Young Revelations (Young Series)

by Kimble, W. R.

  “Hello, Samantha,” I say hoarsely, the words barely making it out of my mouth before my jaw tenses and I have to bite back my emotion.

  “Hi,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “When did you get back?”

  “Couple hours ago.”

  She nods, her brow furrowing. “How’d it go?”

  I sigh. Is this really what we’re going to discuss right now? “I’ve been cleared of all charges,” I say evenly. “They found me completely not at fault, despite my suspicions that something was wrong. Within the next few months, the plane crash will be nothing more than a very bad memory.”

  Relief is palpable on her face and I’m slightly relieved she still cares enough to be relieved. “Good,” she says.

  Nodding, I take a couple more steps into the room. “Nobody knew I was coming home,” I tell her. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, I’m certainly surprised,” she says wryly.

  I snort a humorless laugh. “Not as surprised as I am,” I shoot back. She flinches. Part of me is satisfied by that reaction. “I’ve spent the last couple hours just wandering around town, trying to wrap my head around what I saw when I came in here and trying to figure out what I should do about it. I still haven’t decided.” I stop the end of her bed, wrapping my fingers around the railing at her feet. “I wanted to tear that guy apart, Samantha. Not for being in here with you or even falling asleep beside you. I wanted to tear him apart because I’ve been away from you for so long and the entire time I was gone, I would have given anything to be able to see you grow with our child. I wanted to tear him apart because he looked so at home beside you, like he belongs with you.” Faintly, I realize she’s crying and that hurts almost as much as what I saw earlier; I don’t stop. “But while I was walking, the only decision I was able to make is that I honestly don’t give a shit who he is or why he was here. There is only one thing I need to know from you.” She’s watching me expectantly, nervously, and I take a few moments to steel up my own nerves, terrified of what I’m about to ask her and what her answer might be. I try to keep my voice from cracking when I speak next, but I know I fail. “Samantha, are you still in love with me?”

  Her eyes widen and her jaw falls open slightly as she processes what I’ve asked her. Then her expression hardens and my breath stalls briefly. “That question goes both ways, Matt,” she responds coldly. “Because I’ve been wondering the same thing about you for much longer than a couple hours. You may not care who he is, but I know damn well who she was, and I saw a hell of a lot more than some handholding.”

  My broken heart briefly takes a backseat to confusion. I don’t need to ask to what she’s referring, but the video shouldn’t even come to play if she’s spoken to Claire and Claire told her everything. Realization sets in. “Shit,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Claire never talked to you.”

  “Talked to me about what?” she asks in exasperation. “You said in your letter you hope she’s told me the truth. I have no idea what that means. I haven’t seen Claire in days; the kids have been sick and aside from spending her free time with them, she hasn’t wanted to risk bringing the stomach flu to me while I’m here. She did mention she wanted to talk to me about something, but didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

  Put like that, I’m almost rethinking my decision to strangle my sister. We probably could have saved ourselves a lot of heartache. “Sam, the video is fake,” I say calmly. “Yes, it was Natalie and me, but that happened years ago. Someone went through all the trouble to edit a video to make it seem recent, but they missed changing some of the details. I did a remodel of my office a couple years ago, after Natalie and I broke up, and I replaced most of the furniture. Including that couch. I never cheated on you.”

  Neither of us seems to know what else to say right now. Or rather, I know what I want to say to her, but I need her to at least acknowledge my words before I do anything. The last thing I want right now is for her to push me even further away. The longer the minutes drag on without her speaking or her expression changing, the more I wonder if this is going to be it for us. She could so easily say she doesn’t believe me. Or that it doesn’t matter that the video was faked, because the seed of doubt has had so long to grow. Hell, she hasn’t even given me an answer on whether she’s still in love with me. For all I know, the answer is no and she’ll follow that up by saying she’s in love with the asshole who’d been with her this morning.

  I want to explain more, tell her that I’ve talked to Danny and Claire, and that they were supposed to talk to her, but obviously circumstances haven’t allowed that. I’m about ten seconds from dropping to my knees and begging her to believe me when she finally takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I want to believe you,” she whispers unevenly. “More than anything, Matthew, I want to believe you would never do that to me—”

  Then for the love of God, believe it! I want to shout this at her, but I bite my tongue.

  “And I don’t want to keep beating a dead horse, but seeing you with Natalie at that party, not to mention the things she said to me when she showed up here…” She shakes her head uncertainly. “I don’t know what to think right now, Matt. I really don’t.”

  We’ll be addressing Natalie’s visit shortly, but right now that is the last thing to deal with. “Then you can tell me whether or not you still love me, since you so neatly sidestepped the question before. If you don’t love me and don’t see any sort of future with me, then I will walk away from you right now, but I need to know the truth.”

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head to herself so slightly I nearly miss it. “Matthew, that is by far the stupidest question you have ever asked me,” she says quietly. “Of course I love you. Would it be easier if I didn’t? Probably. Is it something I can change? Not a chance. And I don’t want that to change.”

  If I wasn’t gripping the bed rail as tightly as I am, there is no doubt in my mind that the relief I feel would knock me off my feet. “I don’t want that to change either,” I whisper. “And in case there is any doubt in your mind, I love you too.”

  Her head falls back onto the pillow momentarily and I see a few tears fall from her eyes. I force my feet to move so that I’m standing beside her bed and sit down in the same chair previously occupied by the mystery man. “So now that we’ve got that settled,” I begin, “are you leaving me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  Her question comes so quickly after mine that I know she’s been thinking about it. “No,” I respond. “I never want you to leave.”

  She only nods in response. “Then I’m not going anywhere.”

  I feel a smile grow on my face and I try to stop it, knowing we’re only partway through everything we need to discuss. “I’m glad to hear it,” I murmur. She rolls onto her side, curling up with one hand under her head and the other resting on the bed. Locking my gaze with hers and searching for any sign she doesn’t want this, I reach out to touch her hand. I’ve never been so relieved to feel that little jolt of electricity that passes between us whenever we touch. It’s giving me hope that we can fix this. Though I might be pressing my luck, I can’t resist the urge to lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingers. I don’t miss the little gasp she emits at the contact. “How are you feeling?”

  She looks around us briefly as though she’s forgotten we’re in a hospital room. “Better,” she says quietly. “I should be released tomorrow if all my tests come back clear today.”

  “That’s some of the best news I’ve gotten in weeks,” I tell her honestly, my free hand reaching out to rest against her belly. “And our daughter?”

  She smiles for the first time since I entered the room and it’s the most incredible sight in the world. “She’s perfect,” she tells me. “They’re putting me on medication for the high blood pressure, but of course the biggest thing is keeping down my stress level.” The pointed look she gives me makes me grin sadly.

  “Speaking of stress,” I say reluctantly, “what did N
atalie say to you?”

  What little happiness she might have been feeling is gone with the blink of an eye and I know she doesn’t want to discuss this. “Matt, I’d rather not,” she begins.

  “I need to know what happened,” I urge her gently. “I’m going to take care of all of this, but I need to know what she said.”

  Resignedly, she nods. “She basically told me that the two of you have had a relationship this whole time and that whenever you were at work and on the phone with me, she was with you,” she says tonelessly. “And of course the only reason we’re getting married is because of your sense of duty to the baby.”

  I’m trying so hard not to squeeze her hand too much, but I am beyond furious. I honestly do not understand what could have possessed Natalie to behave like this. Jealousy? Some sense of protectiveness because Samantha hurt me by leaving me once before? But why would she lie like this or harass Samantha while Samantha is in the hospital of all places?

  “I’m so sorry,” I say hoarsely to Samantha. “None of that is true. I’ve barely seen her this year—that day you saw her coming out of my office was the first time in months. And I understand why it upset you; I’d be pissed too. I’m marrying you because I can’t stand the thought of living without you. It’s nothing to do with any sense of duty. It’s because I love you more than anything in my life and I want to spend the rest of my life beside you. Samantha, I promise you, I will get to the bottom of all of this and there will be repercussions for those involved. I will not let anybody hurt you and that includes me. As far as I’m concerned, there is no option of you and me splitting up. Ever. I told you in my letter that I know what it is to live without you and that is not something I ever want to experience again. I took you for granted back then and I didn’t even realize it until you were gone, when it was too late to actually do anything about it. And I’m sorry for that too. I want us to go back to being so in love that we can’t see straight. I want us to see our children grow up happy and healthy. Together.”

  She nods faintly. “I want that too,” she whispers, taking a deep breath. “You told me in your letter that you don’t think we actually know each other anymore. Is that really how you feel?”

  “Yes,” I say promptly. “We’re treating each other like we’re the exact same people we were five years ago, and those people don’t exist anymore. We’re both stronger, we’re both more cynical, we’re both more stubborn than we ever were back then.”

  “How do we fix that?”

  Sighing heavily, I shrug. “We take it one day at a time. We communicate openly instead of keeping everything locked up until we explode. We have to learn to trust each other again.”

  “I agree,” she says. “And in the spirit of opening up and communicating, we need to discuss what you saw this morning.”

  I feel all the fight leaving my body and don’t even realize I’ve released her hand until the expression of hurt passes through her eyes. “I told you, I don’t care as long as you’re still mine and still in love with me.”

  “You might not care, but I need to explain,” she says plainly. “If you want me to trust you, I need to know you trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” I insist. “With everything, Samantha.”

  “Is that how you felt when you walked in the room this morning? That you trusted me implicitly even seeing what you saw?”

  I hesitate. No, that was not how I felt. And that made me feel like an asshole. I’ve always trusted Samantha; she’s never given me reason to do otherwise. But I can’t shake what I saw and if I’m being honest with myself, I do want to know what happened. “Okay,” I say. “Tell me.”

  She watches me for a few minutes as she tries to decide on her words. “He’s a friend,” she says simply. “Nothing more. I only met him this week. He was a listening ear when I needed one most and if it wasn’t for him, the night Natalie was here could have been so much worse for me and the baby.”

  “So I’m supposed to be grateful to this guy even though he had his paws all over my fiancée?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” she responds, her patience straining. “Admittedly, it shouldn’t have gotten to where it did, but I don’t regret spending time with him.”

  “Are you attracted to him?” I ask with the utmost reluctance.

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “Yes,” she admits quietly. “But I have no intention of doing anything about it. Not while I’m still engaged to you.” My brow furrows at her words and I wonder if I should be concerned at how she’s phrased them. “And yes, he told me he’s attracted to me, but he knows our situation and he won’t interfere with our relationship. We really are just friends, Matt.”

  I want to believe her. Having his hand resting on her belly as though it belonged there, though, didn’t seem merely friendly. “How did you meet?”

  She pulls her gaze away and I’m suddenly suspicious. If it’s such an innocent relationship, why doesn’t she want to tell me more? “He was my doctor,” she says reluctantly.

  I stare at her for several moments. “What?” I ask dully.

  Biting her lip, she looks up at me again and nods. “That’s how we met. And we just started talking. When he realized we were becoming friends, he ceased being my doctor and handed me off to another. That just happened yesterday.”

  “So this is the first time he’s slept next to you like that?”

  She shakes her head minutely. “The night Natalie was here,” she explains. “He helped kick her out and came back to check on me, even offered to call Claire for me, but I asked him not to because she’d been spending all her time here with me and I wanted her to get some rest. Considering the level of my blood pressure, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to just leave me to my thoughts, so when his shift ended, he came and sat with me. We fell asleep.”

  “Sam, don’t you think that’s a little quick for a friendship to form?”

  She looks incredulous. “Are you joking? Matt, you weren’t here. You have no idea how close I came to losing our daughter, not to mention my own life. He saved us both and then in the middle of the night when your ex-lover, friend, whore came in my room to taunt me, he saved me again and stayed with me to make sure I was okay. He’s a good man, whom I want nothing more than a friendship with. It’s certainly nowhere near you and Natalie being friends, you lying to me about your background with her, inviting her to our party and letting her fawn all over you. He saved my life and our baby’s life. I think that is a little different than your little office fuck buddy. Who, by the way, if I ever see again probably won’t live to tell about it.”

  I’m staring at her with my jaw wide open. For the first time in weeks, she isn’t holding back, not counting the letter she wrote me before I left. I’m almost afraid to argue her descriptions of Natalie for fear it will completely screw up what little progress we’ve made so far.

  And then I think about what she’s actually said. I’m blaming her for things that are, essentially, my fault. I brought Natalie into our lives, regardless of how long ago that was or that Samantha and I weren’t together at the time. I should have been able to keep my family safe from everybody, even ex-girlfriends I didn’t feel posed a real threat. It kills me that I wasn’t the one here keeping Samantha calm and our baby safe, that another man had taken it upon himself to do my job. I understand now why Claire told me to fix this before I lose Samantha altogether—not because of her health, but because she’d met somebody she could find herself being happy with. Somebody who isn’t me.

  Then I hear the next words that pass my lips: “If I wasn’t in the picture, would you be with him?”

  She looks down at her hands briefly. “Maybe,” she says to her fingers. “Matt, I’ve never clicked with another person the way I did with you. Until I met him. I never felt so comfortable so quickly with another person than I do with you. Until I met him. But I love you, Matt. I only ever thought about those possibilities because I believed you were cheating on me. And I’m not trying to
make you feel insecure or bad or anything. You want honesty. ”

  I’m suddenly rethinking that request…

  “I know more about you and Natalie than I ever wanted to know. Nothing even close to that happened with Mark. I can’t lie to you and say I didn’t think about it, especially thinking you’d been screwing Natalie behind my back. I thought about what it would be like to kiss him. But I’d never do that to you, Matt.”

  I don’t miss the silent implication that she still believes I’d do it to her.

  “That’s it?” I ask, uncertain if I want to know whatever more there is to tell.

  She nods.

  “And are you planning on remaining friends with him?”

  A shrug is her response. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think I would like to remain friends with him. And I’m not asking you to be his best friend, but I would appreciate it if you accept that I have friends that aren’t in any way associated with you.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, feeling a little hurt.

  “It means every friend I have out here is someone who has known you for years. And while I cherish those friends, it would be nice to interact with somebody you know nothing about,” she says. “Claire is my best friend and that won’t change, but at the end of the day, she’s your baby sister and I’m not going to get an unbiased opinion from her about you. Same with Bonnie. Mark has nothing to do with you and you don’t have to worry about me doing anything with him, but you can’t stop me from having friends.”