by Marti Shane
“I didn’t realize you were unhappy.”
“Because I haven’t been unhappy working out of J&J. The longer I stayed, the more I dreaded going back. I think Nick realized it before I did.”
“You’ve got a permanent office at J&J.” She didn’t want to be apart. Sure, he would have away games and she’d travel for work. That didn’t mean they had to live thousands of miles apart.
“I can work from Arlington as easily as I can work from Cross City.” She shrugged shyly, finally pushing the truth of it out. “And you did promise to make my bed.”
“I can’t believe you.” He brought her down for a kiss. His hand tangled in her hair, the other lowering her back to the couch. With his big body draping hers, he smiled against her lips. She wasn’t sure why she’d been nervous to surprise him here. Looking back, he was always three steps ahead. She was happy to be all caught up.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jake was about to explode with happy, but he kept a lid on it and took his chair. Kay placed the second tray of lasagna down, slapping at Travis’s hand when he tried to slide it in place of his plate. Sam carried in the bread basket and a glass of wine, taking the chair next to Jake. Her hand settled on his thigh, and he caught Mick’s grin as she settled in next to Red. Of course, Sam told her first and he didn’t mind.
“How’d it ride?” Jax asked Sam. She’d rode her Ducati back from Atlanta and left Jake to ride in with Nick. She gave his thigh a squeeze, having rode him as soon as he got home.
“Lie, Sam,” Red said. “Or it’ll end up in my lake.”
Jake’s new favorite party of ten laughed and cut up over his send-off meal. His mom moved the tradition to the lake, and they sat in the early spring air in the screen room sharing his favorite meal. Guests of the B&B chattered quietly at the tables surrounding them, but their table was full of life. Sam didn’t have a shy bone in her body in this group, and that meant the world to him.
“Since we’re all together...” He stood, voice quieting the crowd. He looked over the other tables to see he had the attention of the room. “Hi, I’m Jake.” He waived, hearing his table laugh.
Sam patted his ass, her forehead dropping to her hand. They’d planned on telling everyone tonight but hadn’t discussed how. He pulled the little velvet box from his pocket, and his mom and Kay gasped. Sam stood next to him, her expression one he knew well. She was pleasantly annoyed, her arm snaking his waist as she gave a small wave to the crowd.
“Hi, I’m Sam.” she spoke up with a smile. “And I said yes in New York.” She eyed the blue box, excitement gleaming as she clapped her hands. “Is that my prize?” The crowd laughed and cheered as he plucked the forever rock from its case. Her eyes were glued to the stone, the setting elegant but proud sliding into place. She was his, forever. “Jake,” she said in awe, tearing her gaze reluctantly from the ring to meet his. “It’s perfect.”
“And I make the bed,” he shrugged, thrilled with her delight. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before she was torn away in hugs and gushes over the ring.
“That was perfect.” Nick shook his hand. Sam wasn’t one for grand gestures and this had worked itself out. “She’s happy,” he said, glancing at his baby sister and clamping tightly on Jake’s hand. “Keep it that way,” he warned, tone catching an edge that almost chilled. Ambers flared in his intense stare, fading as quick as they fired. His grip let up, blood rushing back through Jake’s hand. Red clapped Nick’s shoulder, his dark warning instantly erased from his face. Nick nodded once, stepping back for Red to take his turn.
It seemed like hours before they all settled back down, except Sam. He looked over his shoulder to find her carrying in a white box.
“I brought dessert.” She placed it in front Jake, the lid popping off to reveal a dozen red velvet cakes. “You only get two.” She pointed her finger in his face.
“How did you…?” he wondered aloud.
“Really?” She shot him an arrogant look, setting one of the cakes on a fresh plate.
“No way,” Mick exclaimed, leaning over the box. “Are these Délice Saveur?”
“He catered The Royal last night,” Sam informed her. Jake thought back to the kitchen, the guy topping the cakes and telling him good show. He felt a little foolish, not recognizing the celebrity chef.
“I met him in the kitchen,” he said to no one in particular. “He told me good show.”
“I might’ve thrown your name around.” Sam grinned, pulling a small card from the box. “Seems he’s a fan.” The card congratulated them on their engagement, followed with Go Rangers underneath. “He lives in Austin,” she explained.
“Really?” Jake mimicked her previous arrogance.
“You guys are perfect for each other,” Travis groaned, taking two of the cakes from the box. He plated one for Jax, and stuck the other straight into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing the gravel lot.
“Someone here?” Red asked, pushing from his chair and gently coaxing Kay to stay in hers. “I’ve got it. We’re not expecting anyone.” He left through the kitchen, the table picking back up with idle chatter. A few minutes later, he reappeared. His expression was tight as he leaned to Sam’s ear. “There’s a detective here to see you,” he said in a low voice. “He’s in the front office. I’ll grab Nick.”
Jake stood, questions rapid firing in his brain. He ignored the what’s going on shooting around the table and didn’t wait for an invitation to go with her. She glanced at Nick, who led the way. Jake wondered if they’d asked to speak to Nick, too, or if this was him being overprotective of Sam. A slender man in worn dress clothes stood browsing the photographs of the office wall. He smelled of stale cigarettes and minty gum.
“Ms. Martin,” he greeted Sam without a smile. “I’m Detective Riley from Atlanta P.D.” His jacket hung open, but he tugged to one side to show the badge clipped to his belt. “Do you want to sit down?”
“I’ll stand,” she said, just barely enough in the door for Jake and Nick to slip by.
“What’s this about?” Nick demanded. Det. Riley narrowed his eyes on him.
“And you are?” Nick paused for a quick second, before plowing forward with his impatience.
“Her nephew.” The detective glanced between them, the age difference throwing him off. He quickly recovered, sliding his hands in his slacks pockets and rocking on his heels.
“When’s the last time you saw you father?” he asked Nick with a tilt of head.
“I wouldn’t call him that,” he answered tightly. “Why?”
“What about you, Ms. Martin?” the Detective asked, his curious gaze assessing Sam. Her spine was rigid under Jake’s hand, her complexion pale. “When’s the last time you saw Cyrus?” Jake felt the quiver working through her, but she lifted her chin.
“I was six.” Her voice was hoarse.
“And your sister?” the detective persisted.
“Same,” she answered, then retracted. “I mean, she came to our mom’s funeral.”
Jake struggled to keep up, never thinking the legality of Sam being adopted through. Legally, Gram was her mother, making Margaret her sister. Oddly, that made Nick her step-nephew. They didn’t hide being siblings that he’d seen, but the detective seemed none the wiser.
“Ms. Martin, I’m sorry to inform you…” The detective moved his hands from his pockets, dangling them nervously at his sides. “Your sister’s dead.”
Jake reflexively wrapped his arm around Sam, who stood unaffected by the news. Her body remained rigid and still, other than a few blinks to process. He glanced to Nick who wore a face of stone.
“How did this happen?” Nick asked.
“Heart attack,” the detective explained, not much sympathy in his voice. “Her husband’s MIA and you’re the next of kin.”
“What do you want from me?” Sam asked.
“I’m getting the impression you weren’t close, but I really need for you to take a ride to Tifton with me.”
&nbs
p; “Tifton?”
“She was in a rehab there.”
“I’ll call her estate manager,” Nick said, phone in hand. “They’ll handle everything.”
“When?” Sam asked. Det. Riley looked instantly relieved.
“It’s a two-hour drive from here.”
“We can follow you.” She looked to Jake, eyes haunted with her past. He agreed silently with a nod.
“Sam,” Nick argued. “You don’t have to go.”
“I get that maybe you guys weren’t close,” the detective argued back. “You need to go.”
Less than ten minutes later, Jake was following the unmarked vehicle down Promise Pike. Sam had barely said anything, and he reached for her hand. He wasn’t sure why they were making the trip. Was she identifying the body like you see on TV? She had been in a rehab center, aren’t they sure who she is? And where was Sam’s father?
“Thanks for driving me,” Sam said. “I’m not sure why I agreed to go.” He was in unchartered territory. When Sloane passed, he knew exactly what to do and how to console.
“Closure?” he suggested, biting his tongue. Margaret was her mother, an estranged sister at the least. Sam was doing what was decent, despite their past.
Sam chose to obsess with the scene outside her window for the next hundred miles while Jake focused on the bumper of the Charger leading the way. His thumb brushed the ring he’d finally put on her hand, remembering they were happy and celebrating a few hours ago. They were still happy, he convinced himself. They’d worked through worse.
They pulled in to the visitor’s lot, Sam collecting her purse as he put the truck in the park.
“I’m here for Gram,” she said decidedly. “She never gave up on Maggie, and it was a wedge between us.” Jake turned in his seat, Sam’s intelligent eyes laser focused, as if implanting the information straight to his brain. She’d said Maggie, not Margaret, and he knew something had changed. “I don’t feel anything.” Her hand covered her chest, as if checking to make sure. “This is Gram’s daughter. She loved her unconditionally, and I need to do what’s right by her.”
“We will.” He cupped her cheek, pressing his lips to her forehead. She leaned into him, lids lowering as she let out an exhausted sigh. “You’re a good person, Sam,” he reassured her, knowing she was wrestling with guilt in her head.
“No,” she replied, eyes still closed. “If Gram were alive, I wouldn’t be here.” She leaned back, meeting his gaze once more. “I hurt her over and over again, refusing to forgive Maggie for what she did. This would’ve crushed her, and I would’ve left her to deal with it alone.”
“Margaret didn’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, weaving their fingers together.
“Tell that to Gram.”
“Sam, you sat with Sloane day and night for months. She knew exactly how much you loved her. You being here right now is proof of the same. You’re here for Sloane, to do what she’d want done.”
“Sounds so cold.”
“Leaving our engagement party and driving over a hundred miles isn’t cold. You’re justified in your feelings, or lack of, for Margaret. Don’t let this mind fuck you. Her being dead doesn’t make her a better person. You being here after how she treated you and Sloane…” He blew out his breath, his distaste for the woman spiking his nerves.
“Agreed.” Sam raised an eyebrow with a sarcastic smile.
He’d gotten through to her at least. He pushed opened his door, spring rain threatening in the damp air. He held Sam close as they climbed the stairs to the ancient brick building with mirrored glass. Detective Riley waited on the stairs, opening the door and ushering them in.
Jake realized how much he hated the smell of hospitals. The noises were even worse than the smell. Phones rang at the half-circle reception desk, and beeps and bells were persistent and out of sync. The sterile walls and floors amplified the sounds, ensuring you heard each one twice. How could anyone rest here, he thought. The detective led them to a hall lined with offices, taking him off guard. Guess they wouldn’t be visiting her room.
“Hi, Anna.” He greeted a woman behind a cheap wooden desk from the open office door. She was getting to her feet when Jake followed Sam in, pushing her diet coke can to the side. “This is Sloane Martin,” Detective Riley explained.
“Sam,” Sam corrected.
“I’m Anna Thompson.” The woman extended her hand, her demeanor as warm as her wavy chocolate hair and eyes. “I’m a grief counselor,” she explained in the most soothing voice Jake had ever heard. “Please have a seat.”
“Jake.” He introduced himself, the quiet in between the introductions odd considering how noisy the place was. He took a seat next to Sam on the small sofa with tissues on the tables on either side.
“I’ll be outside.” Detective Riley excused himself, closing them in on his way out. Anna didn’t waste any time giving her condolences. Sam thanked her and shifted uncomfortably as Anna took a seat in the armed chair facing them. The lack of pencil and pad put Jake at ease, the scene more like a conversation than counseling that way. He knew Sam wouldn’t tolerate any touchy feely counseling and would politely have Anna cut to the chase.
“Your sister left instructions in the event she didn’t survive.”
“Detective Riley said she had a heart attack?”
“Maggie’s been with us for about five months.” Anna leaned forward, a palm turned up in invitation to Sam. She placed her palm in Anna’s, to Jake’s surprise. Anna placed her other hand over Sam’s, eyes intense but warm. “She was in a car accident and barely survived. Her husband fled the scene.”
“When the detective said rehab…” Sam trailed off.
“She went through detox on top of dealing with her injuries,” Anna explained. “Sam.” Anna’s voice found a tone, where you knew the news would be a blow. “Maggie created a miracle when she left this world. She died giving birth to a beautiful baby boy.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam’s heart pounded in her chest, her throat closed off to the point she couldn’t breathe. She was going to be the heart attack victim. Anna’s voice was in her ear, but she struggled to make out the words. Margaret gave birth. Jake and Anna exchanged words, and then his hand pursed her lips, his blue eyes trained on hers as he encouraged her to breathe. She did, her chest easing just enough to inflate with the stale air.
“Good.” Jake’s hold softened around her mouth, his eyes not leaving hers. She waited for the panic to seize her, the stench of cigarettes to crowd her memory and invade her nose. She smelled Jake’s aftershave instead, her brain staying in the present and her pulse beginning to slow, her hearing unmuffled as she blinked in surprise. She had control, the past staying in the past.
“Sorry,” she offered Anna, who seemed unfazed with her mini-episode.
“This is a lot to take in.” She grounded herself, wrapping a hand firmly around Jake’s thigh. She had a little brother, or legally a nephew. “Maggie explained that you weren’t close. She never could get on top of her addiction and that costs her a lot.”
“She was sick.” Sam offered Gram’s excuse reflexively, not sure why. Maggie was bipolar, so what? So was van Gough, but at least he cut off his own ear, not anyone else’s.
“That’s no excuse for hurting the ones you love,” Anna replied. “If we excuse them, they’re allowed to excuse themselves.” Her dark eyes were an open book, dedicated to helping people heal. Had she seen enough situations like Sam’s to know she didn’t excuse Margaret, or did she know more than she was letting on? “We discussed putting the baby up for adoption.”
“Is that why I’m here?” Sam asked, her chest in a tight squeeze. “You need me to sign something?”
“Decisions don’t need to happen today. He’s in good hands right now. He was born early, so his lungs are a little weak. We hope to step him down from NICU this week.”
“NICU?” Jake asked.
“Intensive care for start of life,” Anna explained. “He’s a fight
er.”
“Can we see him?” He asked.
“No,” Sam blurted. “That’s okay.” The silence that followed shamed her. Dammit. Fuck Margaret. How was she pregnant after all these years? How could she leave this responsibility behind?
“You’re on the list if you change your mind.” Anna was again unfazed. “He’s on the third floor.”
“Um, where did they take Margaret? I need to make arrangements,” Sam diverted, an attempt to show some level of decency to the situation.
“She’ll be moved to Atlanta. Her estate manager said he had instructions your mother left behind.” Tears pooled in Sam’s eyes, Gram assuming she’d let her down. Anna gently placed her hand over Sam’s. “This is in no way fair to you,” she delivered in absolute sincerity. “Maggie came to terms with her inability to make good choices, so she trusted this one to you.”
Sam wanted to go off, throw a temper tantrum and let off steam. Incapable of giving away a child to complete strangers, and she refused to let the alternative become a conscious thought. How fucking irresponsible could Margaret be? And Cyrus? Where the fuck was he? Oh God, the thought pierced through her gut. What if Cyrus knew he had a son? Could he take him?
Jake stood from the couch, the frumpy cushion reforming without his weight.
“Let’s go see him.” He held out a hand.
“It’s not a puppy, Jake.” She glared up at him, not wanting to move. If she just stayed put, no one would judge her next move.
“He’s your nephew,” Anna said, and then shot a warning glance towards Jake. “Don’t push her.”
“He’s your brother,” Jake corrected Anna by addressing Sam. He pulled her hand, her weight heavy on shaky legs. Jake supported her, arms wrapping her tight. “You’ll catch up,” he said softly but sternly in her hair.
Sam’s body had gone numb with her brain, despite climbing three flights of stairs. The NICU was on heavy lock down, a nurse scowling at them over the reception desk.
