara agreed. Their family needs some time to adjust. And that will be easier if we’re not here.”
“But, what about Devon? What did he say?”
“It’s not up to Devon, honey.”
“But I haven’t even seen him.”
“I know, honey. You’ll see him at school.”
“But I need to make sure he’s okay. When Mom died . . .” Sam’s voice cracked. “I just have to make sure he’s okay, Dad.”
“Okay, honey. After you pack your things you can go say goodbye.”
“What? When are we leaving?”
“Now, honey.”
Waking up in a house without Devon was a nightmare.
He wasn’t across the hall. He wasn’t even on the same property. And Sam hadn’t gotten to say goodbye—not really.
The day they left, Cara had told her that Devon was in Henry’s office, and when Sam knocked on the door he wouldn’t open it. She could hear him inside, but no matter how much she begged he wouldn’t let her in.
“But I’m leaving, Devon. My dad says we have to leave now. And, I just . . . I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry. That’s stupid . . . I know you’re not okay. But I’m here for you, Devon. Okay? I’m always going to be here for you.”
She waited, but still he said nothing.
“Please just say okay, so I know you heard me.”
“Okay, Sam.”
Those were the last words he’d spoken to her and she wanted to erase them. She wanted to go back to him telling her he loved her and that her smile looked like sunshine. She wanted to go back to kissing him. She wanted to kiss all his pain away. She wanted so much more than she ever knew she could want from Devon, but it didn’t matter.
Most days, life doesn’t care what broken hearts want—Sam knew that better than most people.
“I’m telling you, Meg, something’s wrong. He hasn’t even been at school. I’m really worried,” Sam said into her cell phone.
“What about the funeral?” Megan asked. “You’ll see him there, right?”
“No. They already had it and we weren’t invited.”
“What?” Megan squeaked.
“Family only.”
“But your dad’s always saying you guys are practically family.”
“I know. But Cara’s running things now. That’s why I’m so worried. What if she’s sent him away or something?”
“Sam, I know he called her his step-monster, but it’s not like she’d lock him in some tower.”
Sam sighed. “I know, but I’m going crazy. I text him and call him and he never answers. I know how bad he’s hurting. I just want to help.”
“Sam, you know better than anyone how hard this is. And sometimes you just need to let people grieve the best way they know how. Devon knows you’re there for him.”
“I guess,” she said sulking.
“Just keep reminding him. But you can’t force him to talk to you about this if he’s not ready.”
“You’re right. But my heart is breaking for him. And we . . . ” Sam hadn’t told Megan that she had sex with Devon. It didn’t seem appropriate to talk about so soon after Henry passing. And now, it’d been so long since it happened that Sam felt weird bringing it up. And she was beginning to wonder if Devon regretted it. If she could only talk to him!
“We what?” Megan asked.
Sam sighed. “Nothing. I just really wish I could talk to him.”
“I’m sure you will soon. Now go kick butt today.”
“Thanks,” Sam replied. But soccer was the last thing on her mind. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Hang in there,” Megan said and disconnected.
Sam tucked her phone in her duffle bag and changed for her soccer match. It was the last one of their undefeated season and everyone turned up to cheer the Lady Eddi’s on—everyone except Devon.
Sam looked for him anyway. It was habit now to scan the front row of the bleachers for Devon and Eggsy. But they were never there.
It had been three weeks since Henry James passed away and Devon still hadn’t returned to school. Apparently, Zander was bringing Devon his assignments. Sam badgered Zander for information all the time, but it was always the same.
“Only family right now, Sam.”
“He’s not ready for visitors, Sam.”
“I’ll tell him you asked about him, Sam.”
Sam even found herself missing stupid, old Thorton. At least if the James’s butler was still driving her to school she could ask him how Devon was. But now that Sam and her father had moved to a little cottage close to school, Sam could walk to Eddington. If the weather was foul her father offered to drive her. But she always walked anyway. She liked gazing out at the valley, remembering what it’d been like hiking it with Devon. Sometimes their camping trip felt like a dream. One perfect day—not even a day really. More like seventeen hours.
Maybe that’s all Sam was allowed. Seventeen hours of happiness—one to make up for each miserable year of her life. Sam instantly felt bad thinking that and tried to take her thoughts back. Her life wasn’t miserable. Not all of it. There had been good times. All the time before her mom died. And even a few moments after. Plus, she still had her father. Poor Devon had no one. Sam felt her heart constrict and she thought she might be ill. She really didn’t want to play soccer right now. But Coach was blowing the whistle and telling them to start warming up.
Sam jogged up and down the field, imagining she was running all the way to Devon’s house. Imagining she wouldn’t stop until she was back in his arms.
That’s how Sam made it through the game—imagining she was with Devon. She played like crap, but she survived. She was sitting on the sideline pulling off her cleats while the rest of the team celebra
ted. She felt someone sit down next to her and for half a breath she thought it was Devon.
“Hey, Boston,” Zander greeted. “Good game.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, her attention already racing ahead to questions about Devon.
“Before you ask, he’s still not ready for visitors,” Zander said grimly. “But he did ask me to tell you something.”
Sam perked up. “He did?”
Zander couldn’t even meet her gaze. “Yeah, but you’re not going to like it.”
“What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
Zander sighed. “Nothing’s wrong, Sam. But, he . . . he wanted me to tell you that he can’t go to the Grad Ball with you.”
“Oh.” Sam’s face fell. Tears started falling in a steady stream as she stared at her socks. She didn’t even care that she was crying in front of Zander. She didn’t even care about the stupid Grad Ball. She just wanted to see Devon. Nothing would be right until she did.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Zander said stiffly.
“That’s okay,” she sniffled. “I was just worried you were going to say something was wrong with him. He hasn’t been returning any of my texts and . . . I just worry about him going through this alone.”
Zander awkwardly put his hand on her back. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know you care about him. This isn’t your fault. He’s just not ready to face everyone, ya know?”
“I get it,” she said, even though her mind was screaming, but I’m not everyone! I’m Sam! The girl he loves! The girl he had sex with!
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have a date to the Grad Ball either.”
“What happened to Sophie?”
Zander snorted. “Apparently, Henry’s death has inconvenienced her. She said I was spending too much time with my sister. Can you believe that?”
“Yes, she’s a bitch.”
Zander laughed. “She really is.”
“What do guys see in her?”
He shrugged. “Nice tits, great ass.”
Sam rolled her eyes.
“I don’t know, Sam. We’re guys. It doesn’t take much.”
Sam’s heart thudded to a sub-level she didn’t even know existed. Was that what had happened with her and Devon? Was she just easily accessible tits and ass?
“I know you probably don’t feel like it right now, but I’m throwing it out there anyway. If you want to, you could go to the Grad Ball with me.”
Sam just blinked at Zander, so he kept talking.
“Me and some of the blokes from the team are going for a bit. Ya know, just for the free booze. Then were gonna skip off to the Garage if ya wanna come with?”
“The Garage?” Sam asked.
“It’s a pub in Dublin. Good for blowing off steam.”
“Oh. Thanks, but I wouldn’t be good company. I’ll probably just stay home.”
Zander shrugged and stood up. “Well, if ya change your mind . . .”
Sophie
Sophie and Tess were standing on the football pitch waiting for Molly while the rest of the school congratulated the Lady Eddi’s on their final victory. But Sophie wasn’t really focused on their win. She was busy playing her own game as she watched the conversation happening between Samantha and Zander.
Tess interrupted Sophie’s plotting with another annoying question. “Did you really break up with Zander?”
“Yes,” Sophie replied without taking her eyes off of Samantha.
“Why? He’s so hott.”
“Because, I’ve realized there’s someone better for me.”
“Who?” Molly asked, joining them.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Sophie huffed.
She wasn’t ready to tell them she had Devon back in her sights. Or that he’d never really left them. Sophie always made sure she could back up her claims. That’s how she stayed on top at Eddington. She wouldn’t tell anyone about Devon until they were officially back together. And now that he was rumored to inherit his father’s company, Devon would be an even bigger catch.
“So if you broke up with Zander, who are you going to the Grad Ball with?” Molly asked.
“Don’t worry about me,” Sophie said with a knowing smile. If everything went according to plan, she’d have the most unforgettable Grad night of them all.
29
Devon
Devon sat in the back of his father’s 1934 Bentley Lagonda tipping back his flask. Empty. Again. Yesterday he’d found solace in the Aston Martin. The day before, the Bugatti. Each day he sat in a different car, with a different bottle of whiskey and tried to hold on to the memories he’d shared with his father in each of the cars. They all belonged to Cara now. But she couldn’t keep Devon from sitting in them. Besides, the garage had become his favorite hiding place.
No one ever went out to the garage. And its eight bays of windows gave Devon the perfect vantage point to see people coming and going from the house—not that Devon wanted to interact with any of them. The only person he wanted to see, he couldn’t. He couldn’t face Sam. Not when he had all this pain in his heart. It was just as well that she’d moved out. She hadn’t given up though. Sam still called and texted every day since his father died. Every message said the same thing. “I’m still here.”
She hadn’t given up on him. And he couldn’t make up his mind if he wanted her to.
Selfishly he wanted to keep Sam forever. But at the same time, Devon loved her too much to do that to her. He was a mess—a giant, broken, disgusting mess. And Sam deserved so much better than that. She deserved the Devon from before. The Devon from the camping trip. The Devon she’d given herself to. Maybe she even deserved someone better than him. But at least that version of himself had been whole and good. This new, broken version only spewed hate and regret and anger.
Devon had never been so mad in his life. Everything made him angry. One second he’d be so furious that he’d trash his room, then the next he’d be in tears for destroying something from his father.
Each day he awoke to a new nightmare. One morning, he’d seen his father in his reflection and wept until he vomited. The next day, he punched the mirror until it shattered and his knuckles were bloody. He was like Jekyll and Hyde. He didn’t trust himself and he wouldn’t allow that monstrous version of himself anywhere near Sam.
Plus, when he thought about Sam, he thought about their night together. And that made him think about his father, and how Devon should have been by his side instead of off selfishly chasing his desires. He didn’t regret his night with Sam, but he couldn’t separate it either. Everything was a furious, confusing mess and so far, drinking was the only thing that helped dull the pain. Devon was lost and broken, but he still knew enough to keep Sam safe. And he wasn’t safe. He wanted Sam to be happy. She deserved that. But Devon would never be able to bring her happiness now.
From his perch on the Bentley, Devon saw Zander pull up in his BMW. Zander had moved into the house after the funeral. At least the bastard had the decency to wait until his father was in the ground, Devon thought viciously as he watched Zander saunter into the house. His house. His father’s house!
Sometimes at night, Devon heard Cara and Zander laughing. Laughing for fuck’s sake! What in the hell was there to laugh about? If Cara had ever loved his father, she wouldn’t be laughing. She would never laugh again. She would be just as destroyed as Devon. But no, she was laughing it up with Zander and planning all the ways they would redecorate his house. Like the first thought in her stupid little head was how fast could she permanently erase Henry from existence?
Devon wished they were dead—Zander and Cara. Why did his father have to die? It wasn’t fair! Henry wouldn’t do something like this to Cara if she had died. He’d probably have erected a statue in her honor. But life wasn’t fair. And Devon was stuck with Cara and no one left who gave a shite about him.
His phone pinged and Devon stared down at a text message.
SAM: I’m still here.
His finger hovered over
the reply button. Christ, he missed her.
Devon slid the phone back in his pocket. He couldn’t talk to Sam—perfect, beautiful, Sam. He would just ruin her. And if he did that, he would have nothing left to live for. He was barely hanging on as it was. If he hurt Sam, it would kill him, and he’d probably end up doing the world a favor and killing himself.
I could easily do it, he thought looking around at all the cars in the garage. The room was sealed up tight. It would be easy. Probably only take a matter of minutes . . .
Devon hopped out of the car and quickly exited the garage before he got any other stupid ideas. He just needed another drink. Just something so he could sleep and not think for a while.
Devon ran into Zander in the hall.
“Jesus! You look like shite, mate,” Zander said. He was blocking Devon’s path to his room.
“Fuck off,” Devon growled.
“I talked to her today,” Zander said, not backing down. “She still asks about you.” He snorted. “Lord knows why?”
“Did you tell her?” Devon asked.
Zander shook his head and Devon felt his rage bubbling up. But then Zander spoke. “Yeah. I told her.”
“Good,” Devon said pushing past Zander to get to his door.
“She cried, mate. She fucking cried.”
Devon stopped. But he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Something inside of him was tearing and he couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t ask me to clean up any more of your shite. From now on, if you have something to say to Sam, you say it yourself. It’s been three weeks, mate. It’s time to start picking up the pieces, or someone else will.”
The Almost Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Series Book 2) Page 17
